Not so tough NOW, are ya??

You know what's better than walking outside with the garbage and seeing your neighbor, who you can't stand, sitting on the curb in handcuffs surrounded by police cars?

Yeaaaaaah........

Nothin'!

S'me!

Once, when I was moving, I decided to finally delete all the old messages on my answering machine. There were about 90. About 45 of them were from Jackie, and as I was hitting "FORWARD", "DELETE", I realized that she said "Hey, it's me" at the start of every message. So I deleted every message but hers, and was then entertained for 3 minutes by:

Hey, it's me BEEP!
He-ey, it's... me-eeBEEP!
Hey it's me (muffled due to a lot of cheese in her mouth).... BEEP!
Hey, (cough, cough), s'me BEEP!
Hey, it's MEEE! BEEP.
Hey, it's me. BEEP!

Since then, she's tried to vary her voicemail messages - Hello, this is Jackie, Greetings, Good morning, Top o' the morning to you!, Hi Mary, etc.

But this weekend, I had a crappy weekend. I didn't pick up the phone. When I finally did, I had about 9 personal messages, all from different people.

And they all started "Hey, it's me".

And I realized how lucky I am to have people in my life that can leave a "Hey, it's me" on my voicemail - who know I'll recognize their voice, and smile.

Lucky.

:)

Fucked up in Florida

Yesterday I went to sleep for the first time in two days. Apparently, the Wellbutrin I just started taking for Mad Cow Disease (otherwise known as raging PMS) can lead to insomnia, possibly maybe.

FORTY-ONE HOURS LATER, I went to sleep for seven hours, until I was gently awakened by "I HAVE TO GO PEE ON THE POTTY!" and had several confused flashbacks to my college years until I realized it was the newly potty-trained Pee Pee The Kid.

During the worst of it ("Captain's Log, Stardate 42477.2 - I am talking into my right hand... at ...5am".) I decided to watch a film or two. The boyfriend had recently given me a stack of DVD's, because my favorite mental-break-me-time is losing myself in a two hour movie. Sadly, the movie I pulled out was Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and I spent the next two hours enjoying my insomnia while feeling like I was on a combination of acid, cocaine, and mescaline, surrounded by my own hallucinations. I can only recommend you watch this film while well-rested. ("Captain's Log, Supplemental - We had ..no idea ...that Mary found Star Trek jokes so ...entertaining.")

Apart from a bad turn with the Night Crazies, I am feeling so much better. I took my rage out on my bathroom floor on Sunday, armed with a small brush and a bucket of diluted Mr. Clean. Why is Mr. Clean a man? Why isn't it Miss Clean? How many men have ever actually thought about cleaning and proactively gone out and purchased Mr. Clean? If pressed to clean, I'm sure a man would make do with shampoo on an old stinky sponge.

"What? It's good enough for your hair, but not good enough for our floor? Come on, its purpose is to clean. I did what you asked me to do. Lemme go watch the game."

Tune in next week when you'll hear Dr. Bob say....

Last week, the Kid and I were at the library, and I found a DVD set of the Muppet Show.

I haven't seen the Muppet Show in years, but it was the one show that my parents let me watch each week. The rest of the stuff I had to throw myself on the ground and cry for.

I put the DVD in, and it was like I was five years old again. I don't even think we had a color TV back then, so it was even better than when I was five. I realized that the reason my parents didn't mind me watching this was because the show had adult jokes that went right over my head - but most importantly, because it's really FUNNY! I must admit, that after I put the Kid to bed, I stayed up and watched the rest of it and laughed hysterically.

My parents acted like they were doing me some big favor. Now I know why they were really "letting" me watch.

They totally owe me a pony.

Just call me Ruth Marx

Today I made an appointment, refilled a prescription, purchased a birthday gift, chatted with friends, checked my bank account (always good for some comic relief) paid an electric bill, and watched a movie. On my computer screen.

If I didn't have a child, I might never leave the house.

I work from home. We've had bronchitis for three weeks, that got especially bad in the last week. I am rapidly becoming an agoraphobic.

