the most painful muffin top story

I called Kim earlier today because she was at Harmons and she had left me a message asking me where to find the uncooked tortillas.

Why do I tell you this extraneous detail? Why do I tell you ANY extraneous detail? I’ll tell you—it’s because I can’t help it.

I was teaching a class yesterday. I wanted to tell the members of the class that I would bring cookies each Sunday, because that’s what I do.

But I couldn’t just say that. I had to tell a long convoluted story about Monica from Friends, and how she told Ross and Carol’s baby that “she would always have gum.” And Ian, who was in the class, said “you didn’t have to tell us all that. You could have just said ‘I will always bring cookies.’”

To which I replied, “Have you MET me?”

Um. Where was I?

Oh, right, Kim, and Harmons, and tortillas.

Anyway. I expressed my apathy and complete lack of ideas for any new content for this blog. “It’s run its course,” I said. “Fulfilled the measure of its creation.”

“Whatever,” she said. “I’ll send you an email to remind you of your conversation with Holden the other night at bedtime.”

Here is Kim’s email, unedited, since that was one of her conditions, because she says I always quote her as saying stuff that she hasn’t said. (Pfft):

Holden just asked dug, who is in bed, to stand on his [Holden’s] feet so he [Holden] could do sit-ups.
Dug said "no, it’s 10pm, go to bed."
Holden said, "don’t you want me to get married?"
Dug said "I wasn’t buff and mom married me"
Holden said "it’s normal to have a muffin top when you’re 45. I’m sure you were buff when you got married."
Dug said "thx."
Holden said "I like to pat your belly." And he came over to the bed and gave dug’s belly a pat.

I will now put a brick on the gas pedal and drive over my own head.

[By the way, muffintop is the number one search term people use to find my blog. I’m so proud.]