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Gym-ish Things Part 2

25 Aug

It was a day like any other.  I went to the gym.  I started my typical Interval Run of Doom.  I realize that some of you aren’t familiar with interval running, so let me explain.  Interval running is a very mean thing to do when your body complains too much.  It is an excellent way to build endurance, improve heart health, and as a bonus, it will scare any cellulite into smoothness.  Really.  My fat cells shrink with fear post run.  While it is an extremely challenging work out, it keeps your brain interested and you always have the ‘carrot’ of a one minute interval of walking post sprint.  I typically warm up with a thirteen minute run at a moderate pace and then I do intervals of three minute run, one minute sprint, and a one minute walk for about an hour.  It’s not something you should do every day, but it sure does mix up your work outs nicely.

Anyways. . . So it was interval day and things were going beautifully.  Ipee the Ipod may or may not have been playing “My Humps” and the world was a happy place.  My sprints were on fire, my legs were taking it like a champ, my breathing technique was great and my insanely heavy hair was even staying in place.  And then, something weird happened.  A lady got onto the treadmill next to me and began to slowly trudge away. . . while talking on her cell phone. Her conversation really didn’t bother me, really, I don’t care, it was odd but none of my business.  I went on my merry way walking, running, and sprinting.  When all of a sudden, she gave me a withering look, turned off her cell phone and stomped away.  Um. ..   Ok, I realize that a sprint is technically loud, but lady, you are NOT in your living room.  You are in a  gym.

Perhaps I am old fashioned, but is it too much to request that we not insist upon talking on our cell phones at every single moment?  There is no way that I will ever think that her anger towards my workout was justified.

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Work Appropriate #1

5 Aug

Tappity tappity ping! Tappity tappity ping! Tappity Ring ring!
“Guy Gumshoe, Private Eye. . .  Hello Mrs Finklebottom. . .*Tappity* No, we haven’t found him yet. . .*tap*.. .Yes we’re working on it. . .*yelling. . Slam!*. . . Good grief. .. ”
I continued to type. . .Tappity. .. Tappity. . The door creaked open and-  Slam! Guy Gumshoe strode into the office with purpose, with determination, with panache with-
“Ms Friday I need you to get me Sammy the Snitch on the phone immediately and then I need you to-”
“Sir, I can’t. Sammy the Snitch-”
“Of course you can. Wait a minute, who are you? What have you done with your hair?”
“Sammy the Snitch got whacked by Moe the Mobster last Wednesday. I just got my hair done. It’s supposed to look like Veronica Lake, I hear it’s the latest thing, do you like it?”
“No. I don’t like it and I don’t like change. Ring Flo-”
“Florence the Floozy has been sleeping with the fishes since she crossed Speak Easy Pete 2 months ago.”
“Hmm. .. Well call someone and get the low down on the Finklesteen boy and get it fast.”
And just as quickly as he had come, Guy Gumshoe disappeared into his office. I turned open my address book and began searching for someone, anyone who might know the whereabouts of Freddy Finklesteen. He had been missing for 3 months and our investigation had revealed a bit of a seedy past. Guy’s door opened slowly.
“And Ms Friday, will you get me something to drink?”
“I thought we were abiding by prohibition now.”
“Only on Tuesdays”
“It is Tuesday.”
“Only on last Tuesday”
“Just a minute.”
I opened my desk drawer and brought out our contraband bottle of scotch when something terrible happened.
The door opened and in rushed what could best be described as a giant lime green swamp monster with a bad hair day. Tentacles and assorted pond scum waved in a threatening manner. I dropped the scotch and screamed.
“Katie are you ok? Oh my-”
BANG!
With an ominous wail, the swamp creature fell to the floor. Cautiously, Guy and I approached the deceased monster only to find. . .
“Holy cats! That’s my assistant, Ms. Tacky!” I cried.
We had a bit of trouble explaining ourselves to the fuzz, but upon examination they agreed that Ms. Tacky’s death was purely accidental. Given the strange costume she had on, it was a mistake that anyone could have made, they said.
Turns out she was really just going for one of those new fangled, Bohemian looks. She was dressed from head to toe in flowy ruffly crepe-y fabric. Her fatal mistake was the color choice of lime green.
And that is why, dear friends, you should always wear sane and professional attire at work.

Witches

8 Jul

Today I am thinking about fairy tales in general and, specifically, fairy tale witches. Think about every witch you can. What do they want? What are they like? What do they do?
In almost every circumstance I can think of, fairy tale witches are 1) female 2) Old or Middle aged and 3) after youth and beauty or the destruction of some young, beautiful person’s life. They go about achieving their desires through trickery, often wooing their victims with sweet words or candy. Other methods include random capture of lovely maidens and keeping them locked up in a tower. These old hags are mean.
I have often wondered where certain aspects of mythology and fairy tales originated. In my opinion, if you can find a mythological creature in the literature of several different cultures, then surely it must be at least somewhat based on fact. So I am asking you to cast off your view of a bent over old woman with one bulgy eye and a pointy hat and to really really think. . Where did this come from?
Oh darlings, are you ready for this?
In my life, I have personally met several fairy tale witches. At the hands of these types, I have been locked in a tower, stabbed in the back, and nearly cooked in an oven (ok, so not so much the oven, but how about offered a poison apple, pie, and comb, not to mention the entire ‘come with me, I live in a gingerbread house!’ incident??). My assailants have always been women, usually middle aged, and while they don’t fit the traditional mold, they all have the same horrible goals to poison the mind (concerning husbands or any random prince charming that may come along), crush dreams, and rob a gal of all her youth and beauty (this is usually accomplished by turning all the princes into frogs and then simply making sure to speak some negative spell in the presence of the princess in question until her youthful hope and happiness is gone). Thoroughly motivated by jealousy, they will try to rob you of hope and life and happiness, and basically make you as old tired and miserable and ugly as they are. Often times these women try to seduce with kind words. Overly kind words, sneakily gaining trust and then WHAM! Manipulation and evil acts of the most malicious in nature.
But why, oh why??? Why can’t they just let us young pretty princesses be? I have come to the conclusion that there is something innately evil in operation in many females, and the whole thing is fueled by jealousy and competition. I don’t understand, I will never understand why women can be so mean. Why they choose to be.
So here is my advice, don’t let this happen to you. I would much rather we all turn middle aged and start reading Amish romance novels (I don’t get it, but apparently this is what you do when you start inching up on the big 5-0) than into modern day fairy tale witches (complete with hairy warts!). So here is what we are going to do:
1)Have you heard of the saying “Don’t judge a man until you have walked 2 moons in his moccasins”? Well, now you have. But let’s switch it up, I say, do not be jealous (ever) but especially until you have walked two moons in this enviable person’s shoes. For all you know they have been through hell to get into the position that you so desire. Just get that nastiness out of your soul. It’s unbecoming and out of fashion.
2)Throw out your evil agenda. Please.
3)Develop character and generosity and forgiveness and stability while you are young. I swear, we could end this in one generation if we tried.
4)Don’t hang around bitter angry, evil people. They are toxic and really, if you hang around a kidnapping witch, there’s a good chance you’ll get stolen or robbed.
5)Laugh. Just laugh, be happy. When you do something totally klutzy in public, laugh! For goodness sake, we don’t have time for all of this scowling. As an added bonus, if you be so joyful, 16 year old boys will hit on you, too (more on that later!)