We have new blue and white lane lines and backstroke flags in the pool. My suit didn't match. But thanks to Wonder Woman and sweat shop laborers who didn't size her new swimsuit correctly, now I do! The Incredible Hunk daintily held it up in front of him to show us how it would look on him. I don't think it would fit one thigh.
But if I read between the lines it's obvious to me, at least, that he was frustrated that he couldn't wear a suit such as this because it's not gender appropriate. I am very intuitive.
T.B.B. is also very impressed with the new lane lines, so much so that it reminds us all how well that funding could have been reallocated to fix up the Ladies Locker Room instead. READ: paint the lockers, fix the flush on toilet #2, and get some freakin' ventilation in there. Yes, I have B.O. when I work out and between that and the perfume I try to mask it with and the shower fog and the fact that many of us hot flash and need AIR it's a wonder that we workout inside at all. Oh, and while you're at it, how about re-painting the friendly reminder to have a shower before getting in the pool on the door exiting the Ladies Locker Room onto the pool deck. Sub-title "did you have a poo this morning???"
FYI, I like working out on weekends and showering at home. No cooties.
But if I read between the lines it's obvious to me, at least, that T.B.B., like me, kept hitting the now raised lane lines with her hands and really doesn't appreciate stupid little bruises. I am so very, very intuitive.
Because of the bright shiny new lights and the new lane lines, all the other stuff that needs a facelift is so much more apparent than it was. Like me for instance. Also the grime around the hooks near the hot tub, the scum in the drains on the pool perimeter, and the 6" of dust on the fish balloon still hanging over Lane #8. And the Band-Aids in the water. And the hairballs.
I definitely look better in low light. So does our pool.
But if I read between the lines it's obvious to me, at least, that the best thing happening between the lines are chlorinated water at the perfect temperature (finally), friendly faces, and, as Sharin' will attest, the la-la land of a great swim on a Sunday morning. Life may at sometimes totally suck but the pool will ALWAYS make it a better day.
Time for a bourbon on the rocks.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
A Little Piece
Even a little piece of crap floating around in the pool is enough to give me the willies. You watch it migrate over to the next lane and suddenly you feel MUCH cleaner.
I think there are guys, especially (not to pick on you but hey, it's easy) that come to the Y because they are dirty. I met a friend from work in the lobby on Thursday night as I waited for Gumdrop to arrive for my massage. This friend looked out the front windows as a man was walking in and asked if that was who I was looking for. It was the ugliest, dirtiest, frumpiest old man you've ever seen, carrying a pink gym bag. I laughed - too funny! The thought of him touching anything still makes me slightest queasy.
Like BFUNS who crowded Sharin's lane a few weeks ago. I'm pretty sure he didn't come to swim. He just needed a bath.
Or the rub a dub dub scene this morning in the hot tub. Batman was in there for 90 minutes, clearly taking no heed of the dire warnings of limiting your stay to ten minutes, but so were several other funky looking guys (none died, FYI). They were all in there talking and laughing and, I'll bet you, shampooing and shaving and getting a pedicure at the same time. But there were no floaties when I got in later so I think I was safe from radioactive cooties.
The good weather folks are working out outside again and bringing in lots of crap on their shoes and leaving it all over the floors in the locker room, the mats, and in the showers. Little pieces of mud and things called "plants" and rocks and other unknown bits that really do not make for good adult hygiene in a busy gym. But the Puddle Fairy has at least been nixed by the magical appearance of an actual mop to clean up after herself, but I'm not sure she knows how to use it. She left the puddle and went into the loo. I put the mop up against her locker and made my escape to work. I hope she gets a clue.
The kind of little piece that I need is not in my bed, thanks for offering. I am searching for a little peace. I'm working on it. The cat is better, my blood pressure is down, the weather is lovely and the wine is chilled. Thanks to Gumdrop for helping me relax. I'll try not to let things get too me, including the paper towels someone left inside my locker for me this morning.
I think there are guys, especially (not to pick on you but hey, it's easy) that come to the Y because they are dirty. I met a friend from work in the lobby on Thursday night as I waited for Gumdrop to arrive for my massage. This friend looked out the front windows as a man was walking in and asked if that was who I was looking for. It was the ugliest, dirtiest, frumpiest old man you've ever seen, carrying a pink gym bag. I laughed - too funny! The thought of him touching anything still makes me slightest queasy.
Like BFUNS who crowded Sharin's lane a few weeks ago. I'm pretty sure he didn't come to swim. He just needed a bath.
Or the rub a dub dub scene this morning in the hot tub. Batman was in there for 90 minutes, clearly taking no heed of the dire warnings of limiting your stay to ten minutes, but so were several other funky looking guys (none died, FYI). They were all in there talking and laughing and, I'll bet you, shampooing and shaving and getting a pedicure at the same time. But there were no floaties when I got in later so I think I was safe from radioactive cooties.
The good weather folks are working out outside again and bringing in lots of crap on their shoes and leaving it all over the floors in the locker room, the mats, and in the showers. Little pieces of mud and things called "plants" and rocks and other unknown bits that really do not make for good adult hygiene in a busy gym. But the Puddle Fairy has at least been nixed by the magical appearance of an actual mop to clean up after herself, but I'm not sure she knows how to use it. She left the puddle and went into the loo. I put the mop up against her locker and made my escape to work. I hope she gets a clue.
The kind of little piece that I need is not in my bed, thanks for offering. I am searching for a little peace. I'm working on it. The cat is better, my blood pressure is down, the weather is lovely and the wine is chilled. Thanks to Gumdrop for helping me relax. I'll try not to let things get too me, including the paper towels someone left inside my locker for me this morning.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Mine Mine Mine
By 5:15 a.m. a female someone has stacked up all her gear - towel, ditty bag, coat, clothes, etc. - in Shower Stall #4. I used it anyway when I showered before my swim on Friday. I did my best to splash her stuff.
This Unknown Female has claimed that stall - Mine Mine Mine - but I like that shower, even though there are clearly four others I can use. So it's the principle of the thing, and surely you know I have plenty of principles. What to do??? Do I move her stuff? Leave a sign "Buy a lock"? Use her towel? Swipe her car keys? Report this clear lack of consideration to other members? The S.L.B. possibilities are endless.
I was half a lap off from moving into the next lane, Lane #8, on Friday, but Evil Lifeguard was looking out for her man D.G. and got him in there before I even had a chance. Because, as we all know, this is his lane. It seems that he feels he's more entitled than everyone else to that lane, which is usually a lane all to oneself (no one likes to swim the wall). So I continued to have to share mine, which was okay because he was cute. Anyway, when another lane opened up and he pointed it out to me I said back "I was going to take your lane but you were too fast for me", then I turned my attention back to doing laps. Clearly he was taken off guard by this almost direct way of telling him off because he left soon after. I got his lane. Mine Mine Mine.
Curry the Nitwit must have had sex or something before coming to the gym this morning because he was running late. He's always the first one in the pool on Saturday and Sunday and he always swims in Lane #3, "his" lane. However, coming in at 6:45 it was already occupied by Sharin'. Now, there were other lanes he could swim in, but noooooooooo, had to have his lane. Mine Mine Mine. But she said something to him and he moved over and got in with Lover Boy instead! She has amazing powers. I am in awe. Maybe because she's pretty she gets away with it. When I tell people off they just throw it back in my face. Perhaps I need to practice.
So tomorrow morning I will get there right at 5:00, put Yellow Bag, my little towel, and the water bottle on one of the spin bikes (if I'm lucky, my bike, Number #2) before I load my locker and come back in 3.5 minutes to do my thing. If anyone zaps me for not being present and tries to move my stuff and take my bike over I hope it's someone that I love, like Cookie instead of Boob Job, who, I understand, will push your stuff over with her foot if she wants to take over your mat. If that happens I will just smile my prettiest messy hair, no makeup, bed wrinkled smile and, uh, I don't know, probably say something stupid.
Do you remember the seagulls in "Finding Nemo"??? The next time I get bumped I think maybe I'm going to start the chant: "Mine. Mine Mine. Mine Mine Mine." Instead of getting pissed off. Should be fun!
xxx
This Unknown Female has claimed that stall - Mine Mine Mine - but I like that shower, even though there are clearly four others I can use. So it's the principle of the thing, and surely you know I have plenty of principles. What to do??? Do I move her stuff? Leave a sign "Buy a lock"? Use her towel? Swipe her car keys? Report this clear lack of consideration to other members? The S.L.B. possibilities are endless.
I was half a lap off from moving into the next lane, Lane #8, on Friday, but Evil Lifeguard was looking out for her man D.G. and got him in there before I even had a chance. Because, as we all know, this is his lane. It seems that he feels he's more entitled than everyone else to that lane, which is usually a lane all to oneself (no one likes to swim the wall). So I continued to have to share mine, which was okay because he was cute. Anyway, when another lane opened up and he pointed it out to me I said back "I was going to take your lane but you were too fast for me", then I turned my attention back to doing laps. Clearly he was taken off guard by this almost direct way of telling him off because he left soon after. I got his lane. Mine Mine Mine.
Curry the Nitwit must have had sex or something before coming to the gym this morning because he was running late. He's always the first one in the pool on Saturday and Sunday and he always swims in Lane #3, "his" lane. However, coming in at 6:45 it was already occupied by Sharin'. Now, there were other lanes he could swim in, but noooooooooo, had to have his lane. Mine Mine Mine. But she said something to him and he moved over and got in with Lover Boy instead! She has amazing powers. I am in awe. Maybe because she's pretty she gets away with it. When I tell people off they just throw it back in my face. Perhaps I need to practice.
So tomorrow morning I will get there right at 5:00, put Yellow Bag, my little towel, and the water bottle on one of the spin bikes (if I'm lucky, my bike, Number #2) before I load my locker and come back in 3.5 minutes to do my thing. If anyone zaps me for not being present and tries to move my stuff and take my bike over I hope it's someone that I love, like Cookie instead of Boob Job, who, I understand, will push your stuff over with her foot if she wants to take over your mat. If that happens I will just smile my prettiest messy hair, no makeup, bed wrinkled smile and, uh, I don't know, probably say something stupid.
