"What is up with Carrie Anne Baker? She's got that look like she fell out of the I'm-gonna-suck-your-dick-tree and hit every branch on the way down."
-Varsity Blues
-Varsity Blues
Let's just start at the beginning and find our way down to a shocking ending. There is nothing like a good hard nasty shock to finish off the day, folks. Nothing.
So, I wake up at just a little after 9am and head on down the stairs to find that I got a call, one I've been hoping for. It was to see the head director of the fitness place I'm hoping will have me as an employee. Shouts of 'whoopee' were playing in my head as I tried to stay calm. The best way to do that is hit the 'Net and find out the latest scandal from our shit-for-brains president and then catch up on blogs.
I don't know. I'm not the nervous type over job interviews. Hell, I kind of love them since I meet people that I even become friends with. It's just that I want to be a mock personal trainer type all because I'm so calm in the gym. It is, after all, my second home away from home on cold days. Some would say that a nice fire is inviting while it snows but I say time spent pumping iron while the white stuff accumulates is more relaxing. On sunny days, I'm outside so I'm not insane.
This is new to me. Like I said before, it's a very upscale place, the gym. They weren't kidding when it was stated how they go all out. There are nutrition classes in a small classroom, the Spin Class is in an air conditioned room (ours is in front of a gigantic fan because of NO air conditioning), the locker rooms look like they are clean (we had a giant urine spill when the urinal flooded), there are large flat screen TVs in the cardio area, and a receptionist takes your calls instead of big sweaty men confused and looking like evolution skipped them. It's just freakin' different, yo.
While I'd love to help people work out or find the correct methods, an upscale gym is kind of scary. I'm experienced in dealing with wealthy people, etc. and know the good and bad. Many have very arrogant opinions of themselves and do not like it when you show that they are actually wrong. Others are amazing because educated people can bring out things you don't normally get to say when your used to people (mostly southern) heavily in love with Nascar. I love the movie, Talladega Nights, but don't find myself quoting it all the time even if that "I like to think of Jesus as a mischievous badger" is fucking hilarious.
Maybe I'm just chalking up nervousness so who knows. It's just weird to see a large class of senior citizen sitting on plastic balls and opening/closing their legs with an instructor's orders. The fumes! The fumes!
After the interview, I felt a little high on happiness. What better way to relax this by a run with 5-Pound Phooey and finding myself in pursuit of grot? Run, run away with a small dog that enjoys pooping/peeing in as many yards as possible! Get in that car and visit the only porn stores left by going into another town. Why do they have to put these places so far away? Porn stores are safer in front of a school than a church but that's my opinion. Saves the psyches of altar boys everywhere.
You must know one thing. I'm not huge on porn. You won't find a large assortment of DVDs that would make your mother faint. That would be my girlfriend, Sara. She can talk about her love of Jenna Jameson all day if you ask nicely (spanking works, too). It's just that our road trip to Dragon Con (convention for sci-fi, gaming, and comic geeks) in Georgia would say it best. We, Sara, Chris, and Carrie, are not freaked out about the sight of large penises squirting semen, images of women with legs wide open, lube, fleshlights (looks like a flashlight but men stick their dicks in them to resemble you-know-whats), plastic vaginas, women on their knees as a circle of penises ejaculate, people peeing on each other, edible panties, and sexy-sexy lingerie. In fact, the trip to this porn store in Tennessee actually helped stop the other couple from arguing the rest of the way home, almost 5 hours. Porn helps. If only the religious freaks would learn this, we'd stop having wars.
I got the Debbie Does Dallas Again DVD. Yay, me. As if the stereotype of porn star workers couldn't get more obvious, she barely had any teeth. You just couldn't look away, man. I love a good mission accomplished and no more need for grot. Sara, though, is really curious and happy that I made a porn purchase.
