Sweaty Boxers

Sounds delicious, doesn't it?

Well, now let's put it into perspective. Master P and I decided that we were going to start trying to more religiously doing some sort of athletic activity. (Even if it is not swimsuit season, there are certain hibernating techniques that only our furry friends should engage in - storing fat). So we've vowed to go to the gym more often.

It's ironic actually -- we half decided to live where we do because there is a gym on site. Given the fact that the gym is not in our apartment complex is my excuse for never going before. Anyway - back to the story.

So we went - sweat a ton and felt good. We repeated the next day. Which, by the way was far more difficult than the day beforehand. Now this is where our story goes from being G rated to near X. Master P and I are cranking away at our selective machines, when low and behold, enter another residence.

What I am about to say from this point on is the gosh awful truth.

A small framed man enters into the gym. He is eating a cookie. He does a quick scope of the scene and puts his bags down in the middle aisle, between the two rows of machines. (In other words, he puts his things down where anyone on any machine has full view of what he is about to do -- thank goodness P and I were the only ones in the room).

He proceeds to take off his boots and put them in a plastic bag, perhaps the same one that had the bag of cookies in it. Who knows? What happens next nearly caused me to either a) fall off my machine or b) piss in my pants. He took his jeans off. He took his jeans off and then proceeded to fold them up. Mind you, there is a bathroom in the entrance way. So here he stands in his checkered boxers. P and I exchange glances, trying not to laugh out loud.

Instead of them putting on a pair of track shorts OVER the boxers - stringy man sits down (yes - sits down in a room full of mirrors!!!) and laces up his running shoes. He does all of this without thinking that there may be other people in the room. Well, once the shoes are on - he jumps on the treadmill and starts running.

Two thoughts cross my mind.
1) He is not afraid to let it all hang out - he is comfortable with his manhood.
2) He must not be packing much, because I would imagine as a male it is not very comfortable to run free balling it.

Upon consulting with Master P, we concluded that it would have to be the later.

Never a dull moment in this life. Never a dull moment.

* I thought I could chalk the experience up as never wanting to go to gym again and to continue with my blissful lazy streak. I have opted to refrain from giving up on working out. Maybe next week someone will be lifting weights in a thong! *

garbage raiders.

I admit it. I raid garbage bins for thrills. And no, this does not mean that I dig my hands through bags. It means I browse the situation to see if anyone may have left behind a small treasure (or large). I take joy in seeing things left outside of garbage containers - whether its chairs, mirrors, plates, tables... etc. Some of the news that makes me the most excited is when neighbors move.

Last week someone posted a note outside our apartment complex.
"Everything must go. We are moving out this week. $ amount of dollar, o.b.o. ... ya da ya da..."

O.B.O. is like music to my ears. (For those of you who may not know what o.b.o. stands for -- here's a goody -- it means or best offer). Hell, I am not going to buy your old furniture, but leave it outside the dumpster in good condition and I'll take it off your hands. And that is my best offer.

I admit most girls get excited about sales on shoes, purses or accessories. Not to say that those things don't turn me on - okay, so they don't - but finding treasures or bargains on second-hand things really rocks my world. Especially when they are free! I picked up a couch in college that way, and no, it was not insect or dander infected.

I had to chuckle to myself the other day because I dragged Master P out into the cold (25F, -2C) to check out the dumpster situation. The family had officially moved out and I want to be sure we got a good glimpse of whatever goodies may be left over. Having a wood table and real chairs would be nice and those were a few of the many things we could use, but don't have. (Not to say that I don't like eating around a card table with captain chairs... but not when we have to cut meat ;); even if it holds your beer perfectly).

Unfortunately, much to my dismay there was nothing, nothing left outside the closest dumpster (or the three others that are further away). (Okay, so I admit I have a problem - I like to dumpster dive!).

Until the next family moves out I'll be waiting for more signs.

I may be blonde, but I ain't stoopid

Women be warned - don't go to a mechanic alone. Or, if you do expect the worst.

I hate to call it my beater, but my car it on the fritz. Hopefully it has more life to it yet than I give it credit for. We'll see how it survives its first winter. I thought it was high-time to bring it when I was beginning to feel like a Nascar drive (Or Formula 1 for you espanolcitos). I got a recommendation of a mechanic, and felt comfortable dropping off the vehicle.

