Busy daddy has been taking a new yoga class with his fancy new yoga friends at a nearby fancy new yoga studio in an alternative-reality Uppityville, so it’s just been the boy and me on Saturday mornings lately.
I debated with myself for 20 minutes trying to decide if I could come up with a legitimate excuse to cancel my workout with Fake Chris, but I couldn’t think of one, so the boy and I schlepped to the gym for a quik-e workout.
My workout with Fake Chris was actually pretty good, but totally kicked my ass. We ended with Greco-Roman wrestling, which is hard, yo. Honestly, I don’t understand the appeal of wrestling. I barely want people who I know and like to touch me, I don’t know why anypony would want to manhandle and be manhandled by a complete stranger.
The boy spent his time at the child care center drawing and stuff. Unfortunately, that ho-bag Gina (rhymes with vagina) was manning the check-in desk and sort of ruined my morning. Gosh, I really hate dislike that ho-bag Gina. She can suck it for all I care.