And now the shock that came right before I went to my early evening gym session. My mum has cancer. After waiting for 3 days about the Monday biopsy, the results were given. It's small but it's fucking cancer. Up next is for her to go through surgery to take it out. Fucking weirded me out in the gym because I felt so numb.
Yeah, I pretty much went through my paces to get a good pump going in my biceps. Nothing but numbness because I'm still in shock. It's been assured that surgery would make everything all hunky-dory but I'm too careful and not skeptical enough. I've told 2 friends in the gym, the little Japanese girl leaving for Pennsylvania and Slutwatcher. I don't give him enough credit because not only was he pretty expressive on how awful he felt but he even took time off his usual calling pretty girls 'sluts' by saying how nice a certain girl's eyes were. Slutwatcher's not a horrible guy but one with a very bad experience that has pretty much sent him this way, his fiancee cheated on him.
So, that's been my day. I'd been wanting to send notes and comments but I've been so busy. Sammy, I am awaiting your allowing my precious blue eyes to read your blog. Zu's been working on my stats meter (way cool with the map) so I get more geography lessons. It's slowly getting to the feeling we had on Diaryland, that closeness of being a group. Naw, I'm not gonna get all sentimental but say that I like Blogspot for now.
I'm outta here as I might take this Debbie Does Dallas for a test drive. I've also got that trip to Indiana tomorrow since I haven't seen Sara in a long time and Spiderman 3 plays. Geeks with dreams of owning web shooters but going against the stereotype of not having girlfriends need a place to forget about how much damage our shit-for-brains president is doing. Plus, that recent story in the local paper on honeybees disappearing sickens me. Who else makes this world as pretty as it once was? Save the bees and stop abusing cell phones. Happy twats all around.
So, I wake up at just a little after 9am and head on down the stairs to find that I got a call, one I've been hoping for. It was to see the head director of the fitness place I'm hoping will have me as an employee. Shouts of 'whoopee' were playing in my head as I tried to stay calm. The best way to do that is hit the 'Net and find out the latest scandal from our shit-for-brains president and then catch up on blogs.
I don't know. I'm not the nervous type over job interviews. Hell, I kind of love them since I meet people that I even become friends with. It's just that I want to be a mock personal trainer type all because I'm so calm in the gym. It is, after all, my second home away from home on cold days. Some would say that a nice fire is inviting while it snows but I say time spent pumping iron while the white stuff accumulates is more relaxing. On sunny days, I'm outside so I'm not insane.
This is new to me. Like I said before, it's a very upscale place, the gym. They weren't kidding when it was stated how they go all out. There are nutrition classes in a small classroom, the Spin Class is in an air conditioned room (ours is in front of a gigantic fan because of NO air conditioning), the locker rooms look like they are clean (we had a giant urine spill when the urinal flooded), there are large flat screen TVs in the cardio area, and a receptionist takes your calls instead of big sweaty men confused and looking like evolution skipped them. It's just freakin' different, yo.
While I'd love to help people work out or find the correct methods, an upscale gym is kind of scary. I'm experienced in dealing with wealthy people, etc. and know the good and bad. Many have very arrogant opinions of themselves and do not like it when you show that they are actually wrong. Others are amazing because educated people can bring out things you don't normally get to say when your used to people (mostly southern) heavily in love with Nascar. I love the movie, Talladega Nights, but don't find myself quoting it all the time even if that "I like to think of Jesus as a mischievous badger" is fucking hilarious.
Maybe I'm just chalking up nervousness so who knows. It's just weird to see a large class of senior citizen sitting on plastic balls and opening/closing their legs with an instructor's orders. The fumes! The fumes!
After the interview, I felt a little high on happiness. What better way to relax this by a run with 5-Pound Phooey and finding myself in pursuit of grot? Run, run away with a small dog that enjoys pooping/peeing in as many yards as possible! Get in that car and visit the only porn stores left by going into another town. Why do they have to put these places so far away? Porn stores are safer in front of a school than a church but that's my opinion. Saves the psyches of altar boys everywhere.
