Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Weak Sauce

I just heard some new slang from one of the guys at work: “weak sauce.”  As in, “that is totally weak sauce.”  I think it is a synonym for lame.


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I’m never weak sauce.


So Tony was going to blog about his triathlon experience a couple of weeks ago, but he is being totally weak sauce, so I’ll do it.  On a not-so-sunny Friday, My friend Steph came to town and we abandoned our dogs (they lived through our absence, yay!) to the dirt-pit backyard, picked up Charles, picked up Leland and his bicycle, and headed to Freeland on Whidbey Island.  There we met Tony, our dentists, their dog, and Charlie’s parents (he’s the male half of the dental team).  Ute (the other half) and I made dinner, which, talk about awkward.  I mean, here we were, swarming into someone else’s beach home, providing dinner, taking over their house for a night, and we didn’t even know them.  And I worked my tail off to make dinner in advance and keep Charles happy so everyone could sleep.  And the dinner boiled over in the oven and got it all gross, and Charles had several messy diapers (thank God he didn’t leak on the sofa or something!), and I was stressed


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You stress too much.  Look at how cute I am!  How can life be stressful with this much cuteness at hand?  Stop being weak sauce.


Ute swam the first leg of the triathlon, Leland biked, and Tony ran.  Ute was a fish, I am pretty sure she came in first in the team division for the swim.  Leland took a wrong turn and lost 5 minutes, but still ended up 9th out of 25 teams.  Tony ran 4 miles in under 32 minutes, but I don’t know how he placed.  They did really well, we were all very proud, and then we were happy to get home.


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15 miles in an hour is not weak sauce.


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The excessive sweating may be gross, but it is not weak sauce. {Also, please note the beefcakiness of Tony… he’s been running and moving dirt like crazy!  Not weak sauce at all.}

In other news, I grew these:


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Hells yeah, bitches!  I grew these!  Who’s weak sauce now?

And, of course, the joy continues (despite the fact that I suspect his 2-year molars are coming in):

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Waffle!  Rocker!  I love life!  Life is the opposite of weak sauce!


Sarah said...

I can't believe you had never heard weak sauce before. Although admittedly I've heard it mostly from adolescent males, I'm surprised that it has only just now come to your attention. However, with your usage in this blog, I'd say you could probably take a weak sauce vacation for a year or so and be just fine.

Mom and Dad said...

What a great story!! Course I never heard the expression so my lesson begins....The pix are great and very defined men you post, including that toothy one in the chairs with the big blue eyes!! Sorry we won't see you this weekend. Leaving at 4am tomorrow for the airport, be back Sunday. Joe tells me he may ride back on a motorcycle. Course my butt isn't iron enough to have made the ride........

K Schimmy said...

Man, those beans were pretty intimidating to begin with, but then you started talkin' all trash-like, and now I'm really scared!