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Jan. 22nd, 2011 09:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jianantonicOn paper, things are so much worse than they were for me a few months ago. But I feel so much better. My bad moods are still better than my neutral moods from last fall. I sat with Gail at last night's game, and we spent some time snarking about bridge players, which is what we always do when we hang out, but it felt different. I wasn't really invested in the snark. It was more like I realized I have these opinions about certain people, and therefore I probably shouldn't spend much time thinking about them anymore. So we snarked and laughed and moved on -- whereas in the past, I would've gotten all worked up, feeding off the negativity of the snarkfest, and cultivating hatred. I'm not putting snarkiness behind me -- it's part of who I am and it's fun at times -- but I'm changing the way I experience and embrace it. Let's face it; I'll never be Susie Sunshine, and I think that's really a good thing.
Speaking of snarkiness...I wrote half a standup act on the treadmill yesterday at the gym, based on this meathead next to me. I am really judgmental at the gym, but not of the people you'd expect. Really out of shape folks in there sweating buckets trying to get healthy for the first time ever? Good for you guys! My judgment is aimed at all the gym princesses -- male and female -- for whom it's not enough to be fit; they have to be seen. They wear attention-grabbing outfits, they prance around the facility, they grunt and yell for themselves, and they do things like this guy yesterday... I was on a treadmill in one of the smaller weight rooms, situated between an elliptical-type apparatus and a weight machine with all those adjustable cables. Meathead walks in and surveys the room, scouting for where he'll be most visible, I assume. He walks up to the cardio machine next to my treadmill, grabs the armrails on either side, and starts doing a set of dips. Never mind that this is not at all what this machine is built for; never mind that there is a dip apparatus unused in the back corner of the room; never mind that his knees kept whacking the feet of this machine -- he's too awesome to be bothered by any of this nonsense. I put on my best "you couldn't pay me to notice you" face, which only made him dip faster and grunt harder. When he was done, he made quite a spectacle of his dismount and subsequent victory lap around the small weight room, before moving on to the next thing -- the cable machine on the other side of me. He loaded it up probably at least twice as heavily as he should have for the workout he was about to do, adjusted one of the cables, and began something sort of like a tricep pulldown...only the weight was too heavy for him to do this in a controlled manner, so he was pulling down and releasing with lightning quickness and in a very spasmic, jerky rhythm. The mental image that this conjured -- quite clearly, I'll add -- was that he was giving a giraffe a hand job (the less popular sequel to "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie").
This was an entertaining spectacle for most of my run -- of course, I was pretending not to pay any attention, because you can't give a guy like that the satisfaction, even if the only acknowledgment you give is a wtf scowl.
On that note, it's time for me to head into the gym for my morning yoga class. I hope I don't give anyone any reason to judge me the way I so often judge them... ;)
Speaking of snarkiness...I wrote half a standup act on the treadmill yesterday at the gym, based on this meathead next to me. I am really judgmental at the gym, but not of the people you'd expect. Really out of shape folks in there sweating buckets trying to get healthy for the first time ever? Good for you guys! My judgment is aimed at all the gym princesses -- male and female -- for whom it's not enough to be fit; they have to be seen. They wear attention-grabbing outfits, they prance around the facility, they grunt and yell for themselves, and they do things like this guy yesterday... I was on a treadmill in one of the smaller weight rooms, situated between an elliptical-type apparatus and a weight machine with all those adjustable cables. Meathead walks in and surveys the room, scouting for where he'll be most visible, I assume. He walks up to the cardio machine next to my treadmill, grabs the armrails on either side, and starts doing a set of dips. Never mind that this is not at all what this machine is built for; never mind that there is a dip apparatus unused in the back corner of the room; never mind that his knees kept whacking the feet of this machine -- he's too awesome to be bothered by any of this nonsense. I put on my best "you couldn't pay me to notice you" face, which only made him dip faster and grunt harder. When he was done, he made quite a spectacle of his dismount and subsequent victory lap around the small weight room, before moving on to the next thing -- the cable machine on the other side of me. He loaded it up probably at least twice as heavily as he should have for the workout he was about to do, adjusted one of the cables, and began something sort of like a tricep pulldown...only the weight was too heavy for him to do this in a controlled manner, so he was pulling down and releasing with lightning quickness and in a very spasmic, jerky rhythm. The mental image that this conjured -- quite clearly, I'll add -- was that he was giving a giraffe a hand job (the less popular sequel to "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie").
This was an entertaining spectacle for most of my run -- of course, I was pretending not to pay any attention, because you can't give a guy like that the satisfaction, even if the only acknowledgment you give is a wtf scowl.
On that note, it's time for me to head into the gym for my morning yoga class. I hope I don't give anyone any reason to judge me the way I so often judge them... ;)
