And then something happened...

I've been worrying for a few days that nothing exciting or post-worthy has been happening to me. Although most things I write about aren't exactly happening to me, they're things I care enough to form an opinion about, which, come to think of it, is not really saying much. But as soon as I decided I was washed up and work was sucking the life out of me (and it is), something slightly entertaining and slightly destructive happened.

Two factors combined yesterday to bring me to this time time and place. 1) My pilates instructor talked about a cool movie room at the gym she goes to a few miles north of me. She said they play the same movie all day long, over and over, and it makes the minutes fly by. My interest was piqued (I had to look that word up to make sure it wasn't really peaked). 2) My coworker/friend got in a car accident yesterday and due to recent hail storms, had to have a ride to a car rental place that was convienently a few miles north of me. So of course I decide to try out this crazy movie room gym thing I'd heard about. (Maybe other gyms have cardio cinemas and these aren't actually weird and new but to me? Insanity.)

I drug my coworker/friend to the gym with me - she kinda had to since I was giving her a ride and all - and we walked into the gym and stood outside the "cardio cinema." The sign next to the door said 7 Pounds was playing. I've been wanting to see at least a little of that movie, because the boy says it's really interesting (although I don't trust his movie judgment at. all.). We went in and were immediately consumed by darkness. It was really dark! I thought I would trip over people and/or equipment, so I stood like an idiot for a few minutes trying to figure out exactly what the set up was in the room. We found two treadmills together in the front and hopped on. It took a little less than 2 minutes before I realized there was a reason the treadmills at the front of the room (next to the giant, movie-sized screen) were empty. I nearly fell twice (or so I thought nearly fell, but I'll get to what nearly falling looks like in a minute) trying to look at the screen and run in a straight line, which I've decided is basically impossible.

We moved to treadmills in the middle of the room after a couple of minutes. Actually the coworker/friend left the entire cardio cinema after she ran a few minutes because she couldn't handle the intensity of the big screen, the dark room, and the blinking red lights of the machines, which were pretty much the only indicators of any kind of depth perception. Oh yeah! (in my best Peggy Hill)

I, on the other hand, really enjoyed the treadmill and the dark room. I vowed not to look at my time until the current scene was over. Turns out the scene I was watching was never over. 7 Pounds is a looong and boring movie. Good thing I caught the end. I had a sweater draped over the front of the treadmill, so a) I could cover my time with it (it's a mental thing) and b) it wouldn't sit on the dirty floor because I care about my sweater, you see? About 10 minutes into running, my sweater fell of the treadmill and traversed the length of the treadmill onto the ground behind me. I looked back to watch it land and turned back to running. I figured it would stay there and I would pick it up once I was done. A couple of seconds later the belt on the treadmills lurched and practically stopped. You know that almost falling I talked about earlier? That was nothing. This almost falling was much more palpable. Although I didn't technically bust it, I did flail supremely well and I yelled/screamed so loud that I drew the entire (full) room's attention away from a Will Smith sex scene to me.

The treadmill then went on its merry way, only at a slightly slower pace. I stupidly thought it was a really sensitive machine and it must have felt my sweater fall on it and fall off on the ground. I tried, repeatedly, to up the speed back to a workable pace and when that failed, I looked back to see if my sweater was somehow the culprit. Of course it was gone from behind the treadmill. I sighed, stopped my machine, and knelt down like a fool at the foot of the treadmill. Of course my sweater had somehow got stuck up in the rolling belt. Of course it got so stuck that I couldn't pull it out. I did hear some ripping when I tried though. One good thing about the darkness of the cardio cinema? No one can tell the exact idiot you're making of yourself. They have some sense of it but not an entire grasp of it.

I went to the front and asked for help. A really hot, gym guy came to help me and declared my sweater stuck. You don't say? He went for help from another really hot, gym guy ("the muscle" according to the first hot, gym guy), and they proceeded to laugh at me, stare in wonder at the predicament, laugh some more, and then use absurdly stupid boy logic to get the sweater out (i.e. pulling). The first guy told me, apologetically, that the sweater probably would not come out in the same condition it when in. As I'd already accepted that portion of future events, as any relatively cognizant person would, I told him not to worry about it. Between the two of them and many grunts they finally managed to pull the pretty, pink sweater from underneath the treadmill belt. The first hot guy fell backwards into an elliptical machine and almost made that person fall off, which sort of made the whole experience worth it for me (seeing one of those hot gym guys look like an uncoordinated ass at the gym? priceless), and held up a tattered, holey, ripped pink sweater that somewhat resembled the one I'd been wearing earlier. The second guy handed me a button he'd managed to retrieve - real funny - and they ambled off, still laughing.

