I kicked ass and took names today. And thy name is Pilates Reformer. I’ve been dutifully working out with that little number since it kicked my ass last weekend. It’s interesting how quickly the body responds and reacts, increasing endurance to meet the challenge. Well, lest you get the wrong impression from my bold ass-kickin‘ statement, I guess a more accurate description would be that I was able to do the entire cardio workout without a break, and get myself up off the machine in a much more graceful manner than previous attempts. I still had to struggle a bit, I wasn’t able to just sit right up, but I didn’t fear I would be trapped on the machine until a rescue attempt was made. So that’s quite a bit of progress after five workouts. And I even felt myself saunter a bit as I left the gym today, there was a bit of a swivel to my hips that could almost have been a lithe movement. Maybe, from a distance.
It was a full day today, taking care of bidnez‘ as my brah–thuz say. Is that racist? Well, whatever, I’m not playing those politically correct/incorrect games. First Amendment, People! Most disappointing and frustrating was the crazy cellphone drama. Cellphone and drama goes hand-in-hand, I believe. I took the phones down to make the switch of phone numbers (I want to keep my number from Verizon, Kenny’s happy with his new number), get my credit for the cancellation of the early termination fee I will incur from Verizon, and get a few features of my new phone straightened out.
Well, my new, state-of-the-art Razor 2 is incapable of sending picture messages to my email – instead I have to send them to a T-Mobile account and do my photo thing from there. A minor inconvenience, I guess. The distressing and disillusioning part of the transaction was having to go from the kiosk where I purchased the phone and entered into the contract, over to the corporate area to figure out the emailing problems. The kids at Corporate told me that even though the kiosk said “Authorized T-Mobile Dealer” and I was able to enter into a contract, and my phone has a “Product of T-Mobile” insignia on it, they don’t honor any of it because they said the Authorized Dealers aren’t Certified Dealers, and are “shysters” or some nonsense. Now, they had my phone for sale right there in their corporate store. Whatever, it just left a sour taste in my mouth, and I’ve decided if this doesn’t work smoothly, I will pay cancellation fees and disband with all cellphones. I just won’t have a phone, it would be much less stressful that way. No one calls me anyway. Call me at work or send me an email if you need to contact me.
I’m getting a little ahead of myself, but that will be the road I travel should I encounter a bump – or a pothole – along the new T-Mobile route. I’ve wasted too many hours of my life with cellphone issues, particularly compared to the ratio of enjoyment I get out of it. I miss the ways of yesterday, times were simple and people didn’t have to walk around with phones stuck to their heads, talking while they’re taking a shit in the bathroom stall next to you. What the hell is that about anyway?? When did it become socially acceptable to talk on the phone while you were taking a shit/piss?? Especially girls. I know I hold girls to certain higher standards, but seriously – we are supposed to be somewhat sugary and spicey, aren’t we? How does shitting in public and talking on the phone at the same time factor into that equation?
Now the question that begs an answer: Were vibrating razors invented so women could masturbate in the shower, too?
Friday night was the Keith Urban concert. It was really good, he sounds great live and our seats were really good, parallel to the stage. We could have reached out and touched him when he performed on the little wing that jutted out from the stage. He’s very interactive with the audience, jumping down and singing among the crowd. He didn’t do that on our side, but it was still cool – he got pretty well groped and I think was rethinking his decision after he was in the thick of it.
Today we shopped, had a quick dinner at Chipolte, and then saw Dan In Real Life. I expected more from it, but it was enjoyable enough. Plodded along in some parts, a little ridiculously coincidental in others, but overall good enough. Can definitely wait for rental on this one, though. It was worth our price of admission, but that’s because that’s free. Not $20 worthy. I wanted to buy Sicko at Walmart today, but it was $20 and I’m just not paying that much for a DVD. My top dollar for a DVD is $13.94, which is what I paid for We Are Marshall. Not $19.94, that’s more expensive than 2 tickets at the theater and a small popcorn. Crazy talk.
Wednesday is the big Garth Brooks “concert” and I’m really looking forward to that, we’re going with some fun people.
It’s Birthday Week!! I almost forgot to even give myself a shout-out!! Happy Birthday To Me! The girls from Product Managment proposed going out for the birthday on Friday, so that should be fun, they’re always a good time and so easy to hang out with – it’s just good fun and not a lot of drama.
Wow, did October and now November fly by. I have one month to get my book going. An email to Rob today rather inspired me off on a new tangent. Maybe something will materialize from it, maybe not.
I could say so many more words, but won’t. Peace!