Well, when I finally got called back in - there was a laundry list of things to be fixed. The exhaust system, timing belt, axles, brake fluid, electrical whatnots... All of it totaling more than what my car is even worth. I decided to get a second option.

The place I ended up going to made almost all my repairs - replacing necessary parts, not the whole freaking system for a forth of what the other guy said. No sweat then, right -- everything was fine. Car was fixed, money was saved.

Not so fast. Let's not forget that the day I got it replaced (axles were included in that) my car dead stopped on the busiest road in town on my way to pick Peds up from class. What to do, what to do? My car is at a dead stop, I am alone, it's dark.... eeps. At least I flicked the hazards on! Peds and the rest of the Spaniards came to my rescue, as did some strapping young men.
It was, to date, my first adult experience -- having to deal with your car breaking down in the middle of a busy road. Amen it was evening - so there was no accident or complication with other traffic. The story ends with me having the car towed back to the original place and having one to many VTs that night to forget about the pain. Have I mentioned yet that I hate cars? Because I do. I hate being dependent on a gas-guzzling, repairs needed *thing*.

Anywho -- that is the fun and glory of being a women. Having the mechanic try to pull a fast on you. Doesn't work so well with me mister - not even if you send a cute "thank you for ruining my day and confidence in my vehicle" card a couple of days after you try to rip me off.

Here's to happiness, love and HEALTH

Hmm. How do you even begin starting a post on health? First of all, you always want to be healthy and not have to go to the doctor. Secondly, you really want to be healthy if you don't have health insurance. Personally, the fact that it seems sometimes you just have to work for health insurance and bennies here drives me mad. Doesn't everyone deserve medical treatment if they need it?

Introduce: (and cue) public health care.

It just doesn't make sense to me why a country that claims to be the best at everything doesn't even take care of its own as they should. The rich and the poor are divided by the quality of care they are given or in some cases refused. It did not take watching Sicko to make me realize this. And, I am well aware that the movie is biased and designed to pull at your heart cord.

Yes, I am an American. And yes, I am proud to be an American. I wouldn't want to be anything else by choice... okay maybe European (but hell I already am - thanks to the great-gramps ;o)). I just don't get it. How can so many other countries have a public health care system that work and don't discriminate based on social standing - and we can't? Is it because insurance and pharmaceutical companies?

I, myself, have benefited from public health care while working abroad. It's rather comforting to know that if something happened you are covered, even if your monthly budget may say otherwise. It would have been nice though, to have a doctor who spoke English and wasn't an anti-american prick. I digress, that is besides the point... (Damn glad I didn't pay him though!)

I got to thinking about ways to justify having the system we do. I didn't think too long. I was at a loss. I would say that almost anyone who came across someone on the street who looked like they were in an enormous amount of pain would stop that person and ask them if they were okay. Or maybe you'd call 911, or at least do something. Isn't health care similar? If you need help - shouldn't you always (no questions asked) be given care? Guess not. Now there's freedom.

It's probably too late for change. It would take too much to change the system. I don't think this is even a coherent post, but it's been on my mind a lot lately. (And no, not just because my bill for insurance came and knocked my socks off!). I'm a healthy person. I don't understand why I have to pay so much out of pocket to go to the doctor the couple times I do annually (if that). I often wonder if I wasn't insured if I would end up spending less than always being covered. I guess it is a chance I am not willing to undertake, but it does bring up an interesting point.

Gambling with your health never is the smart thing to do -- but may it be the most economic?

*s*

Design Central.

Don't you just hate it when your sheets don't match your comforter? Your towels don't match your toothbrush? Yeah - I don't care either. Living the frugal life we live; we don't really give a darn how things look, as long as they work.

There has been an exception to the rule folks. This weekend we engaged in some serious interior decorating. It was high time that our desk and end table actually matched the rest of our furniture. The sig other has been watching a lot of design programs in his free time. Not to mention food and fashion programs too. (I was beginning to wonder just how straight of a man he really was - but it has been confirmed - he is. The baseball hat and bodily noises/odors attest to this factoid... amongst other things). ;o)

So Sunday came, as did daylight savings time. We took a much needed trip to one of the home warehouse stores and got ourselves some black paint, primer and white paint. Then we got some stencils to be more artsy. It was actually very relaxing and rejuvenating to work on making something look better. Damn the cold weather and having all windows open as to not faint in our apartment; we had to stop as the sun went down because there were no more layers to put on. We hope to continue and finish this weekend. (Ignore that it's supposed to snow this week.)