Do you remember the seagulls in "Finding Nemo"??? The next time I get bumped I think maybe I'm going to start the chant: "Mine. Mine Mine. Mine Mine Mine." Instead of getting pissed off. Should be fun!
xxx
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Deep Six Inches
The sidewalk in front of the Y is being replaced. This is, I think, the perfect opportunity to do in a few select Members We Can Do Without.
With only 6-8 inches of new concrete, it is important that those that we decide to entomb are cut up into smaller chunks so they don't float to the top. When I suggested this to Socks, one of our lifeguards, I will say in his favor that he didn't blink an eye at my suggestion. I offered to bring in plenty of plastic sheeting and he said he would work on his butchering skills. He is my new favorite.
On Wednesday a big fat ugly non-swimmer (BFUNS) got in by the wall in Lane 8 with Sharin'. Lover Boy and I watched the drama unfold. BFUNS only managed to survive about 6 laps before bailing, but that was enough to have Sharin' feeling bad about maybe being mean that she didn't want him there. She's asking me if she was being mean, but I reassured her, I hope, that it's OK, I'm mean too. I'm on her side totally. He should have just slept in, as usual, and had a Dunkin Donuts morning like most of America. He is definitely on my list of Members We Can Do Without.
Exercising inside at the Y instead of outside where you should be in May, or encased in cement, you will have a white ass if you are as white as I am. But there are plenty of folk with nice tans from trips to FL (or in preparation for a trip to FL). Me, I'm going cheap. I hung around on the back porch today because it is absolutely lovely - sunny and warm - AND, with the new banks of overpowered fluorescent lighting in the pool, I am more than certain I can also work on my tan while I do laps. I've been told that the new lighting is part of a "green" initiative, but I think if the lighting is so bright I can see the color of my heartbeat that maybe they need to maybe pull out a few bulbs. FYI, all the original lights are lit, in addition to the new lights, so I can't see how exactly we are saving energy, but if we are I expect my membership dues will come down really soon.
Did you all see the news this week about the NJ Tanning Lady bringing her kid into a tanning salon with her??? No doubt she is going to die from skin cancer, so no need to put her in cement. Instead, for only $51.00/month, we can stretch out on a towel out on the pool deck at the Guilderland Y. Cheap, just the way I like it.
With only 6-8 inches of new concrete, it is important that those that we decide to entomb are cut up into smaller chunks so they don't float to the top. When I suggested this to Socks, one of our lifeguards, I will say in his favor that he didn't blink an eye at my suggestion. I offered to bring in plenty of plastic sheeting and he said he would work on his butchering skills. He is my new favorite.
On Wednesday a big fat ugly non-swimmer (BFUNS) got in by the wall in Lane 8 with Sharin'. Lover Boy and I watched the drama unfold. BFUNS only managed to survive about 6 laps before bailing, but that was enough to have Sharin' feeling bad about maybe being mean that she didn't want him there. She's asking me if she was being mean, but I reassured her, I hope, that it's OK, I'm mean too. I'm on her side totally. He should have just slept in, as usual, and had a Dunkin Donuts morning like most of America. He is definitely on my list of Members We Can Do Without.
Exercising inside at the Y instead of outside where you should be in May, or encased in cement, you will have a white ass if you are as white as I am. But there are plenty of folk with nice tans from trips to FL (or in preparation for a trip to FL). Me, I'm going cheap. I hung around on the back porch today because it is absolutely lovely - sunny and warm - AND, with the new banks of overpowered fluorescent lighting in the pool, I am more than certain I can also work on my tan while I do laps. I've been told that the new lighting is part of a "green" initiative, but I think if the lighting is so bright I can see the color of my heartbeat that maybe they need to maybe pull out a few bulbs. FYI, all the original lights are lit, in addition to the new lights, so I can't see how exactly we are saving energy, but if we are I expect my membership dues will come down really soon.
Did you all see the news this week about the NJ Tanning Lady bringing her kid into a tanning salon with her??? No doubt she is going to die from skin cancer, so no need to put her in cement. Instead, for only $51.00/month, we can stretch out on a towel out on the pool deck at the Guilderland Y. Cheap, just the way I like it.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Eight
I'm grumpy. Can't I just stay that way? What's with all the cheery people at the gym early in the morning? I know Wonder Woman got her eight this morning. She's so friendly!
Thursday I just had to escape a busy pool. After 2000, 6:00 a.m., I towel dried, changed into running gear, and grabbed just the key to my car because I wanted to grab my ball cap on the way out. I left aside the remote opener since it won't fit in my fanny bag. Anyway, as I insert the key into the passenger side door, something I NEVER do, I discovered someone had busted my lock trying to break in, who knows when. LIKE IT NEED THIS. I ran fast, it was very cold, my hair was wet, it was really really windy, and I hardly felt a thing I was so punched up. Better than punching in a wall, I suppose.
Three days later I'm still grumpy. Here are some thoughts on what I should probably do:
EIGHT RULES FOR FEELING BETTER AND NOT BEING GRUMPY
Thursday I just had to escape a busy pool. After 2000, 6:00 a.m., I towel dried, changed into running gear, and grabbed just the key to my car because I wanted to grab my ball cap on the way out. I left aside the remote opener since it won't fit in my fanny bag. Anyway, as I insert the key into the passenger side door, something I NEVER do, I discovered someone had busted my lock trying to break in, who knows when. LIKE IT NEED THIS. I ran fast, it was very cold, my hair was wet, it was really really windy, and I hardly felt a thing I was so punched up. Better than punching in a wall, I suppose.
Three days later I'm still grumpy. Here are some thoughts on what I should probably do:
EIGHT RULES FOR FEELING BETTER AND NOT BEING GRUMPY
- Drink 8 glasses of water a day. Pee often. This also gives you extra breaks from your job, which, as a State worker, I can say with authority is the best way to goof off if the job is getting you down.
- Sleep 8 hours a night. If you can't because you are frustrated and unhappy, bash your head against a wall until you pass out.
- Eat 8 servings of fruit and vegetables every day. Wine is not a fruit.
- Detox for at least 8 days. No (1) alcohol, no (2) potential allergens like eggs or nuts or shellfish, no (3) red meat, no (4) refined sugar, no (5) wheat, no (6) caffeine, no (7) added salt, and definitely (8) nothing with the word "Doodle" in the name of the food product.
- Avoid mean people. If you can't, ignore them. If you can't, gossip about them, even if it's all lies.
- Do something fun, like take a walk along the river on a beautiful afternoon instead of sitting at your computer, like I'm doing right now. Lover Boy: shopping IS fun!
- Close your eyes and breath. Eight long deep breaths. Say "ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhmmmmmm" until your lips are buzzing.
- Go to the gym.
- You ignored your own advice again, drank more than you should have, and now you need to work off a hangover.
- You have no place else to go and anyway, you need a shower.
- You are awake and have been since three-thirty so you might as well get up and go.
- It's the only time you actually drink water instead of coffee and wine.
- You ate too much for dinner again last night and you need to work off what seems like 40,000 calories.
- You need to get in shape for some reason, whatever that is.
- You enjoy working out because you lack imagination.
- You are frustrated and you hope it might actually save you from yourself, and if you stay in bed you may never get up.
- More than 4 inches of fresh snow, whatever that is.
- You forgot to set the alarm. Actually, this is more of an excuse than a reason, but I'll accept it.
- Something hurts. I mean, it's probably been hurting for a while now and you've been ignoring it. But now it really hurts and maybe, just maybe, for once, you can take the day off from working out.
- You stayed up too late again last night watching something on TV, even if you can't remember what it was.
- You ate and drank too much last night and you honestly believe if Hurly Burly pulls you over this morning you might be DUI.
- You are really, really, really tired and you are afraid if you go to the gym you will die.
- Your partner is out of town and you have the whole bed to yourself, and no one is snoring or farting except you.
- Sleepy, fuzzy warm cats in the bed with you.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Try Athlon
I don't know who Athlon is, but if he's cute, I might want to try him on.
It's good to try new things, challenge yourself, struggle with a new goal. As far as I'm concerned, a Try Athlon has three segments: packing up my big girl work outfit for transport to the gym in the morning without forgetting anything, getting it on without putting a run in the hose and exiting the gym without the tags hanging out, and getting to work in record time after my workout looking halfway like the professional I pretend to be now that I'm no longer pretending to be a superhero working on big Try Ceps. But I don't know why I bother, because, when I get to the finish line (my office), no one at work notices when I come in and they really don't give a shit what I'm wearing, as long as I'm clean. Maybe they won't notice the coffee stain on the front of my white sweater, either.
This is what I think: the outfit should be practical, whether we are working or working out. It should fit well. It should show off our assets, and our asses only when they are very nice. It should NOT look affected, as if we spent alot of time thinking about what to wear, but it should look like we are at least trying, and it shouldn't smell. Work is important because we have bills to pay, like our Y membership, and there are always new clothes to buy. The workout itself is also important. It should fit your age and body type and interests well, and it should help you improve your assets, so you should always try a little bit harder if nothing hurts. However, I suggest you keep it personal, focused, and self contained. You always notice the dinks that are more interested in knowing if other people are noticing them or not, and that's when we notice their stupid outfit or that they are really overheated and close to stroke, and they smell. Best to lay low, if you know what I mean.
Our daily Try Athlon should NOT be confused with a Triathlon, which, according to Thunderthighs, consists primarily of gaining alot of weight, wearing really tight Spandex shorts and sports bras without a top, and cornering you in the locker room to tell you all about her "Try Training" for Pine Bush. Constantly - trying - again - to start - a conversation - all about her Try Training. I'm guessing she thinks it should be easier to impress a stupid middle aged lady than her peers, but I'm a gym rat and this is a LITTLE EVENT (325 Yard Lake Swim - 11.5 Mile Bike - 3.25 Mile Run), so I'm really NOT impressed. And having already had like 11.5 conversations with her about it already, I'm done with it. She is TRYING too hard.
