Sunday morning I had to hoist my heft off the dormancy platform at the obscene hour of 4 am. You know, because of work boolshit? And it was painful, my friends. But, the thing is… I believe the dreading of it is even worse than the actual doing of it. Know what I mean? I get all whipped up, and it dominates my thoughts for several days in advance. It practically ruins the days leading up to the event. I need in-patient counseling, it’s fairly clear at this point.
Indeed, I recorded the Monday episode of the podcast on Saturday evening and 4 am is the only thing on my mind. I’m in full anguish at that point. Check it out if you’re so inclined. I re-listened to it last night and it has some funny moments, I think. Here’s the summary:
In this one, I tell you about something I’m forced to endure four times per year, and how I have a difficult time rebounding from it. I’ll be feeling this crap deep into Tuesday! Needless to say, there are many barely-related jags along the way, including an impassioned tirade about similar complaints I’ve heard which I consider to be phony-baloney. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!
I’m thinking about joining a gym. Just for a one-hour per day walk on the treadmill. Nothing more… nothing less. There’s a Planet Fitness not too far from us — 4.3 miles according to Google — and it’s $10 per month. I might give it a shot. Yeah, yeah… I know I could go out and walk around the neighborhood for free. But it’s getting cold and snowy and icy, etc. In fact, it snowed here on both Friday and Saturday. What kind of fresh shit is that?? So, the weather is a perfect built-in excuse to “take a day off,” which morphs into a month, then seven years.
It’s difficult though, to successfully incorporate something new into your daily routine. Oh, it can be managed in the short term, but the universe has a way of maintaining the normal order of things. Am I wrong? How long does it take? How many months before it’s officially a part of the routine? Twelve? Eighteen? I’m not even sure that would be a safe distance from the swaddling riffle-ass status quo. I don’t know. We’ll see.
Planet Fitness is a Judgment Free Zone, remember. Except they spell it judgement, which I don’t appreciate. What is that, some kind of Euro crap? Or just a straight-up misspelling? I could look it up, but I’m lazy. …Wait a second, I just had a burst of energy and did a Google search. They started in New Hampshire. So, the way they spell judgment is highly problematic. I assumed they were Canadian or somesuch. Maybe I should re-think this whole thing?
Finally, for the Question of the Day… Has anybody ever made an offhand comment about your appearance, which probably meant next to nothing, that you have never forgotten? Maybe it even got into your brain, and made you self-conscious for years? I remember a kid named Eric telling me I had a “huge head” when we were in fourth or fifth grade. In fact, I remember exactly where we were standing when he said it. Ha! The same thing happened to Elaine on Seinfeld. I felt her pain. The thing is… I’m fairly sure I have a smallish head, like the gentleman above. But that comment left a mark, I’m telling you. Maybe it had something to do with my hair?
Do you have anything on this? Just some stupid comment that somebody made that you carry around with you to this day? If so, please tell us about it in the comments.
And I’m going to call it a day, my friends.
Please remember to use one of our Amazon links while you’re doing your holiday (or otherwise) shopping. There’s a good one in the sidebar, and a cuppa two tree underneath each update. Just click on through, and shop as normal. It’ll cost you nothing extra, and will help me a great deal. Thank you guys!
And by the way, the Now Playing album linked below came out on Friday and I can’t stop listening to it. It’s on full perma-repeat in the subterranean bunker.
I’ll be back on Thursday.
Have a great week!
Now playing in the bunker
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Now – it is “you are going bald”. No shit, Sherlock.
A few years back, the wife and I joined a gym. She wanted to use the pool, which she did. I needed to incorporate it into my daily grind. So I got up extra early, stopped at the gym on the way to work, worked-out, showered, dressed for work, then completed my commute. As you can imagine, it got to the point where I was just going through the motions, and I couldn’t handle the men’s shower facility in the long-term. But best-o-luck to ya!
