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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04

2001-08-01 ... 10:41 a.m.

I'm on the elliptical trainer thing at the gym (I know it's hard to picture me exercising, but shut up. Don't you want my sweet, supple ass to stay sweet and supple? Well alrighty then.), sweating and puffing as I make my elliptical way toward my fitness goal (which is very modest: my goal is to be Not Quite So Flabby. Basically I have a potato-shaped torso---well, okay, maybe more of an elongated yam---and feeble, sticklike arms and legs. Do you remember that science project where you prop a sweet potato up on toothpicks so its lower half is in a jar of water? That's me. I am the sweet potato with toothpicks on the sides. In case you are slow, I will spell it out: the sweet potato is my torso and the toothpicks are my limbs. By the way, what was that science project supposed to teach you?)

One more clarification and then I swear we'll get started. I used the present tense up there in a pretentious, writerly way. I am not this minute sweating and puffing on the elliptical trainer.

Tray tables up? Carry-on items stowed in the overhead bins or under the seat in front of you? Good.

The elliptical trainer has merit. It's kind of fun, and I like the fact that it's a very strange movement pattern that you could never do on the ground. Unless you were in zero gravity or something. (While we're speaking of space, did you know that Uranus is the only planet that spins on its side? All other planets spin clockwise or counterclockwise. Heh. Uranus.)

Could somebody FedEx me some Ritalin? I don't seem to be able to stay on topic today.

The gym has a whole lot of televisions. With the closed captioning, or apparently you can wear a Walkman and tune it to a certain frequency to hear the television. That seems like a lot of effort for crappy daytime TV, plus I enjoy talk shows with closed captioning, because there's nothing like trying to follow the poorly typed threads of really stupid people's conversations. Recently I have witnessed the following amazing topics on TV talk shows, while at the gym. I believe these are all from Jenny Jones, which is usually on when I go to the gym, which is odd because I go at all different times. Maybe the gym is an alternate universe where Jenny Jones is always on television. Mommy, I'm scared.

An episode wherein the audience and a panel of "judges" tried to guess whether the giant freak boobs of the guests were real or fake. Sigh.

An episode where skanks accused their skank friends of being too skanky. Literally. I think it was even titled "Girl, You're Too Skanky!" or something like that. For instance, one exotic dancer slagged off her friend, who was also an exotic dancer, for "going too far," or, I guess one could say, dancing too exotically. In essence, she claimed that her nude dancing around a pole was tasteful and artistic, but her friend's nude dancing around a pole was slutty. The friend hotly denied this.

An episode titled "Player or Chickenhead?" where the audience judged, and held up signs indicating their judgment, whether someone was a player or a chickenhead. I think I have a handle on the definition of "player," but chickenhead? What the hell? And of course it was impossible to deduce from context, between the garbled closed captioning and the sweat dripping in my eyes. If you are hipper than I am (and it wouldn't take much), please e-mail and tell me what a chickenhead is. Apparently it is not a chicken's head.

And finally, the loveliest little moment of all my at-the-gym talk show moments: When they (they, you know, they) introduce someone in a talk show, his or her name usually appears on screen, with a little summary underneath, such as "Ginger: Thinks She's All That" or D'W'ay'ne: Pimping His Baby's Momma" etc. I glance up at the screen this particular day and see the words "Greg: Has No Clue." I couldn't have put it better myself.

---mimi smartypants


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