Fourth Tuesday

First of all, this month is so long, I swear I've missed a Tuesday. Disclaimer: Although this was "done" yesterday as per my contract (heh), the rat bastid in my building was being hella cheap with his wifi..instead of his usual porn party, I think he had a real live woman in his apartment because my efforts at signal swiping were thwarted at every turn.



What I learned at the Gym this week: It was a great day when I was able to find a No Joke in front of a television playing Judge Judy. I have not watched her in years because there is only so much sarcasm one person (even I) can take. Anyway she was a hit yesterday. I will spare you the whole sordid tale-but in one short 30min segment, she told a woman to stop having babies and go back to school and shot another plaintiff down with a $10 settlement on an old refrigerator that she wanted $415 for..."Lady, never in time has a refrigerator appreciated in value", I swear, she said that. Good times.



I managed 30min watching and listening to Portishead. Portishead always makes me feel so mysterious...if at all possible to feel mysterious on a No Joke swinging appendages for your life, that was me. The next part of my work out was 30min on the Modified No Joke. This time I felt all healthy and whatnot, so I decided to pump up the volume and listen to something with a "kick". Readers, the next time my silly a#% decides to listen to Junior Gonzalez's Tribute to Hector Lavoe, just "kick" me. See, my fitness plan is to run forward for one song, then run backwards for the next. Yeah. The songs were soooooooooooo long...PANAMA PANAMA PANAMA PANAMA!!!!! I felt sure that I was going to explode. Oh boy. Never again. At least next time I will tone it down with Marc Anthony's attempt.



Something else I learned at the Gym this week: Location, location, location...its not all about the television you post yourself in front of or the music you listen to. It is so important to make sure you surround yourself by the right people.



You don't want to be near the Gazelles. The Gazelles are the people at the gym who have no business there. They are uber fit and have nerve to wear the same type of fat belt that curls up my girth every time I so much as wink. Their belt is barely stretched. What are they holding in? Are they afraid their ribs are going to separate, surely they are not trying to say that there is one iota of fat to hold back. My fat belt fits me like sausage casing in boiling water. You get me.



You don't want to be near the Very Big. The Very Big are not bad, since their struggle is similar to yours. In fact they probably look at you with the same disdain as I submit the Gazelles to. The Very Big are not at fault of anything on their own-I respect their hustle. The problem is if you put yourself in their realm, you are liable to think you are so fit and doing so well, why push yourself? I mean, come on! Just listen to Ella Fitzgerald and daydream, shoot, as long as you keep moving, you are the winner!



Location, location, location, panama!panama!PA-NA-MA!! Sorry, its stuck in my head...



So I thought I was at a great location, because I had a nice mix of People Like Me, Gazelles (one) and Very Big (two). I knew that I would be OK, and I greeted my fellow athletes with the standard, DON'T-LOOK-AT-ME-I'M-TOO-BUSY-BEING-FIT-AND-MESSING-WITH-MY-IPOD-AND-YOU?esque way that we do. There was a Person Like Me right next to me, and then she LEFT.



Replacing her was a super built guy, the ONE who is so built he needn't even hold onto the Modified No Joke, the MNJ might as well hold onto him. I didn't really care, because like a Gazelle, he is so into himself, he won't bother me. Well. Well, I can tell you, he had his ipod on and started racing as I expected, but then he did something totally unexpected.



dramatic pause.....



He started singing. Yes, singing! Loudly singing, I swear Dear Readers, if I'm lying, I'm dying, I've never seen anyone !!ANYONE!! sing at the gym-at least not while working out. I could not believe it. It's bad enough when you have to hear someone's music through their ear buds, but a whole other story when you have to hear the nasal stereo surround noise of said someone's karaoke. Is nothing sacred? I'm still mad at him.



The most sexist thing I saw at the Gym this week: was on the news. With this Dear Readers, I leave you to your lives...anyway, while working out near Karaoke Running Man, the reporter started raving about March Madness (which I formally associated with CVS sales) and women loving basketball. That was not sexist. I don't care for sports, not because I am a woman, but because I simply don't care. What was pathetic, was the website called, I may be a little off, but How To Watch Sports Like a Girl. Excuse me? What the hell? Are you serious?



There were these insipid women on the news chortling about how much they looooove basketball and how they are picking the winners and their boyfriends just loooooove how much they are into the game. Oh brother. If you like sports, watch them. Do we really need a website about how to watch like a girl? How does a girl watch? Is it the same way some people "talk" white? Please. I've been accused of the second, so its a spot for me, sorry for that. Anyway. There is even a book to help woman follow sports. Why? Are they too feminine to follow something geared toward men? No Big Daddy, ESPN is tooooo much for me...please....



Ok. I am feeling a little rant-esque. I leave you to your lives, Readers. Thank you for reading. By the way, pick the team with the cutest uniforms, the most Gazelles and the least Karaoke Running Men.





You get me.





That's why I love you.



Lola