It wasn’t exactly a badass start to the day. I woke up at 9am feeling tired and bloated – I’d gone to bed late and ate all the cheese in the room at the Mayor’s Ball.
I had a choice. I could lie in bed, happily belching until lunchtime, or I could haul my sadass out of bed and get some good stuff done. I chose the latter.
Doing things the badass way
I went for a windy (I am referring to the weather reader!) run with the dog and despite my family’s protestations, took myself into town, found a quiet spot at our local theatre and did a few hours of writing. Then, I went to a multi-storey car park, lay flat on my belly and took photographs of our pop-up VW camper van card – honestly, the things I’ll do for cash.
When I got home, I finished editing a video for the bakery. My 17-year-old son kindly pointed out ‘You can see it wasn’t made by a professional.’ Kids eh? On Friday night, my 11-year-old daughter begged to do my eye-up, I let her and she said disappointedly ‘Oh, it’s difficult on an old person because the wrinkles all bunch up.’
Perhaps I should host a ‘How To Develop Skin Like A Rhino’ class and put the kids to good use. I could probably charge a fortune.
Time for a Ruby Murray
By 5pm I was pretty damned pleased that I’d chosen a badass kind of Saturday. When I’ve finished this, I am going to eat a curry and watch some trashy TV. I reckon I’ve earned it.
I am a glorious badass. I am on it like a car bonnet. I’m going all the way to the top. Oh and I am also a humungous cash magnet.