Yesterday whats-his-name wanted me to look at a car he was thinking of buying while we were talking on the phone. He said, "Are you online?" Then mumbled "What am I saying, of course you're online".

Ruh row.

Why do I feel like he's caught me in my curlers?

Note to self: Get a tan.

Feverishly sexy, no?

I wouldn't say that bronchitis is all that bad. For instance, I can do a really great Tom Waits impersonation.

My First Spinning Class (Confessions of a Whiner)

As part of switching out my cardio, I went to my first Spinning class the other day.

Hoo, boy.

I instantly knew that I was the only one who had never been to the class previously, as everyone else attending looked like Anatomically Correct Man and Anatomically Correct Woman. They were wearing bicycle shorts, and stretchy tanks, and heart monitors on their wrists. And spinning shoes.

I felt like George Costanza in a terrycloth headband. But I was determined.

The instructor came over and introduced herself, and asked if I had been to a Spinning class before. As if that wasn't painfully obvious. She then helped me adjust my bike, and showed me the three positions they would be using. Then she clipped me into the pedals. (Shit!) The people on the bikes around me were already pedaling. I guess they were warming up. I wasn't warming up. It was a 50-minute class. If I started warming up, I could be finished before class even started.

She turned on the music and shut off the lights, and we started to pedal under a black light. I looked around, admiring how nice and crisp everyone's towel looked under the light. Then I noticed all the lint on my shirt. Oh, for fuck's sake. Well, now I'm distracted.

I tried to see if I could notice lint on anyone else's clothes. Either they were too far away and therefore, couldn't see mine, or I really am a mess. I really need to reorganize my entire life. I have closets I need to clean, I don't have Spinning shoes, my sleep hours are erratic, I should probably mend some fences in my family before everyone drops dead, I need a new couch, and now I have lint on my shirt.

"Turn up your resistance, and get into second position!" Miss 3% Body Fat shouted into her headset.

Everyone grabbed their handlebars and stood up. There was no way I was standing up. It had been like, eight minutes. I still have 42 to go. Pedal, pedal, pedal.

She walked around the room, checking everyone's heart rate monitors with a small flashlight. "If you don't have a heart rate monitor" she bellowed daintily, "check your breathing. You should be able to talk".

Girl, I could sing an entire frikkin' opera right now. You know why? It's been 9 minutes, and I'm imagining myself out for a nice ride out in the country.

She passed by me and gave me an emphatic thumbs-up.

Then my ass started to hurt. I haven't been on a bike in a long time. When the class stood up, I stood up. And it was difficult. Apparently, I have the world's biggest ass. I sat down again. Aaah. That felt temporarily better. But I think I have to pee. Yes, I have to pee. Should I go pee? No, they'll all smile smugly to themselves and think "Wow, newbie, eleven whole minutes?" I'm not peeing.

I have to pee I have to pee I have to pee I have to pee.

Now I think I have a urinary tract infection. I try standing up again. Ohhhh... better. I sit down. I should have peed before we started. If I didn't have a UTI before, I have one now. Screw this. I'm human. I'm going to the bathroom.

And then I realize I can't get my foot out of the pedal strap. Since the instructor did it, I have no idea what she did. It's like, sailing knots. And it's dark. And if I bend over, it puts pressure on my bladder. I try to gently slide my foot out, but it gets caught on my shoelaces. And suddenly, Spinning shoes make a whooole lotta sense.

I'm not sure, but I think I have a hemorrhoid. I can't tell, because my ass's gone numb, except for two points of bone that are jamming right into the rock hard seat. I have to pee I have to pee I have to pee. I wish I had one of those inflatable donut ass pillow things. And we're standing.

OK, fuck this.

I sit, I stand. I increase resistance. This is not so tough. I'm sweating. I'm drinking water. Hey, the water looks cool under the black light! Good thing I'm the Elliptical Queen. La la la la I love Aerosmith.

I made it. I'm breathing normally. I don't have a UTI or a hemorrhoid, but I will pee before the next class. I'm going back on Thursday.

:)