You must know one thing. I'm not huge on porn. You won't find a large assortment of DVDs that would make your mother faint. That would be my girlfriend, Sara. She can talk about her love of Jenna Jameson all day if you ask nicely (spanking works, too). It's just that our road trip to Dragon Con (convention for sci-fi, gaming, and comic geeks) in Georgia would say it best. We, Sara, Chris, and Carrie, are not freaked out about the sight of large penises squirting semen, images of women with legs wide open, lube, fleshlights (looks like a flashlight but men stick their dicks in them to resemble you-know-whats), plastic vaginas, women on their knees as a circle of penises ejaculate, people peeing on each other, edible panties, and sexy-sexy lingerie. In fact, the trip to this porn store in Tennessee actually helped stop the other couple from arguing the rest of the way home, almost 5 hours. Porn helps. If only the religious freaks would learn this, we'd stop having wars.
I got the Debbie Does Dallas Again DVD. Yay, me. As if the stereotype of porn star workers couldn't get more obvious, she barely had any teeth. You just couldn't look away, man. I love a good mission accomplished and no more need for grot. Sara, though, is really curious and happy that I made a porn purchase.
And now the shock that came right before I went to my early evening gym session. My mum has cancer. After waiting for 3 days about the Monday biopsy, the results were given. It's small but it's fucking cancer. Up next is for her to go through surgery to take it out. Fucking weirded me out in the gym because I felt so numb.
Yeah, I pretty much went through my paces to get a good pump going in my biceps. Nothing but numbness because I'm still in shock. It's been assured that surgery would make everything all hunky-dory but I'm too careful and not skeptical enough. I've told 2 friends in the gym, the little Japanese girl leaving for Pennsylvania and Slutwatcher. I don't give him enough credit because not only was he pretty expressive on how awful he felt but he even took time off his usual calling pretty girls 'sluts' by saying how nice a certain girl's eyes were. Slutwatcher's not a horrible guy but one with a very bad experience that has pretty much sent him this way, his fiancee cheated on him.
So, that's been my day. I'd been wanting to send notes and comments but I've been so busy. Sammy, I am awaiting your allowing my precious blue eyes to read your blog. Zu's been working on my stats meter (way cool with the map) so I get more geography lessons. It's slowly getting to the feeling we had on Diaryland, that closeness of being a group. Naw, I'm not gonna get all sentimental but say that I like Blogspot for now.
I'm outta here as I might take this Debbie Does Dallas for a test drive. I've also got that trip to Indiana tomorrow since I haven't seen Sara in a long time and Spiderman 3 plays. Geeks with dreams of owning web shooters but going against the stereotype of not having girlfriends need a place to forget about how much damage our shit-for-brains president is doing. Plus, that recent story in the local paper on honeybees disappearing sickens me. Who else makes this world as pretty as it once was? Save the bees and stop abusing cell phones. Happy twats all around.
3 comments:
Oh honey, I'm sorry about your mom. It sounds like it's not in the lymph nodes, huh, and that they can just do a lumpectomy? If you want to learn more, there's a great book called "Doctor Susan Love's Breast Book." Also, there are non-profit organizations - my personal favorite is Breast Cancer Action (BCA.) I know many women who've beat breast cancer.. and here's to your mom being another who does! Much love to you.
-Zuzu
So sorry to hear about your mom Mike. But it sounds like they may have got it early enough to take care of it. Hopefully, she'll be fine, but I'll be thinking of her from way down here.
And good luck on the job.
Sorry to hear about your mom. Hopefully the surgery will take care of it. It usually does, in many cases, so she'll be a breast cancer survivor like all the other thousands who are. :)
Good luck with the job. I've learned not to combine work and play (i.e. I wouldn't take a writing job because it totally puts me off writing in my free time), but it seems to work for others.
Erm, yeah. My blog's up and running, Dland just won't LET ME UPDATE.
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