I know we can all try a little harder, including me in the Try Not To Be Such a Bitch department. Even when I am nice, underneath there's this little devil just havin' the funniest conversation about what's going on around me.
It's good to try new things, challenge yourself, struggle with a new goal. As far as I'm concerned, a Try Athlon has three segments: packing up my big girl work outfit for transport to the gym in the morning without forgetting anything, getting it on without putting a run in the hose and exiting the gym without the tags hanging out, and getting to work in record time after my workout looking halfway like the professional I pretend to be now that I'm no longer pretending to be a superhero working on big Try Ceps. But I don't know why I bother, because, when I get to the finish line (my office), no one at work notices when I come in and they really don't give a shit what I'm wearing, as long as I'm clean. Maybe they won't notice the coffee stain on the front of my white sweater, either.
This is what I think: the outfit should be practical, whether we are working or working out. It should fit well. It should show off our assets, and our asses only when they are very nice. It should NOT look affected, as if we spent alot of time thinking about what to wear, but it should look like we are at least trying, and it shouldn't smell. Work is important because we have bills to pay, like our Y membership, and there are always new clothes to buy. The workout itself is also important. It should fit your age and body type and interests well, and it should help you improve your assets, so you should always try a little bit harder if nothing hurts. However, I suggest you keep it personal, focused, and self contained. You always notice the dinks that are more interested in knowing if other people are noticing them or not, and that's when we notice their stupid outfit or that they are really overheated and close to stroke, and they smell. Best to lay low, if you know what I mean.
Our daily Try Athlon should NOT be confused with a Triathlon, which, according to Thunderthighs, consists primarily of gaining alot of weight, wearing really tight Spandex shorts and sports bras without a top, and cornering you in the locker room to tell you all about her "Try Training" for Pine Bush. Constantly - trying - again - to start - a conversation - all about her Try Training. I'm guessing she thinks it should be easier to impress a stupid middle aged lady than her peers, but I'm a gym rat and this is a LITTLE EVENT (325 Yard Lake Swim - 11.5 Mile Bike - 3.25 Mile Run), so I'm really NOT impressed. And having already had like 11.5 conversations with her about it already, I'm done with it. She is TRYING too hard.
I know we can all try a little harder, including me in the Try Not To Be Such a Bitch department. Even when I am nice, underneath there's this little devil just havin' the funniest conversation about what's going on around me.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Emergency Preparedness
You never know when life will throw you for a loop, or a friend will throw you a lifeline. Shit happens, so let's all do our best to BE PREPARED.
T.L.B. is having weird dreams. Good to know I'm not the only one. Her house alarm went off in the middle of the night a few days ago and she confessed: GRAB GYM BAG AND HARD BOILED EGG AND ESCAPE. She is well prepared for emergencies, because she knew enough to know that her gym bag had almost everything she needed to survive, except the snack. Selfish me forgot to offer her shelter in the event that something really bad had happened.
The Goddess had a tampon emergency but she was well prepared, almost, because she at least had a quarter for the vending machine, which jammed (what a surprise), leaving her to reach out to all us early morning 50+ women hoping one of us might actually still have a tampon, despite our age. I was also well prepared , having said item handy and willing to give, a pleasure, really, since she wanted to swim and the stupid vending machine was only giving her sanitary napkins, which, as you may know, are NOT useful inside a swim suit unless you are only sunbathing. I hope her day only got better. Too bad I didn't have a tweezer handy to retrieve the quarter.
Speaking of weird dreams, pool dreams are a recurring theme for me. The other night I had a dream with Sharin' in it. She was sitting upright in a large paper bag in a bright red swim suit wearing shiny red high healed shoes, singing out that her old man had left her but she got to keep the shoes, and everyone in the pool stopped and cheered and clapped their hands. Very weird, but the point is, if he's going to leave you be sure you keep possession of the things that matter most, and let your friends know if you need some love. What you get to keep might be just your sanity, but a cool pair of red heels could come in very handy in an emergency. FYI, Sharin', you were BEAUTIFUL.
OK just to keep on target, here is a short list of things you should always have with you when leave for the Y:
I carry an oversize gym bag with about everything I need in it to survive a nuclear attack, except, of course, just a stupid bandaid, which I had to beg off the fitness center earlier this week to protect a nice 3rd degree burn on the back of my left hand that I got fishing toast out of the toaster oven. The members are great, so are the staff. The G. Y is, as always, a great place to be.
T.L.B. is having weird dreams. Good to know I'm not the only one. Her house alarm went off in the middle of the night a few days ago and she confessed: GRAB GYM BAG AND HARD BOILED EGG AND ESCAPE. She is well prepared for emergencies, because she knew enough to know that her gym bag had almost everything she needed to survive, except the snack. Selfish me forgot to offer her shelter in the event that something really bad had happened.
The Goddess had a tampon emergency but she was well prepared, almost, because she at least had a quarter for the vending machine, which jammed (what a surprise), leaving her to reach out to all us early morning 50+ women hoping one of us might actually still have a tampon, despite our age. I was also well prepared , having said item handy and willing to give, a pleasure, really, since she wanted to swim and the stupid vending machine was only giving her sanitary napkins, which, as you may know, are NOT useful inside a swim suit unless you are only sunbathing. I hope her day only got better. Too bad I didn't have a tweezer handy to retrieve the quarter.
Speaking of weird dreams, pool dreams are a recurring theme for me. The other night I had a dream with Sharin' in it. She was sitting upright in a large paper bag in a bright red swim suit wearing shiny red high healed shoes, singing out that her old man had left her but she got to keep the shoes, and everyone in the pool stopped and cheered and clapped their hands. Very weird, but the point is, if he's going to leave you be sure you keep possession of the things that matter most, and let your friends know if you need some love. What you get to keep might be just your sanity, but a cool pair of red heels could come in very handy in an emergency. FYI, Sharin', you were BEAUTIFUL.
OK just to keep on target, here is a short list of things you should always have with you when leave for the Y:
- Keys
- Lock
- Chapstick/lipgloss
- Money
- Water bottle. With water in it so you don't have to fill the bottle from water fountains with pink moldy germy slime on them, which Puppy Sweet Cheeks has also noted recently in response to my earlier blog about pink things. Pink is cute but not on the waterfountain, and no, pink lipgloss on the rim of my bottle will not protect me.
I carry an oversize gym bag with about everything I need in it to survive a nuclear attack, except, of course, just a stupid bandaid, which I had to beg off the fitness center earlier this week to protect a nice 3rd degree burn on the back of my left hand that I got fishing toast out of the toaster oven. The members are great, so are the staff. The G. Y is, as always, a great place to be.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Take a Number
The pool was really crowded last Monday, 4/2/2012. Instead of swimming circles those of us already in the water did a really excellent job of ignoring those left waiting, intently swimming up and down without a glance upward. Yeah, boys, take a number, 'cause YOU slept in, heh heh heh.
We stacked up Bachelor No. 1, Bachelor No. 2, and Bachelor No. 3. It was hard to pick a favorite because they all looked alike, sitting on the bench, slumped over, trying to look cool instead of irritated that no one would let them in. They were all wearing identical black jammers - isn't that expressive? But NO one would get in with D.G., whose pool name, FYI, is D.G. He is Mayor of Lane 8. He insists on swimming with paddles even when there is someone in the lane with him. I'm sure he is thinking that maybe they'll leave. I say he's just plain weird. He gets visibly irritated if he has to share, which happened just a couple of weeks ago when a lady joined him on the wall. When T.B.B. asked how he was, he said "Not so good", and when asked why, he explained that it was his "butterfly day". He was like so freaked out to have someone mess with his routine and invade "his" space, and he butterflied anyway, which also makes him an asshole.
So now we're taking bets on Batman versus Stefanaki. S got all the way to the pool this morning, feet in the water, then up and left. I find out later that he is in a feud with Batman and it seems the Bat is winning because S left the facility altogether and swore he wasn't coming back. I always figured, like me, he'd be thrown out before he quit. However, I'm happy to have the free lane because I am selfish and petty, but even money says he'll be back. He's a pool gym junkie, and besides, I'm pretty sure he's already worn out his welcome at most of the other facilities in the city.
I'm doing my best to bring down my blood pressure: I don't like the high numbers, they scare me. Gumdrop is helping by teaching me a little meditation, and it might work if I could just ignore the fact that I'm menapausal. SO - take three deep breaths, countdown from 10, close your eyes, relax, dream of a real butterfly day with big flowers and bugs and blue skies and puff puff clouds, be at one with the chlorine, accept who you are and love others for who they are are, even if they are assholes.
Yes, I bitch, therefore I am. But I'm taking a number and I hope it isn't up anytime soon.
We stacked up Bachelor No. 1, Bachelor No. 2, and Bachelor No. 3. It was hard to pick a favorite because they all looked alike, sitting on the bench, slumped over, trying to look cool instead of irritated that no one would let them in. They were all wearing identical black jammers - isn't that expressive? But NO one would get in with D.G., whose pool name, FYI, is D.G. He is Mayor of Lane 8. He insists on swimming with paddles even when there is someone in the lane with him. I'm sure he is thinking that maybe they'll leave. I say he's just plain weird. He gets visibly irritated if he has to share, which happened just a couple of weeks ago when a lady joined him on the wall. When T.B.B. asked how he was, he said "Not so good", and when asked why, he explained that it was his "butterfly day". He was like so freaked out to have someone mess with his routine and invade "his" space, and he butterflied anyway, which also makes him an asshole.
So now we're taking bets on Batman versus Stefanaki. S got all the way to the pool this morning, feet in the water, then up and left. I find out later that he is in a feud with Batman and it seems the Bat is winning because S left the facility altogether and swore he wasn't coming back. I always figured, like me, he'd be thrown out before he quit. However, I'm happy to have the free lane because I am selfish and petty, but even money says he'll be back. He's a pool gym junkie, and besides, I'm pretty sure he's already worn out his welcome at most of the other facilities in the city.
