Ole Dorito Bag.
That’s…*SIGH*…that’s apparently my new nickname.
I don’t even eat Doritos anymore.
And do we really have to throw the “ole” in front?
What started off as a pleasant gym reunion. With Fall Risk. And LL. And me. All of J-Vicious’s favorite and least disruptive clients. Together again. For a PlayFITStayFIT workout.
And it was going so well.
We were just doing the exercises without complaint. Happy to be together again. And fitnessing.
We love exercise.
When LL started reminiscing about the time J-V sent her into the heart of…well, a place that a woman should not be crawling around other people’s property without invitation. Or really even with invitation. In the middle of the night. To hide a bunch of Easter eggs.
I mean, it’s a fun concept. You can pay PlayFIT to hide a bunch of treat-filled plastic eggs in your backyard for your child…or just you…to wake up to on Easter morning.
Just…if J-V sends you a questionable address. Probably assume he just can’t spell. Because he can’t.
At any rate, this led to him divulging just how he has LL listed in his phone contacts.
It’s not nice.
And somehow. As I was just diligently working out. Just doing exactly what I was told. Minding my own business. He just throws the phrase “Ole Dorito Bag” out there.
Like we all don’t know he’s talking about me.
I’m going to directly refuse this nickname. Just so we’re clear.
Also, if you want to get your yard egged for Easter, you can sign up HERE.
You don’t even have to have kids. Like, it could be a really fun drinking game for adults. Find an egg. Take a shot?
Personally, I think it’d be fun to sign up to have a friend’s yard egged. And don’t tell them you’re doing it. And see how many months it takes them to figure out why they keep finding eggs in random places.
Just…maybe a friend that sleeps pretty soundly. We don’t want to get LL arrested.
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