I'm gonna write a comment, and you're gonna write something that would've gotten that response outta me.
Tell me something that would make me say---
"So glad you shared. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."
I've been hanging out with Gym a lot lately. Like five or six times a week. And let me tell you, he's been kicking my butt. Kick.Ing.It. With a name like Urban Active, how could I resist joining? I knew I needed to do something not only to get in shape but also to improve my mental/emotional health. So I hooked up with Gym.
To say I was intimidated on our first date would be a ridiculous understatement. My chest tightened with anxiety just looking at all the equipment that I had no clue how to use, and seeing all the people who very clearly knew what they were doing.
But I dove right in, expending more energy in one 20-minute session than I had in weeks. Months.
And I hobbled for days afterward. No lie. Hover-peeing was completely out of the question, and walking down a set of stairs nearly ended in catastrophe on more than one occasion.
But I kept seeing Gym.
And the I-can't-believe-it-hurts-this-much soreness gradually subsided---for the most part.
Now Gym and I spend an hour together just about every day. I work hard; I sweat a disgusting amount; I huff and puff all the way to the bitter end. Today I pushed myself really hard. And I've had jell-o legs ever since. [Note to self: Hold the handrail on the way downstairs.]
While I don't expect I'll ever say, I love working out!, I do walk away feeling exhausted proud of myself.
So for that reason, I can say I love Gym.
Even though he kicks my butt.
I'm gonna leave a comment and you write something that would've gotten that response outta me.
You can say as much or as little as you want. It's entirely up to you.
Just give me something that would make me say---
"I just scooped my jaw off the floor---I can't believe you said that!"
A conversation from my last babysitting experience, just a few weeks ago:
Little Sister: There's another word I can never say right.
Me: Oh yeah? Which one?
Little Sister: New International Virgin. You know, like the Bible?
Me: [laughing] Mmhmm...
Little Sister: [trying to sound it out] Virgin... Virgin... Virgin... See. I can't say that word.
Slightly Older Sister: That's what Mary was, right?
Me: Umm, yeah. So, whose turn is it on Wii Bowling?
What word(s) do you have a hard time saying?
I've never been pulled over before. Until tonight. I've gotten tickets, but only because of those stupid ridiculous precious cameras posted along the highways in South Africa. And they've all been delivered by the unreliable postal service. I've never gotten a ticket in America. And never directly from a cop. Thankfully I can still say that. Even after tonight. Phew.
Thirty minutes before, I debated about whether or not I should hit the bathroom one more time. I'd been chugging water all night and had made frequent trips to the restroom. I kinda had to pee but figured I could easily handle the 20-minute drive home.
But as soon as I got into my freezing car, my bladder shrunk. Oh well, what's a girl to do? I just blared some tunes and hit the road. (Sidebar: In response to my recent post, a friend mailed me her iPod car adapter to borrow! Am I blessed or what?!)
Not five minutes away from my house, a cop car pulled out behind me. And when the red-and-blues started flashing in my rearview mirror, I groaned out loud. I was on this troublesome road that deceives you me with its four lanes. The speed limit is only 25; I was going closer to 35 40.
My heart was racing as I pulled to the side of the road. My only experiences with this sort of thing come from watching COPS. And we all know those encounters never end well.
I was in a borrowed car. With an out-of-state license. And I'm a resident of another country. The story was clearly way too complicated to explain to a policeman on the side of the road on a freezing night when my bladder was about to burst.
After way too long of an exchange, the cop decided just to give me a written warning. "After all," he said, "You need a souvenir from Ohio."
I smiled and squeezed my legs even tighter together. I wanted to tell him that my currently-developing urinary tract infection was more than enough of a souvenir. But I refrained.
All that to say: It's true what your mom used to tell you. You should always pee one last time.
The winning video had me doubled-over in laughter. I've watched it over a dozen times, and it still makes me laugh. Every. Single. Time.
The Make Me Laugh award goes to...
:: insert drum roll here ::
... Tracee and Stephanie!
I hope their video makes the rest of you laugh even half as much as I did.Watching it is definitely worth the four+ minutes you'll never get back.
Tracee and Steph? Your StarBUCKS and iCASH will be heading your way soon. Oh, and you've got a week to submit your acceptance speech video, ok? Your fans will be waiting. I know you won't disappoint us.
A huge thanks to all of you who participated. You seriously made my day week month.
I've received some great submissions for the Make Me Laugh video contest. (I'm smiling just typing that out, thinking about what some of you did!) And I've decided to extend the deadline to next Monday. Because a few of you let me know that circumstances interfered with getting your videos made on time. And really, because, well, I'd rather get in as many laughs as I can.