I'm doing my best to bring down my blood pressure: I don't like the high numbers, they scare me. Gumdrop is helping by teaching me a little meditation, and it might work if I could just ignore the fact that I'm menapausal. SO - take three deep breaths, countdown from 10, close your eyes, relax, dream of a real butterfly day with big flowers and bugs and blue skies and puff puff clouds, be at one with the chlorine, accept who you are and love others for who they are are, even if they are assholes.
Yes, I bitch, therefore I am. But I'm taking a number and I hope it isn't up anytime soon.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Leave No Trace
After a run on the treadmill, all sweaty and red faced, I sit on a bench for a moment, ready to do some free weights, and put on my lifting gloves. When I stand up I notice I've left a butt-print from my wet compression shorts. Think of it as a sort of heart-shaped heinie smile.
I wipe it down with my sweaty towel, then try to disguise my trace with a water bottle and my little yellow mesh bag (containing one stretching band, lip gloss, comb, extra hair tie, and some gum just in case last night's garlic is still kickin') in the hopes that no one will push into my space. This is very territorial of me, for sure.
As fodder for the gossip circuit, I coat myself in viteeyum E oil before I workout so my skin shines and looks healthier than it really is. It also smells nicer than B.O., FYI. After I do my weight lifting circuit I always leave time for some mat work to stretch, do some abs, and basically crap out because by then I'm wiped. And for sure I have to wipe the mat down, too, because I've left my oily mark and it would just be nasty to let the next dude slide around in my goo. The paper towel always comes up filthy, which is NOT me. Ask me why I don't clean it before I start.
Which leads me to today's heading, "Leave No Trace." Counter to popular opinion that I'm some sort of total gym bitch, I was a GOOD Girl Scout from the age of 5 to 18; this mantra was very much a part of our G.S. party outings. So let me offer up a few hot tips:
Don't just wipe down the spinning bike. Please wipe up the floor where you left a puddle of sweat for the next person to wipe out on.
Please put your toys/equipment away when you are done. I HATE walkin' around looking for the orange medicine ball or a blue flex band or the 15 pound weights.
Please put your garbage in the waste receptacles provided. The bottom of a locker is NOT a receptacle.
If you are female and you pee after leaving the pool please dry off the seat when you are done.
If you weigh yourself after you pee after leaving the pool please also dry off the scale when you are done.
If you comb out your hair in the shower please do not decorate the walls of the shower stall with it. This is just disgusting.
The Y starts out clean and I know that staff there work hard to keep it that way, so I would appreciate everyone's cooperation. I like my toilet water blue and I don't like my water fountains pink. So what is the pink in the ladies' showers these days??? I wonder if there is an equivalent contaminant on the men's. I hope it isn't pink.
Speaking of heinies, today Lover Boy got two. Lucky man.
xxx
I wipe it down with my sweaty towel, then try to disguise my trace with a water bottle and my little yellow mesh bag (containing one stretching band, lip gloss, comb, extra hair tie, and some gum just in case last night's garlic is still kickin') in the hopes that no one will push into my space. This is very territorial of me, for sure.
As fodder for the gossip circuit, I coat myself in viteeyum E oil before I workout so my skin shines and looks healthier than it really is. It also smells nicer than B.O., FYI. After I do my weight lifting circuit I always leave time for some mat work to stretch, do some abs, and basically crap out because by then I'm wiped. And for sure I have to wipe the mat down, too, because I've left my oily mark and it would just be nasty to let the next dude slide around in my goo. The paper towel always comes up filthy, which is NOT me. Ask me why I don't clean it before I start.
Which leads me to today's heading, "Leave No Trace." Counter to popular opinion that I'm some sort of total gym bitch, I was a GOOD Girl Scout from the age of 5 to 18; this mantra was very much a part of our G.S. party outings. So let me offer up a few hot tips:
Don't just wipe down the spinning bike. Please wipe up the floor where you left a puddle of sweat for the next person to wipe out on.
Please put your toys/equipment away when you are done. I HATE walkin' around looking for the orange medicine ball or a blue flex band or the 15 pound weights.
Please put your garbage in the waste receptacles provided. The bottom of a locker is NOT a receptacle.
If you are female and you pee after leaving the pool please dry off the seat when you are done.
If you weigh yourself after you pee after leaving the pool please also dry off the scale when you are done.
If you comb out your hair in the shower please do not decorate the walls of the shower stall with it. This is just disgusting.
The Y starts out clean and I know that staff there work hard to keep it that way, so I would appreciate everyone's cooperation. I like my toilet water blue and I don't like my water fountains pink. So what is the pink in the ladies' showers these days??? I wonder if there is an equivalent contaminant on the men's. I hope it isn't pink.
Speaking of heinies, today Lover Boy got two. Lucky man.
xxx
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Make a Wish
Today, as he blew out the candles on his ice cream, Poobah probably wished he wasn't an old man. I'm sure he's glad he didn't suddenly turn into an old woman (son of a...).
Thirty of us, mostly gym junkies, turned out to celebrate Poobah's 94th birthday. It was great to see him all smiles. Stitch, too, and she was looking her best until we messed up her lipstick. I know they just loved seeing us, too, and we were all clean and dry and dressed up nice for a change. We even smelled pretty.
Little Bug wished for a gluten free dessert and her wish came true, so I have it now on good authority that telling others what you wish for does not jinx the outcome. So here I go:
And I wish love to all of you. Poobah's party was SO much fun and you all behaved yourselves. So did I, for a change. xxx
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, POOBAH!!!
Thirty of us, mostly gym junkies, turned out to celebrate Poobah's 94th birthday. It was great to see him all smiles. Stitch, too, and she was looking her best until we messed up her lipstick. I know they just loved seeing us, too, and we were all clean and dry and dressed up nice for a change. We even smelled pretty.
Little Bug wished for a gluten free dessert and her wish came true, so I have it now on good authority that telling others what you wish for does not jinx the outcome. So here I go:
- I wish we could do this more often - you know, get together and hug without having to apologize for being stinky and sweaty.
- I wish that I could eat pastry every day and not turn into a nerf ball.
- I wish everyone could just lose five pounds so we can all shut up about it.
- I wish I could wear cotton panties under my compression shorts without my ass looking lumpy.
- I wish that winter was really behind us and that spring will stay, because my tulips are blooming already and because winter, even a mild one, sucks.
- I wish I didn't get a sunburn everytime I linger on the back porch when the weather first turns lovely in springtime, but then again, I'm white and I have a white ass so I shouldn't expect otherwise.
- I wish I didn't have to have a mammogram (but I'm glad I've got tits).
- I wish my progressive lenses had the distance vision on the bottom instead of the top, so I could hold my head up and see where I'm going and at the same time disguise my crepey neck.
- I wish I could find my purple scarf and the other purple leather glove, since I only wore them out one night, to a bar, and I can't remember seeing them since, but this, I think, is just wishful thinking.
And I wish love to all of you. Poobah's party was SO much fun and you all behaved yourselves. So did I, for a change. xxx
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, POOBAH!!!
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Being Regular
Sure, there's nothing that feels quite as good as having a good shit, or being a good shit, but that's another blog altogether.
Today I want to explore the idea of being regular, or shall we say "being a regular", at the Y, in particular those of us who start our day there almost every day. We get up, get out, drive too fast in the dark, press our way in the front door, load our lockers, workout, shower, get ready for work, then commute to our respective paid positions without once coming to the realization that we actually did all that and didn't wake up. No, this lack of focus is not exactly getting us in shape for a swim across the English Channel, but still, we are "regular", which is a good thing.
Until something is amiss. And, as regulars, we notice the little things. We are a veritable fountain of useless knowledge about the way things work, should work, used to work, don't work, or never worked.
How many of you noticed, like Spinney, that the water cooler in the main hallway downstairs is alot warmer than the one upstairs??? How many of you ladies had a shower when you turned on the tap in sink #1 this week??? How many of you ladies stood in your own filth when shower stall #2 wasn't draining for a few days???
How many of you would like three lifeguards on the morning shift??? How many of you would like a vending machine for things you forgot, like deoderant or a razor??? How many of you think there should be blue emergency phones in the locker rooms??? How many of you think there should be informational posters in the fitness center on how to use the equipment???
How many of you remember when we could reposition the jets in the hot tub??? How many of you remember when the soap wasn't foamy??? How many of you remember when we could get hot water in the ladies shower stall #1??? How many of you would like candy bars in the vending machines in the lobby again???
Yes, I know, all this is little stuff and really stupid. The problem is we NOTICE, and unless WE TELL SOMEONE the powers that be may not know that things aren't working. So we must take it upon ourselves, as responsible members, to COMPLAIN/SUGGEST/INFORM/REQUEST/PROPOSE/RECOMMEND/ADVISE/BITCH (circle one), because chances are the irregulars won't and nothing would ever get done.
OK Lover Boy I admit I got a bit PISSED this morning when Coach closed down two of our lanes at 8:06 a.m. in the pool so the triathletes (most of which needed to lose 25 pounds, FYI, and they are NOT swimming the English Channel either) could do a practice run for next Sunday's indoor event. Coach tried to say they do this every Sunday but, as a Regular, I KNEW BETTER. What is so difficult about putting up a sign to inform the PAID MEMBERS that something is going to change that they may not like??? The place is so disorganized even the lifeguards didn't know what was going on (not that they do, as a rule). FYI, I like Backfloat Bob best when he takes up the cause.
So sometimes I'm a little shit that gets peeved by bullshit and even though Lover Boy says try not to give a shit I guess that's what makes him cool and me S.L.B. And thank you, Lover Boy, for swimming with Curry the Nitwit for me when they shut the lanes down. I appreciate it. I owe you 2 beers, at least, for that little favor.
Today I want to explore the idea of being regular, or shall we say "being a regular", at the Y, in particular those of us who start our day there almost every day. We get up, get out, drive too fast in the dark, press our way in the front door, load our lockers, workout, shower, get ready for work, then commute to our respective paid positions without once coming to the realization that we actually did all that and didn't wake up. No, this lack of focus is not exactly getting us in shape for a swim across the English Channel, but still, we are "regular", which is a good thing.
