Life is better at the gym; Haircut conversations; photo series part II
My tax refund arrived, just in time for the realization that Depeche Mode was coming to Red Rocks Arena. Have you seen their new video for "Wrong"? Me likey. Me hopey stupid record company doesn't take it down before you get to click.
I agonized for a couple of hours over whether should I or shouldn't I. The problem is a.) concerts are no fun alone, and not something you can invite just anyone to (which has been covered previously in this blog) and b.) cheap seats evidently START at $100. Eek. Hey, DM? Did you hear we're in a recession? c.) I've been to a show at Red Rocks once. If you aren't seated just right, all the sound is literally blown away on the Rocky Mountain breeze. Like in the $100 seats.
I don't know what made me think of it, but I cruised by the 24-Hour Fitness site. Wait, I do know what made me think of it. A bunch of people from my hometown have appeared out of the woodwork to find me on Facebook, and some of them have gotten, well, kind of LARGE. Not that I can really point fingers, hence the 24-Hour Fitness drive-by. We've always had one across the street, a five-minute walk away. It's one of the few useful things we have in that plaza (half of it is a Furniture Row, not helpful in the day-to-day), but I've always had the Bowflex. I started thinking that the Bowflex, whether I use it consistently or not, doesn't really provide terribly dramatic results for me, and certainly nothing cardio, which I definitely need with my clerical job/DVD-watching hobby.
It turned out 24-Hour was featuring a promotion, ending naturally in just three days, $200 for a year -- $16 a month. How could I ignore THAT? Hell, for $16 a month I could just walk around with a water bottle and a towel, pretend to be working out and still feel better about myself.
My sister, who I can always count on to talk me into spending money, was in full support of it. The idea had way more pros than cons. For me the biggest pro was the money. Money is a BIG motivator for me (despite my lack of ambition career-wise), and spending it on a gym membership, even as little as $16 a month, might get my ass moving across the street the way I couldn't get it to the foot of the bed every morning.
My sister recommended I pop in and visit before making a decision, which I did Friday afternoon. I was paired with Aaron, a gung-ho salesman who took me on a whirlwind, 3-1/2 minute tour of the facility. He wanted to sit down and talk numbers immediately, specifically $600 for 3 years, and thereafter only $100 a year for life. A great deal, but I wasn't exactly ready for that level of commitment before having set foot on a single machine. They offer 7-day free passes, which didn't do me much good considering the promo ended on Sunday. I could check it out that night and Saturday, if I weren't about to embark on my 2-job work weekend. My timing is in all things outrageously off.
So instead I spent the whole weekend fantasizing about the way my life would change with this decision. The way I might finally have the energy, strength and body shape I've always wanted. No, I'll never be petite, but that doesn't mean I can't make some improvement. The way I might get some routine back in my life besides working, lounging around and sleeping. Big changes were coming. I could feel it.
Sunday I jumped out of bed, ready to change my life. I walked in and asked three times for Aaron (he had mentioned they worked on commission). No, that's okay, the young punk currently behind the desk would be more than happy to make the commission without doing any of the leg work help me. Young Golan, who could hardly bear to make eye contact with me and seemed more eager to get me back out the door than anything. He took my money, announced, "You're all set!" and that was that. No suggestion of how to get started, etc. The only way my life had changed was that I was now $200 poorer. Not as exhilarating as I had imagined. I must have missed the commercial where the vivacious young woman (you know, the one who's already slim and sexy and really doesn't need a gym) pays for her membership and leaps off like a joyous gazelle with all her newfound energy.
Fortunately our neighbor Anna has been going there for almost a month, and offered to bring me in Monday. Thanks to her I felt comfortable, and once I started using the machines I felt instantly like I'd been assimilated into an exclusive club, which I guess in a way I had. Maybe someday I'll work up the courage to try the Nautilus equipment.
~*~
Speaking of 2-job weekends, in Alexandra Pelosi's documentary about the 2008 presidential campaign trail ("Right America: Feeling Wronged"), she asks a typical redneck rightwinger if America is engaged in a civil war. "Sure," he twanged. "There's the homosexuals and then there's the hard-working Americans!" Evidently "Middle America" thinks teh gays just spend all day and night having teh gay sex. No wonder they're so jealous. But what about us bisexuals? Are we all only employed part-time?
The movie is worth a watch, if only so you can see grown men weep because they're so convinced that Barack is a terrorist and will singlehandedly destroy America.
