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Here are some things that have irked me this week.
* (Our former) ChineseFoodPlace is slated to re-open. The place is supposedly sanitized and someone has to go to a food safety course WITHIN SIX MONTHS and well, it’s a wonder I never got food poisoning; a quick web search showed the laundry list of violations. I made a PB&J for lunch today.
* Sunday, we had The Mister’s Family over for the football game. The annoyances were many:
*Steve’s Favorite Cousin has two kids (surprisingly, that’s not the bothersome). SFC sets up shop in my living room, pulling out some toddler books and My Little Ponies (still not the bothersome). “Oh, I hope you don’t mind!”, SFC chirps. (yes, I’m infuriated that you brought something to entertain your kids with)
“No, no bother!”, says I, “I didn’t know if I should have pulled some toys out of the attic…”
SFC has this, thing, where she is like, insane about kids and how super-ultra-wonderful-exciting-fantastical they are. I’m not doubting that, I’m sure chitlins are awesome. SFC laughs and says, “Oh, just you wait, you’ll understand when you have kids; you bring toys everywhere!”
It’s pretty hard to offend me nowadays, but seriously? WTF? Are you implying that because I do not have children I COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND why ANYONE would bring TOYS with THEIR CHILDREN.
God, I am SO dumb!
* Steve’s uncles and kid were supposed to stop over, so Steve’s Mom made a HUGE thing of taco dip. They didn’t show. They said they were going to, but didn’t.
* SFC, et al, left before half-time and after food had been ordered. When you say you’re staying for “The Game” isn’t that the whole game?
* SFC also stayed upstairs, keeping an eye on her kids, despite all the other adults being social in the finished basement. Steve’s Mom loves kids and vice-versa. Given the opportunity to have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around singing the alphabet and you bail?
* I thought the farmers market would still be going on, so I didn’t tell ask Steve to pick up any apples while at the grocery.
* I found pants I L-O-V-E. They fit, they’re super flattering and I can not find them anymore, despite buying them like, two weeks ago. NY&Co. 7th Avenue, high-waist, super flare Career Pants, I love you. Not to mention that you fit me in a way which requires the purchase of a smaller size.
* People saying, “Um-hum” in a degrading/disbelieving way when you suggest something that is teh awesome.
*Sunday morning I went to the gym. It is Tuesday morning, and my abs still hurt. A lot. And I’m going today before voting.
Dear Fellow Gym Members:
To whom it may concern and I’m talking to those of you who use the ENTIRE cardio machine for support.
Seriously?
You have the treadmill at at 90% incline, but you’re using the whole command center as a tether.
Really? You think you’re getting a workout? How about this… why don’t you try a 20% incline, use the provided grips and don’t tear the face off the control panel.
You almost seem surprised that some of the cardio equipment is broken… I don’t get it.
Dear Fellow Gym Members:
While on the cardio equipment, please do not glare at me if I pant a bit while on the machine next to you.
Did you notice that I’m out of shape?
Of course you did, I saw you peek at my weight and skill level.
What you don’t know is that I will punch you in the face from my ArcTrainer.
Dear Loud Talking (cell phone or otherwise) Fellow Gym Members:
Apple made the iPod to only go so loud. If I am listening to Slipknot and my Pod’s at max level and I can still hear your conversation about how you had a salad for lunch everyday this week, you have more of a problem then breaking a sweat.
Dear Gross Sweaty Fellow Gym Members:
Two things.
One: If you’re sweaty, that’s cool, but please, for the love of god, wipe down WHATEVER it is that you’re using.
Two: I sweat. Don’t act like you don’t. And stop looking away like “Ew, I can’t believe that woman is sweating.” I’ll come over by you and do my post-workout stretching near you, making sure to exhale over my armpit in your general direction.
Thank You.
Melissa and I are tearing things up on the treadmills when this older gentleman takes roost at the mill to my right.
Shortly thereafter, we notice a repugnant smell.
“Bed of roses” is not even close.
We try not to gag as we round out the second mile.
I look over my shoulder and the man is sweating like two rats in a wool sock; very Flashdance-esque.
Finally he and his stench leave.
I look over at the treadmill.
It’s covered in sweat. Stinky sweat. And it’s creator is no where in sight. (sometimes one needs to wander to find a spray bottle/wiping towel)
The man left his sweat all over the console, only to pool in the magazine/book holder.
I am so not kidding when I say that I almost threw up.
Gym Etiquette 101: ALWAYS WIPE DOWN YOUR MACHINE.
After the migraine passed (read: nap), I headed out to get some things.
Back at the truck, I notice it’s eight and I’m arguing with myself about going to the gym.
The “go to the gym” voice won.
I’m going through the weights and I’m on the weird-elliptical-incline-thing, trying to figure out how I can avoid doing the whole thirty minute cardio-fest.
I look up at one of the five televisions and there is a commercial on that is very very very closely related to The Goal I’m working towards.
Yes, Universe, I got the message.
As you may recall, the Cybex Arc Trainer and I had a bit of tussle a while ago.
(viewable naw in case you missed it)
Let me tell you what new-fangled-torture-device: I am on to you.
