| July 10th, 2009 |
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Wooo, I have returned.
I am currently loafing in bed, typing on my miniscule Nokia 770 that is being propped up by A Secret of Nymh book that was given to me by K'nen. Family guy is blaring on my tiny black and white TV, and the A/C unit is pleasantly blowing upon my ass. Seriously, if it was not for the invention of A/C Florida would be flat out uninhabitable. Unless you lived next to a spring and could dip when you wanted to.
Why is there a potholder in my bedroom? I own two. One is in my bedroom. Hmmm.
Let's see, what is new. I went to the Gym tonight, something I have been trying to do more often since I am a FatAss. I like this gym I go to, a little out of the way one located in a mostly abandoned strip mall, however two things about it annoy me. The first is the Meathead who works the counter who brings in fast food. It is some sort of particularly stinky fast food, I think it was Chinese last time. While I really do not mind the smell of Chinese, it is a different matter when you are pumping away on some cardio machine and gasping for breath when the room suddenly fills up with the stench of various sea animals and cabbage submerged in grease. It’s a total buzzkill. You are working away, thinking 'yeaaaah, good workout, feel the burn' when suddenly the grease stench fills up your nostrils and somehow makes friends with the wad of fat floating about your stomach. Fun.
The other thing that annoys me is The Geek. The Geek is a daily apparition of whose existence I was acquainted by the fact that that one day I made headway to a particular nautilus machine and once I sat down he rushed over and whined out through a pair of braces that 'he was still using that machine'. Being the infinity polite person I am, I simply gave him a dirty look and moved on to a different machine. It still annoyed me, however, and I always spy him out when I pay the gym a visit. He reminds me of that dork that was recently an internet sensation because he made a youtube video decrying the fact that 50 cent had no street cred. Behold:
He was there when I visited tonight, and still annoyed me even though I had zero contact with him. As far as I can tell, he chooses some machine, sets the weights about fifty times higher than he can handle, presses the weights about twice, makes some little mark in the red notebook he carries, and then sits on the machine staring into space for a full ten minutes. Then the entire act is repeated. I suppose it is petty, but I really loathe the guy.
I recently lost my vast plethora of television channels. The satellite tv that I was mooching recently went dark and now I am left with all the glory that a pair of rabbit ears has to offer. To be fair, I am fairly impressed with the quality of digital television, however I have been reunited with that old acquaintance, the sitcom.
Only recently have I been able to pinpoint exactly what annoys me with scripted comedy. It’s the fact that nothing changes, and no matter what the little characters do, they are always stuck in some sort of social time bubble. The dateless are always dateless, the married folks fight but never get divorced, people always have the same job. Most episodes are centered on either something bad or something good happening to them, and by time the half hour is up whatever happened is resolved and they are back to square one. If they lost a job or a friend, they get them back. If they get promoted or meet someone special, at the end they are back at their old job and that new person is gone. It is actually rather depressing. Like little hamsters running on the wheel while outsiders laugh at their antics.
I made a big mess of beans and rice last night, the perfect poor persons food. Mmm.
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