Okay, I'm back from the vacation, so we're returning to our regularly scheduled programming. But first, I've got to tell you about our vacation. You will NOT believe what happened.
So we got all packed up, which is a saga in and of itself, and lugged the whole family (that would be moi, my husband Slayer, my Batson, and twins Left and Right) to a small family resort in Western Michigan. It's one of those little places with shuffleboard and paddleboats. I keep expecting 80s era Patrick Swayze to show up and teach the Thriller dance, but he's disappointed me so far.
Can't you just see that? "No one puts Baby Zombie in the corner."
Anyway, so we're at the welcome cookout, and what do I see? A short guy with an afro, standing at the table and surreptitiously spooning baked beans onto his plate. It made me snort a little, because afros are just funny.
Create your own FACEinHOLE
See what I mean?
Anyway, I go to get a hot dog, because I'm all about roasting doggies over an open fire. And he turns around.
It was HIM. I mean, really him.
So I go all swoony, because really, what else do you do when you've caught Richard Simmons on a secret baked bean binge? I half expected him to hide a helping in his afro, but unfortunately that didn't happen. Personally, I think the only good reason to have an afro in the first place is so you can hide baked beans in it, but maybe that's just me.
Anyway, there I am, looking at the wonder that is The Simm, alive and in the flesh, and I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing, and I nearly impaled myself on one of the doggie roasting sticks.
Luckily, I managed to save myself from being impaled and roasted over an open flame. This was a good thing because it meant that I could get Richard's autograph and, you know, LIVE. It also meant that I got to sweat to some oldies, and really, you haven't lived until you've done that with The Simm. The only thing that would have made it better is if he would have taught the Thriller dance.
Okay, so none of that is true, except for the part where I nearly impaled myself on the hot dog poker. THAT is true. Otherwise, vacation was uneventful. I did write a short story called "Revenge of the Mucus Shovel Fairy." How's that for excitement?
Personally, I prefer the story about Richard Simmons storing baked beans in his afro.