Until something is amiss. And, as regulars, we notice the little things. We are a veritable fountain of useless knowledge about the way things work, should work, used to work, don't work, or never worked.
How many of you noticed, like Spinney, that the water cooler in the main hallway downstairs is alot warmer than the one upstairs??? How many of you ladies had a shower when you turned on the tap in sink #1 this week??? How many of you ladies stood in your own filth when shower stall #2 wasn't draining for a few days???
How many of you would like three lifeguards on the morning shift??? How many of you would like a vending machine for things you forgot, like deoderant or a razor??? How many of you think there should be blue emergency phones in the locker rooms??? How many of you think there should be informational posters in the fitness center on how to use the equipment???
How many of you remember when we could reposition the jets in the hot tub??? How many of you remember when the soap wasn't foamy??? How many of you remember when we could get hot water in the ladies shower stall #1??? How many of you would like candy bars in the vending machines in the lobby again???
Yes, I know, all this is little stuff and really stupid. The problem is we NOTICE, and unless WE TELL SOMEONE the powers that be may not know that things aren't working. So we must take it upon ourselves, as responsible members, to COMPLAIN/SUGGEST/INFORM/REQUEST/PROPOSE/RECOMMEND/ADVISE/BITCH (circle one), because chances are the irregulars won't and nothing would ever get done.
OK Lover Boy I admit I got a bit PISSED this morning when Coach closed down two of our lanes at 8:06 a.m. in the pool so the triathletes (most of which needed to lose 25 pounds, FYI, and they are NOT swimming the English Channel either) could do a practice run for next Sunday's indoor event. Coach tried to say they do this every Sunday but, as a Regular, I KNEW BETTER. What is so difficult about putting up a sign to inform the PAID MEMBERS that something is going to change that they may not like??? The place is so disorganized even the lifeguards didn't know what was going on (not that they do, as a rule). FYI, I like Backfloat Bob best when he takes up the cause.
So sometimes I'm a little shit that gets peeved by bullshit and even though Lover Boy says try not to give a shit I guess that's what makes him cool and me S.L.B. And thank you, Lover Boy, for swimming with Curry the Nitwit for me when they shut the lanes down. I appreciate it. I owe you 2 beers, at least, for that little favor.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Funk
I have 1753 songs, good for 5.1 days, taking up 10.94 GB of storage space in my music library. Why, then, does it seem like I'm listening to the same songs over and over again???
BECAUSE I AM. I have three shuffles that I use when I work out. Each one is a different color, with different tunes, that I choose from depending on my outfit, my workout, my mood, and whether or not it's working because I'm constantly forgetting to turn the stupid things off and running the batteries down.
According to my math, which is NOT reliable, I should have enough music to keep me mildly entertained for 48.96 workouts. That leaves 263.04 workouts/year when I'm listening to repeats. When I get to a point where all I'm doing is flipping through tunes until I get one that doesn't annoy me it's time to do something crazy. Like download Rihanna's latest album Talk Talk Talk.
Which I did. It's got a good beat, very funky, but the lyrics are totally teenage dork.
I always wonder what everyone else is listening to except for Buttface. She looks like she sleeps in her car. She listens to hip hop, REALLY LOUD, so I'm giving her a break because she must at least wish she was cool. One never knows what lurks inside those earbuds and other people's brains.
When I'm feeling kind of funky, and need a good workout so I can also smell funky like the teenagers that stalk the place on weekends, there's nothing like a few funkadelic tunes to get me going, but I'm definitely in a music funk.
OK yes, so I'll keep surfing and spending money on MP3s. What do YOU listen to? Any good suggestions???????????????????????????? HELP!!!
BECAUSE I AM. I have three shuffles that I use when I work out. Each one is a different color, with different tunes, that I choose from depending on my outfit, my workout, my mood, and whether or not it's working because I'm constantly forgetting to turn the stupid things off and running the batteries down.
According to my math, which is NOT reliable, I should have enough music to keep me mildly entertained for 48.96 workouts. That leaves 263.04 workouts/year when I'm listening to repeats. When I get to a point where all I'm doing is flipping through tunes until I get one that doesn't annoy me it's time to do something crazy. Like download Rihanna's latest album Talk Talk Talk.
Which I did. It's got a good beat, very funky, but the lyrics are totally teenage dork.
I always wonder what everyone else is listening to except for Buttface. She looks like she sleeps in her car. She listens to hip hop, REALLY LOUD, so I'm giving her a break because she must at least wish she was cool. One never knows what lurks inside those earbuds and other people's brains.
When I'm feeling kind of funky, and need a good workout so I can also smell funky like the teenagers that stalk the place on weekends, there's nothing like a few funkadelic tunes to get me going, but I'm definitely in a music funk.
OK yes, so I'll keep surfing and spending money on MP3s. What do YOU listen to? Any good suggestions???????????????????????????? HELP!!!
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Doing Squat
Batman flies past me on the road again this week, in a bigger hurry than I am to get to the Y, where we will both arrive at least 5 minutes before it opens just to sit in the parking lot and listen to really loud music. Batman parks in handicap parking, finishes his smoke, then sits in the hot tub for an hour.
This is not a workout. THIS is called "doing squat".
Not to be confused with doing squats, which I've discovered are one of the best all around moves to help tone your body. If you do them right, your calves, hamstrings and gluteus maximus will be tight and toned, your core will get a workout, balance will improve and hormones will be released to help you build muscle.
Now I'm pretty sure it's the hormones that I'm liking because, to be honest, I always hated doing squats. Instead, I'm trying to get into it by humoring myself at the same time. Here are a few tips on doing them right and sticking to it so you get all the benefits without hurting yourself.
Now that you have the basic move down pat let's make it even MORE fun:
BONUS MOVE: If you put your fists on your waist and flap your arms at the same time you are doing squats it's REALLY fun if you can keep a straight face. Guaranteed to freak out nearby weirdos.
After 6 days you get a day off to do squat. Enjoy.
See you tomorrow!!!
This is not a workout. THIS is called "doing squat".
Not to be confused with doing squats, which I've discovered are one of the best all around moves to help tone your body. If you do them right, your calves, hamstrings and gluteus maximus will be tight and toned, your core will get a workout, balance will improve and hormones will be released to help you build muscle.
Now I'm pretty sure it's the hormones that I'm liking because, to be honest, I always hated doing squats. Instead, I'm trying to get into it by humoring myself at the same time. Here are a few tips on doing them right and sticking to it so you get all the benefits without hurting yourself.
Do not perform squats if you have lower body injuries or lower back problems. Instead, go to Denny's and use the toilet without actually sitting down, which I highly recommend. Same exercise. Go more than once to get maximum benefit.
Stand with your legs just hip width apart, which, ladies, is about a fist width, not a foot or more. Keep your knees loose and your back straight. You look good, which will change in a moment when you start actually doing the squat, because I think they make you look foolish and rude.
Press your weight into your heels as you lower yourself, aiming to get your thighs as close to 90 degrees as possible, and making sure your knees don't project forward of your ankles. Listen to your ankles crack and try to stand up straight again without cracking up at the fact that you are pushing your heinie out at everyone behind you.
If you DID manage to stand up straight without throwing out your back, repeat 10 times. Sit down and try to look like what you just did was effortless. Text message a friend or tweet.
Now that you have the basic move down pat let's make it even MORE fun:
Add more weight. Use the Smith Machine or use barbells across your shoulders, or even held close to your chest. Grunt loudly at every opportunity. This helps build attitude as well as muscle. Do not use the Smith Machine if you don't know how to put the weights away when you're done.
Do plie squats holding a heavy weight at arms length down in front of you. This looks really strange and should get you at least a few sideways glances. Wink at yourself and try not to laugh.
Plie squat, then, at your lowest point, lift yourself up onto your toes and hold it for 10 seconds. Ow ow ow ow ow! (are we having fun yet???)
Hold the squat at the bottom for a count of 10. Try to stand up. Listen to your knees crack. If they both crack drink some water. Repeat.
Do squats with a ball against the wall, with or without weights, regular and plie. Try doing this on one leg. You now look like a squawking bird, which you will be tomorrow when you try to walk up stairs.
BONUS MOVE: If you put your fists on your waist and flap your arms at the same time you are doing squats it's REALLY fun if you can keep a straight face. Guaranteed to freak out nearby weirdos.
After 6 days you get a day off to do squat. Enjoy.
See you tomorrow!!!
Saturday, February 25, 2012
What's New???
I'm back at the Y catching up on the gossip and trying to catch my breath again after fighting this cold for the past week or more. Sometimes I'm speechless.
Not because I'm shocked by what I hear! Oh no, this blog and the gossip aren't THAT good. It's just that my brain is still addled and my nose is still stuffed, so my response to most things is to stare at people with my mouth hanging open wishing I had a tissue. It's VERY attractive.
But the sales are good so the gals have been showing up with new clothes - always fun to show off and brag about all the money we saved spending money! I got a great new pair of Pikolino boots at Little Bug's inventory sale last week. I LOVE them, they are very cool, and they take attention away from my head so my red nose is less obvious. I also went to Penny's on Friday and they had coats on sale for $10.00. BUY TWO. I did. Blue Towel was showing off pants from Talbot's Outlet - $10.00 each. BUY TWO. She did. But the best was Puppy Sweet Cheek's new Genie Bra, which she modeled for us very professionally in the locker room this week. $10.00 at WalMart. Too bad she had to cover it with a shirt. It was soft and lovely. Yes, boys, DROOL. The ladies can stare at each other's chests without even thinking there might be tits under there.
I've set the bar pretty low this week as far as my workouts are concerned. I tried my first jog on the dreadmill on Thursday and all I could think was "WOW nothing hurts." Not "WOW what a great run." Maybe my bod needed a break. But I'm getting stronger and I actually had a nice converation with Tinkerbell this morning, including words and everything. We are both looking forward to biking outside again. And it won't be long. My tulips are starting to come up in the garden. Spring is coming and everything will feel new again, and I look forward to actually being able to smell the roses.
