My children are heavily involved in a plethora of extracurriculars that are finding me sitting in ice rinks, dance studios, swimming pools, baseball stadiums.
My only current extracurricular is fighting with my printer.
It’s funny that you think this isn’t an aerobic activity.
There’s yelling and shouting and crying and an entire arm workout just trying to figure out how the paper jam is even happening and there’s also running back and forth between the computer and the printer in an attempt to get to the bottom of how on earth I am supposed to use this ridiculous contraption as a scanner when the computer tells me to do it at the printer and the printer tells me I need to do it at the computer. There’s no printer-Mac agreement to be had. AND WHAT IS THAT WEIRD NOISE?
It’s funny the the US of A put a man on the moon in 1969 but here we are in 2013 and can’t figure out how to make printing a silly piece of paper an easy process. It was easier when I was in 6th grade and had a dot matrix printer and used my printer to print out banners I made in print shop.
It’s kind of how I feel about those sharp contraptions that they shove into your face at the dentist in order to take x-rays. Why haven’t they figured out how to make those less painful, awkward, and gag-worthy? What are scientists doing with their time anyway? Oh yes, ios7.
So, it’s Ali VS the printer, which is kind of like Joe VS the volcano, but actually funny.
And at least I am acquiring myself some arms muscles for the first time in my 35 years on this earth.
It’s either the printer fighting or my new trainer Darren who comes to my house each week to force me to contort my body into ways I didn’t know were possible and forces me to check all my pride at the door because no one looks cute while doing jumping frog squats. It’s a thing, I swear.
I had such a good relationship with my lovely Trainer Kim. She liked to make me cry and I liked to let her. She suggested impossible moves and didn’t flinch when I made sarcastic jokes and told her how funny she was that she thought 150 lunges was an appropriate amount of lunges. But, then Kim decided that her heart was really in the education of young minds and while I tried to convince her that educating my stubborn and weakly muscles was really a very worth cause, she wasn’t buying it and threw in the trainer towel for good, leaving my cheese—and my newfound oblique muscles—out in the wind to fend for ourselves.
Until I found Darren.
Who comes to my house.
It’s a lazy person’s/mom’s/person who looks ridiculous while trying to balance on a bosu ball and do burpees dream! You guys, I could work out in my pajamas if I wanted to—I could wear my best Sophia Petrillo housedress+knitter cardigan+orthopedic shoes. Picture it, Thornhill, 2013.
Thankfully for Darren’s sake I haven’t given up completely.
I have, however, given up on my printer and have officially added this to my holiday wishlist.
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