I know your game and I’m gonna play it. easy-medium-hard-easy-hard-medium-hard-easy-medium-hard-etc.
Yeah, were you surprised that I went a whole 27 minutes on level three today? Were you?
How about when I wanted to keep running, or whatever it is, after the work out was done?
Oh, you made me break a sweat today Arc Trainer, but next time we meet, I’m going all the way up to level 5. Maybe 6.
WHO KNOWS?!?!
All I know is this Cybex Arc Trainer, my ass is yours.
Dear Woman Two Treadmills Over,
WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TALK SO LOUD ON YOUR CELL PHONE?!?!
I had to turn my iPod up to drown you out, not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES because you were trying to talk over the noise of your fit legs and feet stomping on the “superquiet” surface.
I understand that the gym is a public space and you’re welcome to talk on your phone, but I think it’s safe to say that the entire gym heard about your plans for the weekend.
Good luck on your date and I hope you got laid.
- Out of Shape Girl Two Treadmills Over
Dear Woman Who Brought Your Kid into the Women’s Only Area,
First and foremost, if you can’t control your kid, they shouldn’t be in a gym.
I am not a mother, but I do know that boys are instinctively destructive and for this reason, you certainly should not have let him “work out” on machines designed for adults.
And while I’m sure it’s “cute” that your monster bashes the weights down on the abductor, I happen to like to use that machine and if I find out that I can’t use it because the weights are broken, I’m going to crush your head between my thighs and not in any kind of kinky/sensual way.
Secondly, the room that says “Women Only Workout Area” is for women only. Granted your spawn looked like he could have passed as a girl, but if I wanted some pervert to watch me work-out (I don’t care how old he is, I DO NOT like being watched), I would have hired a trainer.
Do you have any idea how close I was to going to the front desk with your many violations? Yeah, thisclose.
Let me add that telling your child not to do that (whatever “that” may be at the time) does not constitute discipline.
Keep your brat out of the gym.
- The Girl who was Shooting You Dirty Looks
Between machines, Mental Image Stephanie is cheering me on.
Who’s hot?
Who’s fierce?
Who’s kicking butt?
I sit down at a contraption I saw from the bicep curl (you would THINK that after the Arc Trainer, PERHAPS I would have known better…)
“Deltoid/Pec Fly”
And as I’m setting the machine up and finding out where my tolerance is, another voice chimes in.
Stay away from exercises that make you have a flying motion.
Insert flashback music…
I am at the PT’s office, receiving treatment for what we think is a rotator cuff tear in my right arm. We’ve gone as far as we can and he shows me some things I can do to help build the muscles in the area. “Now remember Stephanie, stay away from exercises that make you have a flying motion.”
Return to the present.
Mental Image Stephanie suggests that maybe we shouldn’t do this.
Current Stephanie says that the injury was from 2004, it is now 2008 and I’m sure I’m fine.
Mental Image Stephanie was right.
Now that I look back at my activities last night, I was totally not using my right arm. And I’m right handed.
This explains why I did not sleep well last night and why it’s not pleasant to move my arm more then fifteen degrees.
Stupid voice in my head, always being right….
I feel the need to tell you about my new nemesis at the gym.
Oh, sure, the hamstring curl machine and I don’t get along and once I get the strength to throw the overhead triceps machine out the window, I will.
However, last night I decided to try a new cardio machine that I had been watching from across the way.
The above picture would be of a Cybex Arc Trainer.
It looked fairly easy and like it allowed for a full range of motion.
I step onto the machine and am instantly lunged forward. I think my face selected “fat burner” from the menu and I was off for a 25 minute stride.
Chugging along, I was thinking that this wasn’t such a bad idea. Then there came a noise from the fly wheel and suddenly, my comfortable floating became labored and I grabbed onto the handrails for support.
A few minutes later, there was more grinding and my strides became graceful again. While this sounds good, it again caused me to lurch into the display.
This on-again-off-again continued for the full 25 minutes and the last five minutes of the ride, I really had to push myself to not puss out and quit.
Dripping, but content, I checked the workout summary.
1.5 miles, 206 calories.
In 25 minutes.
This may not sound fantastic, but I usually burn about 100 calories in a mile on the treadmill/elliptical in the same amount of time.
By the time I got done cleaning out the office and crawled into bed, my butt hurt like no ones business.
Dear Arc Trainer,
I hate you but I love you at the same time.
Last week, somewhere in Ohio:
me: Can you get the info to scroll on XM?
him, producing a lot productive sounding beeps: There you go.
me: Cool. Thanks. What’d you do?
him, cocky: I’m not telling.
me, turning to a techno channel and turning the volume up: Oh, I think you will tell me.
him (no sooner do three “doop-doop-doop”s get out): OKAY OKAY, I’ll talk! I’ll talk.
me, turning back to the classic rock station: We have ways of making you talk.
Also Yesterday (bit #2)
I joined the gym.
Yes, really.
I’m almost kind of excited.
Almost.
Provided my melted iPod works.
And (bit .5)
I have a craving for Take-Out.
Crab Ragoons and Egg Drop Soup.
Come on hips, haven’t you had enough?
Peeps is sayin'