Not because I'm shocked by what I hear! Oh no, this blog and the gossip aren't THAT good. It's just that my brain is still addled and my nose is still stuffed, so my response to most things is to stare at people with my mouth hanging open wishing I had a tissue. It's VERY attractive.
But the sales are good so the gals have been showing up with new clothes - always fun to show off and brag about all the money we saved spending money! I got a great new pair of Pikolino boots at Little Bug's inventory sale last week. I LOVE them, they are very cool, and they take attention away from my head so my red nose is less obvious. I also went to Penny's on Friday and they had coats on sale for $10.00. BUY TWO. I did. Blue Towel was showing off pants from Talbot's Outlet - $10.00 each. BUY TWO. She did. But the best was Puppy Sweet Cheek's new Genie Bra, which she modeled for us very professionally in the locker room this week. $10.00 at WalMart. Too bad she had to cover it with a shirt. It was soft and lovely. Yes, boys, DROOL. The ladies can stare at each other's chests without even thinking there might be tits under there.
I've set the bar pretty low this week as far as my workouts are concerned. I tried my first jog on the dreadmill on Thursday and all I could think was "WOW nothing hurts." Not "WOW what a great run." Maybe my bod needed a break. But I'm getting stronger and I actually had a nice converation with Tinkerbell this morning, including words and everything. We are both looking forward to biking outside again. And it won't be long. My tulips are starting to come up in the garden. Spring is coming and everything will feel new again, and I look forward to actually being able to smell the roses.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Bugs
I've been sick since early last week fighting a stupid cold/sinus infection. I can't remember smooching Wonder Woman, but I'm pretty sure I have the same bug she had.
There are guidelines about not sharing bugs at the Y, which is where I no doubt picked this one up, since I have no place else to go.
Here are just a few:
1. Cover your nose when you sneeze or cough. Then wash your hands or use that antibacterial goo conveniently located throughout the building. I mentioned to Captain Underpants in the hot tub a few weeks ago that he had a big booger hanging out of his nose. He thanked me, wiped it off and then rinsed his hand off in the water. I said "Yuck" - then qualified my comment with "What are friends for???" I think he likes me now.
2. Stay out of the pool if you are sick. Note this is just a guideline. Not blowing spit and snot into the pool are RULES, something I am sure to find a chance to point out to The Spitter someday soon because apparently pointing out this sort of transgression comes easily to a bitch like me.
3. Wash your hands after you use the loo. There's one older lady who always wears her swimming gloves when she pees. Does she use T.P.??? I wonder. Yuck just thinking about it.
4. Wipe down the machines before and after use. According to my sources apparently Number 1 did NOT wipe down his treadmill yesterday after working up a good sweat. Yuck again.
5. Wipe down the mats AND the stability ball after use, especially if you are sneezing and coughing or you've had the ball between your legs. One guy jumped onto my mat yesterday when I went to put equipment away between sets. If he gets my cold tough noogies. He could have used the other mat which did NOT have my territorial markers sitting on it (read: water bottle, yellow bag, stretching band, towel, etc.).
I missed a few days of work and workouts but I was back this weekend doing my best to burn off a few calories and work out the kinks without falling over. I think I'm feeling better but Wonder Woman did point out that it could be a couple of weeks before I kick this bug completely. NOTE TO SELF: Invest in Kleenex.
But I am doing my best to keep my symptoms under control so I wouldn't be shunned by others just as concerned with bugs as I can be (although maybe if I did some horking I'd get a bit more room in front of the mirrors when I'm lifting weights).
FYI: I will be taking a few more days off before I get back into swimming. You're welcome.
There are guidelines about not sharing bugs at the Y, which is where I no doubt picked this one up, since I have no place else to go.
Here are just a few:
1. Cover your nose when you sneeze or cough. Then wash your hands or use that antibacterial goo conveniently located throughout the building. I mentioned to Captain Underpants in the hot tub a few weeks ago that he had a big booger hanging out of his nose. He thanked me, wiped it off and then rinsed his hand off in the water. I said "Yuck" - then qualified my comment with "What are friends for???" I think he likes me now.
2. Stay out of the pool if you are sick. Note this is just a guideline. Not blowing spit and snot into the pool are RULES, something I am sure to find a chance to point out to The Spitter someday soon because apparently pointing out this sort of transgression comes easily to a bitch like me.
3. Wash your hands after you use the loo. There's one older lady who always wears her swimming gloves when she pees. Does she use T.P.??? I wonder. Yuck just thinking about it.
4. Wipe down the machines before and after use. According to my sources apparently Number 1 did NOT wipe down his treadmill yesterday after working up a good sweat. Yuck again.
5. Wipe down the mats AND the stability ball after use, especially if you are sneezing and coughing or you've had the ball between your legs. One guy jumped onto my mat yesterday when I went to put equipment away between sets. If he gets my cold tough noogies. He could have used the other mat which did NOT have my territorial markers sitting on it (read: water bottle, yellow bag, stretching band, towel, etc.).
I missed a few days of work and workouts but I was back this weekend doing my best to burn off a few calories and work out the kinks without falling over. I think I'm feeling better but Wonder Woman did point out that it could be a couple of weeks before I kick this bug completely. NOTE TO SELF: Invest in Kleenex.
But I am doing my best to keep my symptoms under control so I wouldn't be shunned by others just as concerned with bugs as I can be (although maybe if I did some horking I'd get a bit more room in front of the mirrors when I'm lifting weights).
FYI: I will be taking a few more days off before I get back into swimming. You're welcome.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Sexercise
Anything with the word "sex" in it is bound to up my page views this week.
So I read this crazy article about a sexpert at Indiana University describing women as having exercise induced orgasms. Spinning bikes, the Princess Chair, and chin-ups bars were cited as the most common (and soon to be the most popular) pieces of equipment for women to get off on. Next time you see me doing 50 crunches you might even guess I'm trying for a "coregasm".
NOT. In all my years of over the top workouts I have always enjoyed myself, but not that much. It's more likely that many of us 5:00 a.m. gals are staying away from what's home in bed, and wearing ourselves out so we have an excuse for later. However, if you hear me moan it may be pleasure for a change, not the usual back spasm or knee tweak or shoulder ache. If you hear ANY woman moan during her workout, from now on, I suggest that you NOT ask if everything's okay. You may get an answer you really don't want to hear.
Today the pool was really busy. I got to swim alone for awhile (pleasure there), but I had to share my lane through most of the rest of my 80 laps. At least we didn't have to do circles (although that might be a turn on, who knows). Anyway, I described myself to Sharin' as a "pool slut", because I had had multiple partners (five? six? but who's counting) during the time I was swimming. None of them were even cute like the guy that got in next to the wall with her.
We work out for any number of reasons: to look good, to feel good, to keep from turning into a blotto, to have fun, to feel better about life, and to get the workout buzz. We may also be working out because we can't sleep, we're stressed to the max, our partners are just a constant piss-off, we have no friends and no life, and we are turning into zombies so we just get up in the morning and go because we need brains.
Some come to the gym mostly to socialize and Won't Shut Up. I think in the two hours I was in the pool Stefanaki did 5 laps because he was yakking up anyone that would listen, and I didn't want to. I finally said: "I'm a Librarian. Do I need to shush your ass???" (I did, but I didn't). I changed lanes for yet another partner.
But then I got the lane to myself again as I finished up, which felt good. Nothing over the top, nope, no chlorine scented, bubbly, half naked, wild wet sensations there, just the usual happy tired now I'm starved kind of high. Uh, starved for food, that is. Don't get any funny ideas.
So I read this crazy article about a sexpert at Indiana University describing women as having exercise induced orgasms. Spinning bikes, the Princess Chair, and chin-ups bars were cited as the most common (and soon to be the most popular) pieces of equipment for women to get off on. Next time you see me doing 50 crunches you might even guess I'm trying for a "coregasm".
NOT. In all my years of over the top workouts I have always enjoyed myself, but not that much. It's more likely that many of us 5:00 a.m. gals are staying away from what's home in bed, and wearing ourselves out so we have an excuse for later. However, if you hear me moan it may be pleasure for a change, not the usual back spasm or knee tweak or shoulder ache. If you hear ANY woman moan during her workout, from now on, I suggest that you NOT ask if everything's okay. You may get an answer you really don't want to hear.
Today the pool was really busy. I got to swim alone for awhile (pleasure there), but I had to share my lane through most of the rest of my 80 laps. At least we didn't have to do circles (although that might be a turn on, who knows). Anyway, I described myself to Sharin' as a "pool slut", because I had had multiple partners (five? six? but who's counting) during the time I was swimming. None of them were even cute like the guy that got in next to the wall with her.
We work out for any number of reasons: to look good, to feel good, to keep from turning into a blotto, to have fun, to feel better about life, and to get the workout buzz. We may also be working out because we can't sleep, we're stressed to the max, our partners are just a constant piss-off, we have no friends and no life, and we are turning into zombies so we just get up in the morning and go because we need brains.
Some come to the gym mostly to socialize and Won't Shut Up. I think in the two hours I was in the pool Stefanaki did 5 laps because he was yakking up anyone that would listen, and I didn't want to. I finally said: "I'm a Librarian. Do I need to shush your ass???" (I did, but I didn't). I changed lanes for yet another partner.
But then I got the lane to myself again as I finished up, which felt good. Nothing over the top, nope, no chlorine scented, bubbly, half naked, wild wet sensations there, just the usual happy tired now I'm starved kind of high. Uh, starved for food, that is. Don't get any funny ideas.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Repeat
According to recent research from Columbia University, active, educated women are drinking more than ever. Three out of three girlgymjunkies agree.