~*~
As part of my big life change, I also got my hair cut on Sunday. Since I usually avoid most places of business on the weekend, I'd never met the young girl who drew my name off the computer, Tracy. She was nice enough. The first half of the session was spent discussing my exciting new lifestyle. The conversation took a turn for the worse when I admitted I worked at a vet hospital. Tracy politely asked if I had any pets, so I told her. Then we had this exchange:
Me: Yeah, the vet job isn't bad, except I don't especially like dogs.
Her: Oh, I HATE dogs. I've been bit like three times by dogs.
Me: Wow. Well, that would make me hate them too.
Her: I hate cats too. I'm more scared of them than dogs. They're SNEAKY.
Me: O....kay. I can understand that. How do you feel about ferrets?
Her: Ooh, they're UGLY. I wouldn't get close enough to one to know if I liked it or not.
Me: Fair enough. I hate kids, so we're even.
Her: What??! You don't hate kids. How can you say you hate kids?
This is what I can't stand. People are free to spout all sorts of vile prejudices against animals, fair or not. But if you say anything bad about kids, you're a monster. You'd think I said "I hate kids and want to make them all into sandwich meat."
Anyway, it was really funny when she noticed me playing the "pronoun game" about Tery, "my partner." As soon as I dropped the first "she," she blurted out "Do you watch The L-Word?" She gets an A for effort, F+ for subtlety.
~*~
If cats are guilty of sneakiness, it's sneaking their way into your heart. At least in the case of my Mitten. I give you more in the photo series. The two visually interesting ones as appeteasers:
The ever-precious head tilt
Head tilt and a "here, move that camera closer so I can rub against it"
Series II: Favorite Parts of a Cat, Head and Chest
This is the bib that covers her chest. It's like a flame of white and is as soft as it looks.
The back of her head. My girl's got a punky blonde streak just like I did in college
I promise the next installment will be the last.
Here are some attempts at being artistic.
My sexy new water bottle for my sexy new lifestyle
I picked this mongo huge strawberry out of the pack. I knew some people would never believe the size without some scale for comparison. Then I gave up getting a good shot with my face and instead ended up with this series of shots.
The Strawberry Series
1) Hello, Strawberry 2) I like the way you look, Strawberry 3) I REALLY like the way you look, Strawberry 4) I eat you, Strawberry. No hard feelings.
I agonized for a couple of hours over whether should I or shouldn't I. The problem is a.) concerts are no fun alone, and not something you can invite just anyone to (which has been covered previously in this blog) and b.) cheap seats evidently START at $100. Eek. Hey, DM? Did you hear we're in a recession? c.) I've been to a show at Red Rocks once. If you aren't seated just right, all the sound is literally blown away on the Rocky Mountain breeze. Like in the $100 seats.
I don't know what made me think of it, but I cruised by the 24-Hour Fitness site. Wait, I do know what made me think of it. A bunch of people from my hometown have appeared out of the woodwork to find me on Facebook, and some of them have gotten, well, kind of LARGE. Not that I can really point fingers, hence the 24-Hour Fitness drive-by. We've always had one across the street, a five-minute walk away. It's one of the few useful things we have in that plaza (half of it is a Furniture Row, not helpful in the day-to-day), but I've always had the Bowflex. I started thinking that the Bowflex, whether I use it consistently or not, doesn't really provide terribly dramatic results for me, and certainly nothing cardio, which I definitely need with my clerical job/DVD-watching hobby.
It turned out 24-Hour was featuring a promotion, ending naturally in just three days, $200 for a year -- $16 a month. How could I ignore THAT? Hell, for $16 a month I could just walk around with a water bottle and a towel, pretend to be working out and still feel better about myself.
My sister, who I can always count on to talk me into spending money, was in full support of it. The idea had way more pros than cons. For me the biggest pro was the money. Money is a BIG motivator for me (despite my lack of ambition career-wise), and spending it on a gym membership, even as little as $16 a month, might get my ass moving across the street the way I couldn't get it to the foot of the bed every morning.
My sister recommended I pop in and visit before making a decision, which I did Friday afternoon. I was paired with Aaron, a gung-ho salesman who took me on a whirlwind, 3-1/2 minute tour of the facility. He wanted to sit down and talk numbers immediately, specifically $600 for 3 years, and thereafter only $100 a year for life. A great deal, but I wasn't exactly ready for that level of commitment before having set foot on a single machine. They offer 7-day free passes, which didn't do me much good considering the promo ended on Sunday. I could check it out that night and Saturday, if I weren't about to embark on my 2-job work weekend. My timing is in all things outrageously off.