I started growing a beard for the first time (I’m in my 30s) and now pretty much every acquaintance I know has asked why. What’s considered a good reason for growing a beard? Do people have serious reasons for such things? I used to use the “tired of shaving” excuse but now a month later, I just say, witness protection program.
I’ve now given more thought to coming up with a reason for growing a beard than I have given thought to the actual growing of said beard. It’s highly illogical.
It’s Movember, men are supposed to grow facial hair this month to raise awareness for prostate cancer.
Supposed to? This started in October anyway.
I’m growing a full beard for the first time in 30 years. I think to see how
gray it will come out. It”s been 3 weeks now and I’m already thinking of
Santa. Except I’m not a fan of little squealers. AND now everyone will be
thinking about my prostate? I might need a new plan.
BTW, one of the “regulars” at the men’s locker room was someone I referred to as “the fat, naked guy”, and he looked just like Vito Spattafore from The Sopranos. He was always in the locker room, always naked, and often sat on a bench reading the daily paper. But he liked to engage in conversations with everyone, and he never seemed to work out. He was always in there – before, during, and after my workout. It was just one of those things I had to accept.
This one time, at band camp (no, really!), I had worked up the nerve to go to the nightly party in the mess hall and shake my booty to some sweet ’70’s music (because it was the ’70’s). Got out on the dance floor, was getting into it, and some girl slid past me and giddily remarked on my vigorous hip-swinging terpsichorean style.
I walked IMMEDIATELY off the dance floor and have eschewed dancing in public ever since.
Or would have, if during my senior year in HS, while undergoing the rigorous duties of a marching band drum major, I hadn’t been obligated to disco-dance to ‘Copacabana’ with my male drum major partner during the half-time show, which is performed, as you may know, in front of the entire school during a break in the sportsball game. What utter humiliation.
Joe T says
My Phys Ed coach, as I was walking into the locker room said my first and last name, then followed it with, “have fork, will travel.”
I’m not proud of this but in grammar school I had two friends. One very tall the other quite round. I made a comment about them… I have two big friends. One in length one in width. Length and width lasted for decades.
A girl once was hitting on my brother looked at me and said “you’re not… ugly”. That one comes up pretty much every Christmas.
An old Korean guy I took care of would see me walk past his room and would yell (in a thick, Korean accent) “Hey! Fat one! “ He’d also rub my belly whenever I got close enough.
There have also been several complimentery remarks that I still remember, too. Those made similar lasting impressions and I occasionally bask in their perpetual warmth, so it all evens out I suppose.
Sebastian Valmont says
Years ago, a lady I worked with said that I had a “Spongebob face.” I was, and still am, baffled by her comment. I am super pale, don’t have prominent front teeth and have a well proportioned nose; nothing at all like Spongebob.
Then, right as I wrote this comment, I looked in the mirror carefully to see what she meant. Still have no clue, except that we both have blue eyes.
I had 2 unrelated people tell me I reminded them of Toni Collette. United States of Tara had just come out so I didn’t know how to take it. One said it was more mannerisms, whew!
You might remind me of Tone Colet if I knew who that was. You’re not talking about the hooker from St. Louis are you? I’m not casting asparagus — that’s just the only Toni Collettette I know.
We have a community center we belong to. I walk on the treadmill most of the time. They also have a saltwater warm pool that I like to swim laps in. The only other people in it are usually elderly people and people with little kids, so I’m not too self conscious about how I look. The rest of my family belong to a hardcore gym, with serious weightlifting and stuff. No promises of a judgment free zone there. It’s not for me.
I once had someone ask me if I had Turner Syndrome. Turner Syndrome is a chromosomal abnormality that usually causes mental retardation, so yeah, that one stuck with me. We were at work, at a job that requires college education, so I really didn’t know how to take it. Apparently my short stature caused her to make this diagnostic leap. And my tiny fingers. I’m short, and I’m not going to be a hand model, not Corky off Life Goes On. Jeez.