Archive for October 1st, 2007

Day one at the apartment gym

So the new apartment has a gym. And not any kind of apartment gym that may as well be a closet with some equipment in it. You can actually breathe in this one. And there’s a great view of all the foliage and the creek surrounding the complex. I have to say all of this makes life a little easier working out.

Prior to this gym, I was working out at Curves. Yes, as you may have stereotypically pegged — Curves is really more for the mature ladies. I used to think this was just a stigma that was attached to Curves by the naysayers of their 30-minute circuit approach. But I think I was the only under 40 chick there and the only one that wasn’t a school teacher. And even though they tell you that 30-minute circuit is as good as a REAL gym, I think they are wrong. I never felt like I really pushed it like I would at a regular gym.

Plus one thing all Curves around here share is crazy hours not fit for chick that has no real set 9 to 5 schedule. The hours are only fit for who my father says are “respectable women.” Don’t misunderstand. He’s not saying I’m not respectable (well I don’t care if I’m not, hahaha) but that mainly that’s the whole angle of the Curves franchise. The hours are pretty much for housewives, teachers, secretaries and veterinarians. Anyway, I’ll miss those ladies and their crazy neighborhood gossip

Other than fighting off a spider hanging from the lat machine, the workout went well and I’m sure the thighs will be sore in the morning. I like the burn. And I have to add that all of this is either ironic or appropriate after going on about the food at the fair earlier today.

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I hear assistant living calling

I just had one of those moments I dread.

I’m guilty of a little short-term memory every now and then. We all are I suppose. But I just did something I’ve feared my whole life. I repeated myself. When I say repeat, I don’t mean verbally. I mean that I printed off an email. Put it in a folder. And then went to the copier 15 minutes later looking for it as if the prior actions never happened. I asked a co-worker who was leaving the printer if he saw it and he said no. So I printed it again only to file it back in the folder I had filed the earlier one already.

Hello geriatrics. Please save a bed for me.

I lost my wiener at the State Fair.

I just stood there with the stick still in my hand as the fluff of buttery batter goodness stared up at me, all naked. I looked down and the rest of my wiener just laid there on the ground, cold and jilted. Oh well, I made up for it with a frozen lemonade later.

Hey, Big Tex!Yes folks. It’s fair time again and I will have to admit that this is only the second year I’ve been to the fair. My folks weren’t that into it when I was a young J. My father just claims he wanted to see the livestock but apparently I wasn’t excited at the idea of smelling pig shit. I’m finally braving the fair because having a media pass makes it a little easier and gives you a reason to go being that it’s kinda work-related. And of course the corny dogs are another motivation. But you can’t just go to any corny dog pagoda. No. No. It’s gotta be the one that has the word FAMOUS emblazoned on it. And little ketchup and mustard kiosks all around. It’s like a little wiener heaven.

Right out of the gate I have to tell you that the carnies that greet you and direct you where to park are sheer caricatures of themselves — people you would think of in a comedy sketch or something. Each with personalities topping one another. One older gentleman kept calling me baby as we drove though the credentials line. And one lady with no teeth flagged down my car as we were leaving, yelling at me “DON’T GO THAT WAY. HEY! DON’T GO THAT WAY!” We shivered in fear.

Anywho, back to the food. Don’t try anything called “fried cookie dough.” If you don’t believe me, here’s a picture of it. That stuff will turn your stomach. Luckily I just tasted my coworker’s batch. And that small bite was enough. You just can’t FRY everything. Why do YUCK!!!fairs think they can fry everything? I mean I saw fried queso, fried guacamole, fried coke (which I tried as well and nearly ralphed at the picnic table. It swims in syrup at the bottom! How gross is that?) and at one point I was expecting to see fried chitterlings  (not impossible) or fried beer (hum, that wouldn’t be so bad.) Every year I think the fair tries to top itself on the yuck factor.

But my old standard turkey leg and funnel cake can never go wrong so this week I’m partaking — if anything just to erase last weekend’s food disasters from my brain. But damn this all gets expensive. For every dollar you spend on coupons you are losing like five. Wait. That’s not right. It just feels that way. I spent 10 coupons on a lousy margarita (not recommended if it comes out of one of those punch-type fountains) which really means I spent five bucks. What a waste. By the time I got on the Skyway I lost my 5-minute buzz. Just enough to half-way enjoy a mediocre car show where a NFL truck with a plasma, grill, and pigskin seats in the shape of footballs with little televisions in the headrests is what Texans call luxury.

Wait, back to food. Picture about 90 degrees out, sun blazing, and a parking lot full of steaming, spicy chili. Not really the best time of year for it but did I ever sample. I’m usually funny about eating a stranger’s food but for some reason free in the midst of State Fair highway robbery just appeals to me. By the time we waddled to my car, I was just thinking about the gut busting that would possibly follow that night. Hasn’t hit me yet. But hopefully if it does, it will wait until after work.