(Need a refresher on the rules of the contest? Go here.)
In other news... You can order just about anything these days.
I'm just sayin'!
And it's your turn to provide me a dose of laughter medication.
Head over to the talk to me page and you'll see a new feature I recently added to the Grit. You can easily record and send me a video (or audio) message that comes straight to me. It isn't displayed online; I'm the only one who sees it.
So get your webcam rolling and create a funny video to send me. The person who makes me laugh the hardest will be declared the winner.
- You can submit as many entries as you'd like.
- Record your video here. If you'd rather film/edit your video some other way and email it to me, that's fine, too.
- Submissions must be received by midnight (EST) on Monday, January 12th 19th.
- Winning video will be displayed on my blog.
- Winner will receive some bucks to spend at two of my favorite places to drop cash: Starbucks and iTunes.
Got it? Let me know if you have any questions!
This is your time to shine. And my time to laugh.
Bring it on!
Man, it's been ages since we've played a game here at the Grit. I think it's time to resume the weekly ritual. Here goes:
- Post a definition for the made-up word above your comment, or use the word in a sentence.
- Then leave a made-up word for the next person.
- Have fun!
Starter word: gatvol (thanks, Anti!)
It's sad, but true. Twenty-six people have found the Grit by searching for "hot butts".
I said they found the Grit that way. Not me!
I need to work on that. I'm a little behind. (Ha!)
This is number twenty-four on my Christmas wish list:
That makes me laugh probably more than it should.
What's something you don't want for Christmas?
Have you ever stopped to think about The Twelve Days of Christmas song? Seriously, does anyone want their true love to give them so many birds? Between the partridge, turtle doves, French hens, calling birds, laying geese, and swimming swans, I’d say you’d really just end up with a whole lotta crap to clean up.
And I can’t help but think of a horrible musical with all those milking maids, dancing ladies, leaping lords, piping pipers, and drumming drummers. Cue mental image of men in tights wielding musical instruments and frolicking about with large-chested women. No thanks.
The only thing in the song my true love is even allowed to give me is (white) gold rings. But, in all honesty, who needs five? Certainly not me.
Is there a Christmas song you either totally love or totally hate? (Make sure you tell us why!)
Did you know there are condom vending machines in Italy? There are. Right along the busy streets, next to Louis Vuitton and a myriad of lingerie stores. Every time we saw one of the condom-dispensing machines, we joked about buying some. We finally went for it. In went five Euro. Out came a pack of six condoms.
Definitely worth the money spent. (That's what she said.)
Driving for 16 hours---as the one actually behind the wheel, which I'm only clarifying because any of my passengers could justifiably say the same phrase---Anyway... Let me start over. Driving for 16 hours was totally worth it. Especially each time we laughed long and loud over goofy shenanigans in our car. And when we came up over that hill and there before us was the most exquisite vineyard-laced valley. And when we emerged from the long tunnel to see our first glimpse of Cape Town. And when we drove by Table Mountain, blanketed by a huge cloud.
Yeah, driving for 16 hours was totally worth it. Especially when the interns opened their hearts to us---and each other---in our first debriefing session this morning. And when they were still discussing Nehemiah 6:3 later in the day. And when we walked along the pier that juts into the white-capped ocean this afternoon.
Driving for 16 hours was totally worth it. Especially when Niel and I went out to dinner with some older missionary friends this evening and he had to explain his God-awful haircut. That was worth the price of admission right there!
Crystal's wearing "THE shirt". It makes an appearance once a year here at Thrive Africa.
It all started in 2005 with the arrival of our interns. One of them stepped off the airplane to start his year with us wearing THE shirt. He'd had it made just for the occasion. We laughed; we cringed; we told him he wasn't allowed to wear it off the mission base.
The next year, smack in the middle of our summer internship program, THE shirt surfaced again. At the end of a Family Night gathering at our house, one of our summer interns took off his sweatshirt and there it was! THE shirt! It was an incredibly fun surprise, and the rest of the night was filled with a lot of laughter.
Last year one of our interns did something similar. At the end of Thrive Church, she unzipped her fleece and revealed THE shirt! It caught us totally off-guard---once again!---and solidified its spot as a Thrive family tradition.
Two weeks ago at a staff meeting, we went around the room sharing testimonies, same as always. When it was Crystal's turn to share, she started off by saying how hot it was in the room. She dramatically pulled her sweatshirt over her head, revealing THE shirt underneath. Niel and I couldn't stop laughing.
So, in case you hadn't heard, this is THE shirt to wear this season!