I type this with one goal in mind: get to the end. Fast.
I type this with one goal in mind: get to the end. Fast.
Like the potent, sour smell of the men’s room in the mall, I’m back.
It’s been a while since I felt the need to post here. To be honest, I still don’t feel the need to post here, yet here we are.
The following is a conversation I had with my editor yesterday. I sort of took her advice.
Me: Guess what, I did it!
Stacy B: Did what?
Me: I went back to the gym.
Stacy B: Oh.
Me: I’m going to write a blog post about it.
Stacy B: Hmmm… Literally, no one will care.
Me: Why not? It had been over a year of daily COVID beers, very little exercise, and the fewest miles ridden on my bike in over 25 years; don’t you think people will want to read about it?
Stacy B: No.
Me: Seriously?
Stacy B: Seriously, no.
Me: So you’re saying that even if I tell the world about the beginnings of Operation Pec-Lift II and how the gym was better than I thought in COVID times—especially being fully vaccinated—that no one will want to read about it?
Stacy B: I can’t imagine someone bored enough to read about some non-athlete dad going to the gym to lift a few weights. But what do I know? I just work here. Do you have any coupons or bottle slips?
Me: No.
Stacy B: That’ll be $124.98. Cash back?
Me: No thanks.
Stacy B: Good luck with your exercising and stuff. You might want to try cutting back on empty calories and maybe do some incline chest presses.
Me: Yeah… yeah. Thanks. Are you sure that no one…
Stacy B: NO!!!!
Me: OK!! OK!! Thanks.
Stacy B: Thanks for shopping at Meijer.
Later.
I have a resume of skills, talents, and responsibilities as long as an ill-written curt note stuck on a cafeteria vending machine, yet I can’t find the time or want to get outside and or write a blog post. Lucky you!
Well, we’re back from Indiana, and I’m hitting the ground running like a freshly excreted dog turd onto a frosty spring lawn.
The four-day trip into America’s heartland of COVID negligence for a soccer tournament was better than I thought (in that it happened at all) and just as bad as I thought (aforementioned negligence, combined with COVID fuckedupedness and guilt).
I’ll explain a bit.
My time to get out for some junk miles has been very limited as of late due to weather and time, mostly time. There has been too much going on this week, including a 3 day trip to Indiana for the Crossroads of America College Showcase soccer tournament, that at this point (7:30 AM Thursday), we still don’t know if we’re going because of COVID related issues with 1/4 of the team.
Note: This is the last SIT. It was a dumb idea, sort of. The pics will now be in Soiled Fotos portfolio under Random.
Life Mission: Art my way through the mundane.
Also, eat yummy food!
I rode my bike two days in a row.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA! Before uncomfortable white guy high fives and fist bumps are presented to me like we’re a couple of jaoffs watching fake basketball games in a Papa John’s commercial, let me say they both sucked. Sucked real hard.
Monday was Monday, with not much to do other than husbandly duties (not code for sex) and a mid-afternoon appointment with the O.G. Mindbender. Tuesday was very Tuesday-like, barring a mid-morning appointment with The Crappest Doctor in The World1.