So instead I spent the whole weekend fantasizing about the way my life would change with this decision. The way I might finally have the energy, strength and body shape I've always wanted. No, I'll never be petite, but that doesn't mean I can't make some improvement. The way I might get some routine back in my life besides working, lounging around and sleeping. Big changes were coming. I could feel it.
Sunday I jumped out of bed, ready to change my life. I walked in and asked three times for Aaron (he had mentioned they worked on commission). No, that's okay, the young punk currently behind the desk would be more than happy to make the commission without doing any of the leg work help me. Young Golan, who could hardly bear to make eye contact with me and seemed more eager to get me back out the door than anything. He took my money, announced, "You're all set!" and that was that. No suggestion of how to get started, etc. The only way my life had changed was that I was now $200 poorer. Not as exhilarating as I had imagined. I must have missed the commercial where the vivacious young woman (you know, the one who's already slim and sexy and really doesn't need a gym) pays for her membership and leaps off like a joyous gazelle with all her newfound energy.
Fortunately our neighbor Anna has been going there for almost a month, and offered to bring me in Monday. Thanks to her I felt comfortable, and once I started using the machines I felt instantly like I'd been assimilated into an exclusive club, which I guess in a way I had. Maybe someday I'll work up the courage to try the Nautilus equipment.
~*~
Speaking of 2-job weekends, in Alexandra Pelosi's documentary about the 2008 presidential campaign trail ("Right America: Feeling Wronged"), she asks a typical redneck rightwinger if America is engaged in a civil war. "Sure," he twanged. "There's the homosexuals and then there's the hard-working Americans!" Evidently "Middle America" thinks teh gays just spend all day and night having teh gay sex. No wonder they're so jealous. But what about us bisexuals? Are we all only employed part-time?
The movie is worth a watch, if only so you can see grown men weep because they're so convinced that Barack is a terrorist and will singlehandedly destroy America.
~*~
As part of my big life change, I also got my hair cut on Sunday. Since I usually avoid most places of business on the weekend, I'd never met the young girl who drew my name off the computer, Tracy. She was nice enough. The first half of the session was spent discussing my exciting new lifestyle. The conversation took a turn for the worse when I admitted I worked at a vet hospital. Tracy politely asked if I had any pets, so I told her. Then we had this exchange:
Me: Yeah, the vet job isn't bad, except I don't especially like dogs.
Her: Oh, I HATE dogs. I've been bit like three times by dogs.
Me: Wow. Well, that would make me hate them too.
Her: I hate cats too. I'm more scared of them than dogs. They're SNEAKY.
Me: O....kay. I can understand that. How do you feel about ferrets?
Her: Ooh, they're UGLY. I wouldn't get close enough to one to know if I liked it or not.
Me: Fair enough. I hate kids, so we're even.
Her: What??! You don't hate kids. How can you say you hate kids?
This is what I can't stand. People are free to spout all sorts of vile prejudices against animals, fair or not. But if you say anything bad about kids, you're a monster. You'd think I said "I hate kids and want to make them all into sandwich meat."
Anyway, it was really funny when she noticed me playing the "pronoun game" about Tery, "my partner." As soon as I dropped the first "she," she blurted out "Do you watch The L-Word?" She gets an A for effort, F+ for subtlety.
~*~
If cats are guilty of sneakiness, it's sneaking their way into your heart. At least in the case of my Mitten. I give you more in the photo series. The two visually interesting ones as appeteasers:
The ever-precious head tilt
Head tilt and a "here, move that camera closer so I can rub against it"
Series II: Favorite Parts of a Cat, Head and Chest
This is the bib that covers her chest. It's like a flame of white and is as soft as it looks.
The back of her head. My girl's got a punky blonde streak just like I did in college
I promise the next installment will be the last.
Here are some attempts at being artistic.
My sexy new water bottle for my sexy new lifestyle
I picked this mongo huge strawberry out of the pack. I knew some people would never believe the size without some scale for comparison. Then I gave up getting a good shot with my face and instead ended up with this series of shots.
The Strawberry Series
1) Hello, Strawberry 2) I like the way you look, Strawberry 3) I REALLY like the way you look, Strawberry 4) I eat you, Strawberry. No hard feelings.