And all I could think as I attempted to re-find my running groove (never happened) was that finally I had something to write about.

I also realize that if I wrote more often, I could have condensed that into a much funnier, briefer post but since I haven't written in a week, I figured blogspot could handle it.

Colbert Slays Me!

Last night was the best Colbert of all time. It's as if he directed his show to me. Or at least parts of it. There was Pope humor, Footprints humor (haha!), and best of all, Jane Austen humor. I died. I am officially dead now. It was awesome.

P.A.N.T.H.E.R.S.

Once again I'm taking the cheap way out and posting something I saw on Jezebel. Too bad. It's damn funny.

And then there was meat.

The meat story.

Guy called me at work seeking out some phone numbers and addresses. I went to a government agency's website and gave them to him (all stuff he could have done himself, which is not to say I wasn't happy to help but to signify how slight the help I gave him was).

A few days later an Admin walks in my office and tells me she has a package for me but can't open it and can she borrow my scissors? I hand them to her, she perches the package on the edge of my desk as she cuts into the the thing, starts to reach in the envelope, starts giggling (which made me look up from my oh-so-busy-and-time-consuming spreadsheet), and begins to pull out what I was certain was a ziploc bag full of black hair.

Upon further examination, which was difficult given that I'd slammed my chair (and myself) far across my office to get away from the bag of hair, we realized it was not hair but was, instead, some form of dried meat product.

My loud use of words and phrases (i.e. "what the fuck!" and "who the fuck sends shit like that in the mail?") attracted another co-worker to my office. When he realized it was a bag 'o meat, he reached his hand in, grabbed a hunk, tore into it like the savage beast (read: stupid) we all knew he was, and said "tasty" right before he walked back down the hall with the remaining hunk still clutched between his clammy, dumb hands. (Hands can be stupid - see: hands of a person who take random meat products out of unknown packages and feed them to said person's stupid mouth.)

There was a note inside that said the "meat" was homemade and thanks for helping aforementioned guy. But no notice as to what kind of meat product it was. The guy was from Arkansas and while I hate to be state-ist, who knows what they turn into edible products over there? Now I'm assuming it was a beef jerky of sorts but I have no way of knowing for sure.

Oh and did I mention that I don't eat beef? And just an fyi, although I wouldn't classify my job as dangerous, more than once my name or other people at my office's name has come up in correspondence to and from jail cells. Just saying.

Luckily the dumb co-worker didn't die. Luckily my office can't accept gifts. Luckily there's a homeless guy who hangs out right around the corner from my building. Luckily he was there, that fate meat day, and luckily he accepted my offer or dried meat product.

Long story short: grossest fucking day ever.

Unauthorized campaign literature...

I totally stole this from Jezebel. If you can't read it for some reason, check it out here.

It's freaking hilarious!

Long time, no post...

I haven't posted in oh, about 4 months (or is it 5?) mainly because a) no one was reading and b) I stopped having interesting things to say. Okay, I'm lying. It's pretty much only reason a. Anyway, squishy mentioned my blog so I thought I'll at least write something down if I have a funny. And I do.

I've taken to listening to Rush Limbaugh lately. No seriously. He's hilarious. I honestly had no idea why so many people listened to him but now I do - pure, unadulterated comedy. Granted I'm not sure he knows he's funny but I do. And I'll admit I'm a sore winner (or at least a sore presumed winner). But here's a direct/indirect quote from a caller today:

Caller: So, Rush, can this "religious fervor" over Barack Obama be sustained?
Rush: Absolutely not.
Me: Hahahahahahaha, snort, snort, guffaw, guffaw, hahahahahahaha.

This is funny on so many levels. I love the use of the phrase "religious fervor," because recently I've had two people try and convince me that Obama is Muslim. First, there's nothing wrong with him being Muslim, so get over it. And second he's not Muslim!! Damn fired Clinton staffer for putting out that damn email. But this little exchange between Rush and Caller is downright hysterical mainly due to the fact that for the past 8 years religious fervor has extended to create pretty much all the evil in the U.S., at least politically. Give me a scandal or a bad decision and I'll find you religious fervor as the a co-conspirator. Not to mention that religious fervor is the cornerstone of Karl Rove and the current administration. Surely the irony of the Caller's statement is not lost, nor the instant, adament response of Rush.

Like I said, pure, unadulterated comedy. Rush. Hee!