We also agree that we would probably lose the weight we want to lose in record time if we didn't actually NEED those drinks. ROUTINE: I start at 5:00 a.m. and work out for at least two hours in a race against time (surely I'm not as old as I look), work all day M-F (doing all that I can to prove my worth and stay ahead of the curve - no stress there!), without a banana break like Evil Lifeguard seems to need every 1.25 hours or so, walk back out to my car, strip off the bra, take off the heels, race home just LOVIN' traffic and rush hour asshole drivers, stopping of course to run errands but keeping the economy running so shopping is a good thing, regrouping for the next day (clean out gym gear, e.g., hang up wet towels and bathing suit, air out ditty bag, recharge shuffle, replace emergency socks with new ones), then lay out very professional clothing for work trying not to forget the socks again, reset alarms, wipe lip gloss off the rim of water bottle and refill, get fresh gear together for whatever workout is planned for the morning, and then pour myself a goblet of white wine and STOP MOVING for almost 5 whole minutes, albeit not sitting down (yet). Then pour my second goblet, trying to forget the world outside and just relax a bit before setting up the coffee, making a highly nutritious breakfast and lunch to pack along for tomorrow, adding chocolate just in case someone pisses me off and I NEED a treat, cooking dinner, setting a table, finishing the wine, vowing not to drink this much again tomorrow because I am NOT going to lose weight this way, finally sitting down and barely eating because I'm exhausted from a long day and wine, and passing out on the couch.
Repeat until Friday then "sleep in" on Saturday because the Y doesn't open until 7:00, then push a three hour workout because I have no life. Eat a huge breakfast because I am starved. Nap. Drink. Eat dinner. Blog. Sleep, hopefully without waking up six times because of the hot flashes and excess use of alcohol.
T.B.B. is back trying to get her stupid shoulder working again and I think she is a TROOPER. Okay so she thinks she needs to lose a few pounds but GAWD if I looked like her I'd be happier than a pig in shit. I haven't lost an ounce, though like most gals, I would like to lose at least a few pounds before "bikini season". I tell the men when they complain about needing to go on a diet to remember bikini season; I think they think I'm weird.
At least I don't think I'm clinically depressed, and I think I'm keeping life's usual anxieties under some sort of control, although I still have no patience for lousy drivers. OK Cookie: pass the rum.
Monday. Repeat.
We also agree that we would probably lose the weight we want to lose in record time if we didn't actually NEED those drinks. ROUTINE: I start at 5:00 a.m. and work out for at least two hours in a race against time (surely I'm not as old as I look), work all day M-F (doing all that I can to prove my worth and stay ahead of the curve - no stress there!), without a banana break like Evil Lifeguard seems to need every 1.25 hours or so, walk back out to my car, strip off the bra, take off the heels, race home just LOVIN' traffic and rush hour asshole drivers, stopping of course to run errands but keeping the economy running so shopping is a good thing, regrouping for the next day (clean out gym gear, e.g., hang up wet towels and bathing suit, air out ditty bag, recharge shuffle, replace emergency socks with new ones), then lay out very professional clothing for work trying not to forget the socks again, reset alarms, wipe lip gloss off the rim of water bottle and refill, get fresh gear together for whatever workout is planned for the morning, and then pour myself a goblet of white wine and STOP MOVING for almost 5 whole minutes, albeit not sitting down (yet). Then pour my second goblet, trying to forget the world outside and just relax a bit before setting up the coffee, making a highly nutritious breakfast and lunch to pack along for tomorrow, adding chocolate just in case someone pisses me off and I NEED a treat, cooking dinner, setting a table, finishing the wine, vowing not to drink this much again tomorrow because I am NOT going to lose weight this way, finally sitting down and barely eating because I'm exhausted from a long day and wine, and passing out on the couch.
Repeat until Friday then "sleep in" on Saturday because the Y doesn't open until 7:00, then push a three hour workout because I have no life. Eat a huge breakfast because I am starved. Nap. Drink. Eat dinner. Blog. Sleep, hopefully without waking up six times because of the hot flashes and excess use of alcohol.
T.B.B. is back trying to get her stupid shoulder working again and I think she is a TROOPER. Okay so she thinks she needs to lose a few pounds but GAWD if I looked like her I'd be happier than a pig in shit. I haven't lost an ounce, though like most gals, I would like to lose at least a few pounds before "bikini season". I tell the men when they complain about needing to go on a diet to remember bikini season; I think they think I'm weird.
At least I don't think I'm clinically depressed, and I think I'm keeping life's usual anxieties under some sort of control, although I still have no patience for lousy drivers. OK Cookie: pass the rum.
Monday. Repeat.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Going Away
When I get to a point where all I want to say is "GO AWAY" it's nice when it's me that actually does.
Like the jet setter I'm not, I just got back from a long weekend in Dallas "on business", which basically means I stayed in an overpriced hotel and ate too much on the company nickel and paid very little attention to what was happening at my meetings. It was all good.
When I checked in I was informed that my room wasn't ready, so in finding me an alternative I asked, coyly of course, if it would be an upgrade. A sly glance, a tickety-boo, and the hotel clerk said "All set [S.L.B.] - enjoy your stay!" When I got to my room BINGO - Executive Suite! I totally scored. Big, beautiful room with a cathedral view, so I was told. I think I saw it in the distance.
So the room was nice, but what about the fitness center??? Most hotel workout zones are small and stinky, the water cooler empty, the stability balls squishy and, at 5:00 a.m., good luck finding a clean towel. O.M.G. NOT! Huge space, all gleaming hardwood floors totally free of tumbleweeds, 12 dreadmills, a bunch of ellipticals, 5 bikes, about 30 weight machines, free weights, huge workout mat with mirrors, and 24/7. At 4:30 a.m. I was the only one there on Saturday morning - BINGO! BONUS: After a run I got to watch cartoons, partly because I couldn't figure out how to change the channel. Kinda warped me for the rest of the day.
Skimped on breakfast because the stupid meetings started at 8:00 a.m. but lunch and dinner out was a virtual feast. French fries, burgers, beer, meat on a stick, too many tapas (if there is such a thing), eating outdoors because it was warm, dessert, champagne, and, in the morning, a small hangover to work off on the dreadmill. Which is probably why I slipped getting into the bathtub on Sunday only to whomp my head on the floor when my feet went out from under me. Time to slow down.
NOT. Did a big day, ate out again, and did another run on Monday before flying home. It was a nice break from my routine, and, though I like my routine, one does get into a rut sometimes, especially during the winter season when I'm mostly stuck inside with only the stupid ideas in my head to entertain me.
Hotel fitness centers are not the friendliest places on earth but what can I expect at 5:00 a.m.? The bar isn't open yet. Nice to go away. Better to get home to my buddies at the Y. And I missed our nice big pool. Hotel pools are for kids, and there were no rules posted about not peeing in the pool.
Like the jet setter I'm not, I just got back from a long weekend in Dallas "on business", which basically means I stayed in an overpriced hotel and ate too much on the company nickel and paid very little attention to what was happening at my meetings. It was all good.
When I checked in I was informed that my room wasn't ready, so in finding me an alternative I asked, coyly of course, if it would be an upgrade. A sly glance, a tickety-boo, and the hotel clerk said "All set [S.L.B.] - enjoy your stay!" When I got to my room BINGO - Executive Suite! I totally scored. Big, beautiful room with a cathedral view, so I was told. I think I saw it in the distance.
So the room was nice, but what about the fitness center??? Most hotel workout zones are small and stinky, the water cooler empty, the stability balls squishy and, at 5:00 a.m., good luck finding a clean towel. O.M.G. NOT! Huge space, all gleaming hardwood floors totally free of tumbleweeds, 12 dreadmills, a bunch of ellipticals, 5 bikes, about 30 weight machines, free weights, huge workout mat with mirrors, and 24/7. At 4:30 a.m. I was the only one there on Saturday morning - BINGO! BONUS: After a run I got to watch cartoons, partly because I couldn't figure out how to change the channel. Kinda warped me for the rest of the day.
Skimped on breakfast because the stupid meetings started at 8:00 a.m. but lunch and dinner out was a virtual feast. French fries, burgers, beer, meat on a stick, too many tapas (if there is such a thing), eating outdoors because it was warm, dessert, champagne, and, in the morning, a small hangover to work off on the dreadmill. Which is probably why I slipped getting into the bathtub on Sunday only to whomp my head on the floor when my feet went out from under me. Time to slow down.
NOT. Did a big day, ate out again, and did another run on Monday before flying home. It was a nice break from my routine, and, though I like my routine, one does get into a rut sometimes, especially during the winter season when I'm mostly stuck inside with only the stupid ideas in my head to entertain me.
Hotel fitness centers are not the friendliest places on earth but what can I expect at 5:00 a.m.? The bar isn't open yet. Nice to go away. Better to get home to my buddies at the Y. And I missed our nice big pool. Hotel pools are for kids, and there were no rules posted about not peeing in the pool.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Room for Improvement
Did you hear that??? What do you think it is??? Why, YES, I think you're right - that's the sound of resolutions breaking all over the Y. And I thought it was my back creaking.
Do more! Get stronger and fitter! Improve your body and your well, uh, your body will do!
In a desperate bid to prove I'm not 50 and to lose the 2.8 ounces I gained during the holidays I ramped up my workouts and vowed to tweet (@keb12205) at least once a day (#gymjunkie). I proceeded then to tweet my back instead and got followed on Twitter by at least two lesbians and a commercial interest. What to do???
SOLUTION: I took 3 ibuprofen and two days off work to baby my back, skipped the tweets and as a tweet to myself I had a massage to help alleviate the pain and try to figure out what the f#@k was going on. DIAGNOSES: Basically I'm 50 and need to back off on the workouts, and (Resolution #4 is) DRINK MORE WATER. I wonder if beer counts as water??? Sigh. There's definitely room for improvement, but I think I'm trying too hard in all the wrong ways.
However, did we all read the article in the NYTimes about how yoga can wreck your body? Trust me, I'd rather wreck my body doing yoga or running too far or doing too many crunches or lifting too much weight or swimming too long, which apparently I have done, than eating nothing but Doritos and watching TV, which is just fine, by the way, if you're flat on your back from overdoing it at the gym, but not fine if you're just being a lazy sod. But I don't really WANT to be a wreck, I'd just rather die on a treadmill than on the couch with crumbs all over my tummy when the EMTs come to take me away.
