Getting Back on the Horse

I wasn't sure I was ready to dust off my Pogo Stick and jump rope.  After all, I had just had Rotator Cuff surgery in December.

But I listed that skill on my audition sheet for the Hunchback of Notre Dame.  If I get cast it will undoubtedly be because of my Pogo Stick prowess.

Certainly not because of my vocals.

On top of that I had to open my big fat mouth to Keela.  Now, apparently, I'm performing at a United Way talent show at work.

I wasn't even sure I could still do it.  My friend George told me that if I 'used to could' jump rope on a Pogo Stick', I probably could still do it.

That's easy for him to say.

I told Dave about my conundrum and he flat out told me that I was getting too old for such nonsense.

"What?"  I was appalled and insulted.  "I used to be really good at it."

George's voice echoed in my head.  I used to could jump rope on a Pogo Stick.  

What if my jump rope Pogo Sticking days were over?

There was only one way to tell.  I grabbed my Pogo Stick from the closet and headed through the kitchen.  

"What if you get hurt?" Dave asked.

"What could possibly happen?" I responded.  I was really starting to get annoyed with him. I opened the back door, Pogo Stick in hand, ready to take the leap.

Seriously.  How could I get hurt jump roping on a Pogo Stick?  I just had to make sure I maintained sufficient height so the jump rope didn't catch on the bottom of the Pogo Stick.

Because, of course, if that happened, the jump rope would pull the Pogo Stick backward, which would launch me forward.  And cause me to land on my face.  On the driveway.  Re-injuring my shoulder.  Or breaking my wrist.   Or my neck.  And I'd have to call to Dave for help.

"Do you have your button?"  Dave hollered to me.

I reopened the door.  "What????"

"Your I've fallen and I can't get up button....do you have it?"

"You are hysterical.  Not."  I slammed the door.

I looked at my Pogo Stick.  It had never let me down.  Not when I was performing at that Gong show in the '80s.  Not when I did my shtick at Kimmy's Kindergarten class in 1993.  And certainly not in front of sold-out audiences at 15 damn performances of Gypsy seven years ago.

I picked up my jump rope and rested it on my shoulders.  I climbed aboard my trusty Pogo Stick and began to hop.  Higher and higher.  I used my knees to hold the Pogo Stick upright, grabbed the jump rope and began to swing it.

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.

That's enough.

I dismounted and parked my Pogo Stick, resting the jump rope over the handle. 

I limped into the house screaming, "DAVE!!!!  HELP!  I NEED ICE!  AND BAND AIDS.  LOTS OF THEM."

Dave raised his eyebrow.  

 "And wine."  

I had something to celebrate.

My Toilet Paper Origami Groove

I honestly don't recall purchasing the Toilet Paper Origami book.  I had probably intended to "delight my guests with fancy folds."  But based on the folded up piece of toilet paper on page 15, I hadn't gotten very far.

But that was then and this is now.  And I am far more talented and crafty than I was when I purchased the book.  

Whenever the hell that was.

And Kimmy is working at a fancy-ass hotel in Maine this summer.  Maybe when I go visit her next month I can offer my services.

I could either create the origami toilet paper art myself or train her Housekeeping staff. Which ever they prefer.

That's how accommodating I am.

I started by making a rose. 

I have to admit, it was a little rough.  

Hey! I could have lied and said I started with a bunny rabbit who lost his bonnet.  But I didn't.

And did I give up?  Hell no!

Since the hotel is in Maine, I decided to create a sail boat.

That was so easy, I made a lovely maiden.

Then I started to get into my Toilet Paper Origami groove. The maiden needed a flower atop her head.  It was almost perfect.

But something was missing.  One more detail.  

I added Josh, one of my drinking buddies to the mix and achieved TOILET PAPER ORIGAMI PERFECTION.

I was so proud.  And happy.   Knowing just how blown away Kimmy and her Housekeeping staff will be when I offer my services next month.

But I was exhausted.  All that folding was way too much for my poor fingers.   

I thought again about about that fancy-ass Maine hotel. 

All those bathrooms. 

I may need to simplify my design if I have any chance of finishing up in time for Happy Hour.

The Intern

Those jokers at the Japan Trend Shop are so funny!  They come up with the best products.  Like the crazy Mousou Bust Under Boobs T-Shirt: Exposed female chest joke clothing.

I mean, who wouldn't want to wear this to Food Lion on a Sunday morning?

What I wouldn't give to hang out with their Marketing people.  Maybe go for a cup of coffee.  Or a sushi.

Because they're always thinking!  Finding ways to extend their product lines. I mean, check out this Cat Tail Baby Romper!   It's genius!  I only wish it was available in my size.  I would love to wear it to work.

There must be an Intern working in the Japan Trend Shop Marketing department this summer.  I think that the Mousou Exposed Butt T-Shirt has missed the mark.  Am I the only one who thinks it looks more like nipple-less boobs than a butt?

At least it's creative.  

It must be hard to be an intern at the Japan Trend Shop.  Surrounded by all those Marketing geniuses.  

You know, I wouldn't completely abandon the idea.  Maybe if it had a tail....