My arms hurt. A lot. And it’s not ’cause I just flew in from Albuquerque or anything, although that would be AWESOME, ’cause it’s warm down there, and even I’ve had about enough of winter at this point. (Sarah’s flying to Florida tomorrow. I hate her.)
No, my arms hurt because I realized that I had ballooned up to my pre-diet weight of last spring, and that if I wanted to stop going back and forth like some mutant child of Oprah and John Kerry, I needed to start working out. This also has the side benefit of making me really chiseled and cut, so I can stop the bigger kids from beating me up all the time.
So yesterday afternoon, I dragged my weary carcass to the gym, where I warmed up a bit on an exercise bike, and then launched into a flurry of stretching, lifting, pulling, throwing, punching, humpty-dancing, drinking roughly 40 gallons of water, and having as many as three heart attacks, depending on whether that last one was just acid reflux from all the cheese I ate with lunch. Apparently I need to figure out a way of stretching my triceps muscles after the workout, because right now they are in agonizing pain. I can barely move them. I woke up in the middle of the night to use the john and thought I’d dislocated something. (In my arms, you perv.)
I was hoping to start a regular Monday, Wednesday, and Friday workout schedule, but I may never be able to make my arms work again, which would make it difficult to exercise. Oh well. Perhaps I’ll take up yoga. Except that it involves stretching and breathing, and I hate stretching almost as much as I hate breathing. WHY, OH WHY CAN I NOT GET MY OXYGEN THROUGH ALVEOLI ON THE SURFACE OF MY HEAD!!! The chicks would totally dig it.
Ooh…yeah…that’s it…here comes the random spouts of crap:
- Go here. The first one is pretty good, but definitely listen to the second one. I peed my pants repeatedly. Seriously, man, my ergonomic chair is sopping.
- I was reading the other day where some folks were arguing that the high gas prices we’re currently experiencing indicate that we are in need of a “regime change,” meaning, they think if we take Dubya out of office, gas prices will go back down?
Um…wha?
The people that I read saying these things are, almost to a man, the same people that for the past two years have been saying “We only invaded Iraq for the oil!” Well, if that’s true, wouldn’t we actually be experiencing cheaper oil prices? I’m no Alan Turing, but even my moldy brain can spot hypocrisy of that level. (My own hypocrisies are well known, particularly the one in which no one should be permitted to have a driver’s license but me and the few worth individuals I designate, despite the fact that my own driving record is spottier than a leopard.)
Interestingly enough, many of the same folks say that we shouldn’t drill for oil in “wildlife preserves,” despite the fact that the only thing that makes them “preserved” is some government entity saying so. Were I Lord and Master of All I Survey, I’d just say, “Okay, well, that part’s no longer preserved. Get to drilling. This other part over here, where there isn’t any oil, is now the preserved area. Good times for all.”
None of this changes the fact that I’m considering selling my truck because I realized it costs me upwards of $2000 a year to fuel it.
- New washing machine = superw00t. Even better was that we were able to maneuver the washer and dryer in the laundry room to a position that makes more sense. When we arrived at the house, the existing washer was positioned in a way that we couldn’t put the dryer next to it without moving the washer out of the way first, so I could have access to the dryer exhaust vent and stuff. We didn’t feel like doing that, so we just slud the dryer in there sort of catty-corner in such a way that you couldn’t actually stand in the room with a basket to unload and reload things.
When we moved the old washer out, I moved the dryer to the ideal position, and then the new washer slud in right next to it. Bim, bam, boom, as Percy Faith would say. Now there’s all kinds of room to stand in there, and as a benefit, one of the holes that the cats would crawl through to sneak into the laundry room and throw up on things is now blocked off by the dryer. So those little devils are THWARTED.
- I have had my hair trimmed to look like this:
And HW helped me install some highlights last night. (And I wonder why everyone thinks I’m gay.) I look totally hot, although the hair product I’m using today is kinda lame; it makes my hair all wet-looking and greasy, and it doesn’t clump up like Jesse’s does in the photo. I’ll keep working on that, possibly with some hard core Butch wax type stuff I have left over from when I was spiking my jaunpiece up. What I really need is some Brylcreem . . . I’ve got my overhead lifters and four-barrel quads oh yeah . . .
- I wrote a nasty gram to the OpEd page at the News Journal over this whiny tripe. Seems a bunch of people in North Wilmington are in an uproar over noise from planes flying into Philadelphia Airport, which, last I checked is roughly 20 miles north. Given the small amount I know about aircraft flight paths, that puts them over North Wilmington at a height of several thousand feet.
My letter basically said, “Stop being whiny punks or I’ll drive to your house and give you something to REALLY cry about.” That’s not a verbatim quote, but I’m hoping I still get published in tomorrow’s paper. It might even be enough to convince me to buy one, although probably not.
I guess I’m going to have to settle in to a “3 posts a week” cycle for a while, since things are just busy busy busy busy beeeee. Various important bits of info:
- Sears is both cool and outrageously sucky. We got a guy to come out and look at our broken washing machine, with the following result: “We no longer make parts for that thing. What is it, like 25 years old? That’ll be $65 please.” Great. Upside: he gave us a coupon for $65 off any appliance at any Sears.
“Does this work at the outlet over across from University Plaza?” I ask.
“Should. At least, they told me it does.”
Ah, they. Someday, I’m going to meet they and kick they right in the jubblies.
So last night we went to the outlet store and selected a nice Kenmore washer for $329, and discovered that the coupon was useless at the outlet store. Thanks, Sears; thanks a panload. That reminds me, I need to give the pertinent information to Hearnwife so she can call and yell at them. (I’m too meek and mild-mannered, don’t you know.)
- We ripped up all the carpeting, pad, tack strips, and various staples in our bedroom. The floor looks great, except for a few imperfections: the carpeting had covered up a hideous job of installing a marble floor piece in the doorframe to the bathroom, so there’s all kinds of crumbling concrete visible; and the previous owners apparently didn’t like squeaky floors, so throughout the room there’s random nails and SCREWS (freakin’ SCREWS? WTF?) in the floor, some of which stick out a 1/4″ or so.
I’m hoping to cover up the nasty concrete jaunt by the bathroom door by shaping a piece of wood to act as a small ramp (so I’ll stop kicking the marble as I go over it), and hopefully I’ll be able to get some of the screws out (many of the heads are stripped). Still, it looks totally awesome. Pictures to come, I hopes.
- I haven’t been to the high school for rehearsal in over a week ’cause it keep snowing me out. I’m going on Thursday to work the pit band over a little more; hopefully they won’t be sucking. The chorus should be fine, their stuff is easy, they’ve known it for weeks. Bless my father for agreeing to play piano for this show . . . anyway, come see “Cinderella” at Brandywine High School, 3/17-19 at 7pm, with a 2pm matinee on 3/19. Tickets are 8 bucks, I’m told.
