09.19.2003 - 3:23 p.m.
My office mate was on the phone today arranging to have a new stove delivered to Workplace (what, your office doesn't have a stove?), and apparently the guy asked her if the old stove was in our galley. "Galley", she sniffed to me after hanging up. "What's he talking about?"
"Well," I responded happily, "he was asking if the stove was in our kitchen...and maybe he knows it's TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!!" (I had been waiting to bring this up, you see.) "Arrrr!"
Me: "Dude. It's totally Talk Like A Pirate Day. You know, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum? Shiver me timbers?"
Molly: "Shut UP it is not."
Me: "Is too."
Molly: "Is not."
Me: (seeing an engineer walk by) "Hey Corwin!"
Corwin: (brightening) "It's Talk Like A Pirate Day, isn't it?"
Me: "SEE. Molly, you're a geek."
Molly: "CLEARLY, I am NOT the geek around here."
So I went to the gym last night. For the first time in, um, a long time. I felt really sheepish entering the building, like maybe some Slacker Alarm would sound and a bunch of black balloons with "LOSER" printed on them would float down from the ceiling.
It's so, so dumb how I get myself in these intermittent states of completely avoiding the gym for months on end and then I get all depressed and bleak and stagger around shaking my (wimpy) fists at my bloated-sea-cow image in the mirror before finally pulling my raggedy shit together and re-visiting the damn elliptical machine. I feel better when I'm working out regularly; physically better, and more importantly, mentally better - so what's the damn issue with, excuse me Nike, Just Doing It?
Here's what I was writing last year, almost to the day: I've been neglecting my body, too. It deserves better than to be driven from point A to point B like some junker station wagon.
TOTALLY. Fucking-A, Sundry of September 2002! The more active you are, the better you feel, so why exactly is that so hard to remember?
Anyway. It was good to be back at the Pro Club, marveling as always at the sheer gym-bling of the place. I did my little hamsterlike cardio stint, some weights, and walked out feeling about a thousand times better than I had when I walked in. I blared Liz Phair as I drove from the parking lot, because I don't know, the moment just deserved a little "What Makes You Happy" action.
I feel the sun on my back
I smell the earth in my skin
I see the sky above me like a full recovery
(Shut up, I know the rest of the lyrics don't fit the "theme" here.)
Now you must go say "yarrr" in someone's ear. Do not waste the precious few hours left in Talk Like A Pirate Day!
go back :::
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004