Last night as we snuggled together on the sofa, I eased my hand to a position, posterior to the Wifester, and commenced to caressing her sweet tush to which I was greated with the retort
" Stop, or I'll stab you with my fork!"Ahhh...if that's not love...In all fairness to her, I suppose a tush-rub can be distracting when one is trying to eat dinner. ( I'd choose the tush rub, personally. But that's just me.)
In other news, I'm officially a sell out...I gave in and joined the YMCA. I'm tired of being fat. And I'm tired of fighting them for a family membership for the Wifester and I. It's a battle that I so don't have the time or energy for right now. Sometimes I wish I were still twenty-one. At twenty-one I had fight in me for any and every battle that came my way, and a few contrived ones as well. I fought for the sake of fighting back then and bucked authority with the disdain of a thousand angry protesters all rolled up into one Fortune Cookie. Today I am older, wiser, and quite frankly, tired. I can't make the YMCA allow gay's and lesbians to join with family memberships any more than I can make my parents believe that I'm not going to burn in hell for all of eternity for loving another person.
Sometimes we have to pick our battles. I still boycott Wal-Mart and Cracker Barrel (unless I have a gift certificate) and I even wrestled with my Starbucks addiction, taming it to a manageable level, only having their burnt tasting lattes once every blue moon, or so. They are the true corporate whores, if you ask me. But on this one instance, I'm gonna have to sell out and conform just a bit. I need the use of their ellipticals and the treadmills on Mondays and Wednesdays. I'll let you know how it works out.( No pun intended)
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