QUESTION: Who watches infomercials? 30 minutes of a running ad to sell you 6 videos on how to wreck your body with a kettleball is just slightly stupider than watching back-to-back Frasier re-runs all morning, which I will NOT admit to.
And NO there was no "Jesus moment" if you are curious about how I hurt my back, like "Jesus, what did I do"? It snuck up on me like middle age itself.
Maybe I'll read a book. One with a spine that doesn't creak when you open it. Pass me my Kindle.
Do more! Get stronger and fitter! Improve your body and your well, uh, your body will do!
In a desperate bid to prove I'm not 50 and to lose the 2.8 ounces I gained during the holidays I ramped up my workouts and vowed to tweet (@keb12205) at least once a day (#gymjunkie). I proceeded then to tweet my back instead and got followed on Twitter by at least two lesbians and a commercial interest. What to do???
SOLUTION: I took 3 ibuprofen and two days off work to baby my back, skipped the tweets and as a tweet to myself I had a massage to help alleviate the pain and try to figure out what the f#@k was going on. DIAGNOSES: Basically I'm 50 and need to back off on the workouts, and (Resolution #4 is) DRINK MORE WATER. I wonder if beer counts as water??? Sigh. There's definitely room for improvement, but I think I'm trying too hard in all the wrong ways.
However, did we all read the article in the NYTimes about how yoga can wreck your body? Trust me, I'd rather wreck my body doing yoga or running too far or doing too many crunches or lifting too much weight or swimming too long, which apparently I have done, than eating nothing but Doritos and watching TV, which is just fine, by the way, if you're flat on your back from overdoing it at the gym, but not fine if you're just being a lazy sod. But I don't really WANT to be a wreck, I'd just rather die on a treadmill than on the couch with crumbs all over my tummy when the EMTs come to take me away.
QUESTION: Who watches infomercials? 30 minutes of a running ad to sell you 6 videos on how to wreck your body with a kettleball is just slightly stupider than watching back-to-back Frasier re-runs all morning, which I will NOT admit to.
And NO there was no "Jesus moment" if you are curious about how I hurt my back, like "Jesus, what did I do"? It snuck up on me like middle age itself.
Maybe I'll read a book. One with a spine that doesn't creak when you open it. Pass me my Kindle.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Reflections
Hey, new treadmills - FINALLY. The TV monitors are set low instead of right in front of your face. Now I can see a reflection of the whole fitness center behind me laid before me. My feng shui energy has gone through the roof.
As you probably know, the window before sunrise acts like a great big mirror. In it I can see the reflection of the brand name of the treadmill, backwards. It reads "carT ratS". I think that's pretty funny.
I can also see myself. I start out white and cheerful and end up a red, drippy, ragged mess. A litte smoke and mirrors would be a good thing. So let's watch what's going on behind me instead, shall we???
Mostly I recognize everyone and mostly everyone is trying to ignore everyone else but are still watching what's going on without being obvious about it. This is considered "cool". If a friend walks by behind me we do waves in the glass. Gym Junkies know that big mirror shows all.
In daylight one can also see the parking lot and the sky and the trees and the weather. I love it. OR you can watch this little tart on your monitor put you through a fitness routine. OR you can watch movies off your iPod. I wonder what the Y will do the first time they catch some nut watching porn?
Lifting weights in front of that big mirror is also fun for making believe you are watching yourself pose when in fact you are watching the cute guy spotting the other cute guy behind you. I can also tell time backwards because I watch the clock in the mirror. I'm so clever.
There are NO mirrors in the spinning room, so you don't know what's going on behind you, which is why no one likes to take the bikes near the front of the closet. Bad feng shui there, folks.
I always thought, as I reflect here in my final bloggy moments, that those that practice feng shui and have mirrors carefully placed so they can see what's behind them are PARANOID. But now I think, besides trying to be calm and refreshed, that they are all really just spying on what's going on behind them because it's fun.
I'll end with a quote from Martin Mull: It's hard to decide if TV makes morons out of everyone, or if it mirrors Americans who really are morons to begin with. Maybe you should check out the tart, instead. Or pick a treadmill with TV monitor that isn't working. We already have two.
As you probably know, the window before sunrise acts like a great big mirror. In it I can see the reflection of the brand name of the treadmill, backwards. It reads "carT ratS". I think that's pretty funny.
I can also see myself. I start out white and cheerful and end up a red, drippy, ragged mess. A litte smoke and mirrors would be a good thing. So let's watch what's going on behind me instead, shall we???
Mostly I recognize everyone and mostly everyone is trying to ignore everyone else but are still watching what's going on without being obvious about it. This is considered "cool". If a friend walks by behind me we do waves in the glass. Gym Junkies know that big mirror shows all.
In daylight one can also see the parking lot and the sky and the trees and the weather. I love it. OR you can watch this little tart on your monitor put you through a fitness routine. OR you can watch movies off your iPod. I wonder what the Y will do the first time they catch some nut watching porn?
Lifting weights in front of that big mirror is also fun for making believe you are watching yourself pose when in fact you are watching the cute guy spotting the other cute guy behind you. I can also tell time backwards because I watch the clock in the mirror. I'm so clever.
There are NO mirrors in the spinning room, so you don't know what's going on behind you, which is why no one likes to take the bikes near the front of the closet. Bad feng shui there, folks.
I always thought, as I reflect here in my final bloggy moments, that those that practice feng shui and have mirrors carefully placed so they can see what's behind them are PARANOID. But now I think, besides trying to be calm and refreshed, that they are all really just spying on what's going on behind them because it's fun.
I'll end with a quote from Martin Mull: It's hard to decide if TV makes morons out of everyone, or if it mirrors Americans who really are morons to begin with. Maybe you should check out the tart, instead. Or pick a treadmill with TV monitor that isn't working. We already have two.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Freak Show
Okay my first New Year's Resolution is this: I will be more accepting of others and embrace their differences as part of the gift of life.
NOT.
Today was Freak Show Day. The Fat Lady was in the hot tub. We get to see her for free, but in the days of yore you would have to pay at least a nickel to stare at her in a circus tent. After my swim I love to find a moment of peace in the warmth of that tub, but today I had to listen to her talk about herself and her accidents and knees and other weird shit to the other, nicer members willing to indulge her. The Black Swan is training to be a nurse. She smiled, and listened. Unlike me she needs no resolution to be a better person. I think nurses are angels. I would totally dope slap any patient that was that ridiculous. I wanted to whack her with my swim fins, the only weapon I had handy at the time.
My second New Year's Resolution is this: I will accept praise and criticism with equal attention and welcome the kind words and the comfort of strangers.
NOT.
So escaping the drama of the hot tub I enter the lair of the sauna. No shit The Illustrated Man and Rambo were in there discussing boys being shot in downtown Albany last night. I think Rambo is a cop. Lovely, redneck harp about the good old days and all the crazies out there. Their attention soon turned towards me and my bod. Now ain't that relaxing??? Hey, I wanted to say, why "do" Lark Street when you can just go to the Y if you want to talk to crazy folks??? But I didn't. I SMILED and said "Have A Nice Day" as I escaped to the locker room, thinking I might finally be safe.
NOT.
My third New Year's Resolution is this: I will not complain about every little thing and I will instead be positive and warm and friendly at all times.
NOT.
Bitch session about broken treadmills, the FitLinxx being pulled, bracing ourselves for an onslaught of new members in the New Year (the Y is always too busy in January with interlopers), and a jammed paper towel dispenser. Two thumbs down (very handy). If we want to keep the number of "active" members to a minimum I recommend collective bitchin' and cursin' and not sharin' - all very discouraging to the folks that joined today for free and the 50% plus of Americans that really NEED to start exercising and hate the gym before they even join. But I did very kindly show a woman who could have been a man how to get to the pool. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I WANT to be nice, really I do!!!
My fourth New Year's Resolution is this: To show the ones I love that I really love them. Every day. This one I will promise to keep.
Happy New Year to all of you.
xxx
NOT.
Today was Freak Show Day. The Fat Lady was in the hot tub. We get to see her for free, but in the days of yore you would have to pay at least a nickel to stare at her in a circus tent. After my swim I love to find a moment of peace in the warmth of that tub, but today I had to listen to her talk about herself and her accidents and knees and other weird shit to the other, nicer members willing to indulge her. The Black Swan is training to be a nurse. She smiled, and listened. Unlike me she needs no resolution to be a better person. I think nurses are angels. I would totally dope slap any patient that was that ridiculous. I wanted to whack her with my swim fins, the only weapon I had handy at the time.
My second New Year's Resolution is this: I will accept praise and criticism with equal attention and welcome the kind words and the comfort of strangers.
NOT.
So escaping the drama of the hot tub I enter the lair of the sauna. No shit The Illustrated Man and Rambo were in there discussing boys being shot in downtown Albany last night. I think Rambo is a cop. Lovely, redneck harp about the good old days and all the crazies out there. Their attention soon turned towards me and my bod. Now ain't that relaxing??? Hey, I wanted to say, why "do" Lark Street when you can just go to the Y if you want to talk to crazy folks??? But I didn't. I SMILED and said "Have A Nice Day" as I escaped to the locker room, thinking I might finally be safe.
NOT.
My third New Year's Resolution is this: I will not complain about every little thing and I will instead be positive and warm and friendly at all times.
NOT.
Bitch session about broken treadmills, the FitLinxx being pulled, bracing ourselves for an onslaught of new members in the New Year (the Y is always too busy in January with interlopers), and a jammed paper towel dispenser. Two thumbs down (very handy). If we want to keep the number of "active" members to a minimum I recommend collective bitchin' and cursin' and not sharin' - all very discouraging to the folks that joined today for free and the 50% plus of Americans that really NEED to start exercising and hate the gym before they even join. But I did very kindly show a woman who could have been a man how to get to the pool. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I WANT to be nice, really I do!!!
My fourth New Year's Resolution is this: To show the ones I love that I really love them. Every day. This one I will promise to keep.
Happy New Year to all of you.
xxx
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