The depressing thing about home decorating is -- we don't actually have a home. We just have a place to quasi-call our own. When we do have a place that is rightfully ours, I don't think we'll ever want to leave. Decorating can be fun! Now if only we could get paid for it too... ;)

Earth Friendly Idiot

Gas prices are on the rise.
Winter approaches, thus heating bills go up.
Holiday shopping takes away flex money.

So... why not ride the two-wheeler to work? (aka. bicycle). Sounds like an ingenious idea. Not only will I be reducing the amount of toxins poured into the earth's atmosphere, but I am can also get good exercise. Not to mention, that most times I can get where I want to go just as fast as if I was driving. Everyone should do this.

I admit, I am not biking to work. For many reasons. It's getting cold being one. The hood isn't the best to peddling through. And most importantly -- there is NO SAFE BIKE PATH! Well, there wasn't until today some idiot decided there was.

Allow me to replay the situation. Here I am (in my car) driving the busiest main street there is. The street that everyone commutes to and from work, or to or from anywhere in this city. There is no sidewalk and two narrow lanes of traffic. It is roughly 4:30 pm, and the traffic is starting to build up. I look to my right and see a middle-aged man on his bike. I first think to myself, "Is this guy crazy -- this is a super busy street to be biking on at this time of day, let alone anytime." As I approach and move more to the left lane of traffic, as not to hit this guy, I realize not only is he NOT wearing a helmet, but he was talking on his cell phone.

Who in god's name rides their bike down a main street not protected and being a complete a-hole? Is is wrong of me for wanting to run him off the road? I don't and actually refuse to talk on my phone when I am driving. It is a distraction and endangers myself and others. It's my personal choice. Sorry, but I think that biking and talking on your cell phone is beyond stupid. What I also failed to mention, is this man ran a red light! Sure he passed through the line of traffic, and luckily didn't get pummeled to the ground by on-coming traffic. It would have served him right.

It just seems to funny to me - how doing such a thoughtful act to our earth can be performed by such nitwits?? Take the bus you moron, because you endanger cars with your bike riding!

Horses

This is an interesting topic. Of which, in the off chance my rambling even has an audience, let alone a horse-enthusiast audience, I would be very curious to see if any of this is correct or if this girl was just shooting the breeze.

We were out and about, engaged in a very intense conversation with people we had just met. Talking, naturally, about the things you are never supposed to talk about with people you just met. Yes, religion and politics it is. Religion and politics, led to ethnicity, discrimination, voting policies and segregation.

We were talking about if when voting, a certain minimum level of education should be required. Can you really require a college education to vote? High school? We never reached a conclusion or decision on this issue, although, we did decide something. We decided that America does a pretty damn good job of trying to make everyone equal. There just seems to be the pesky, but ever so natural, segregation that gets in the way.

This is where the zinger comes in -- one of the girls mentioned she works with horses. She said that horses, when on their own tend to gravitate toward the familiar. The brown horses to the brown. The white to the white. The black to the black. It is the mixed horses that don't fit in with the brown, white or black. Why is this?

Are we as a society trying to change nature's tendencies? Maybe it just isn't normal for everyone to mix and get along. I found it very thought-provoking and interesting. I never would have guessed that animals segregate according to their physical features. This is something I hope to see with my own eyes to believe.

If it isn't the natural "animal"tendency to be attracted to what is different, why is it that sometimes we try so hard in our society to do so? We are far from a perfect world - and maybe this example with the horse should teach us something.

When forced to get along to give rides we can stand each other's presence, but when left to our own devices we'd prefer to be with something familiar. There is nothing wrong with this. I am sure there are exceptions for horses too, just as there are exceptions for humans.

Nonetheless, I found it interesting. A good, sit-down and think about it topic.

The Perils of Reality TV

I admit, like almost everyone else, I get sucked into watching reality tv shows that are of little to no interest to me. It is a pleasant way to a) feel better about one's own life and b) relax and pass the time.

Anyway, the other night I started watching one that really peaked my attention, and afterwards filled me with afterthought and anger. Afterthought? Yes, I actually thought about the ridiculous situation for hours after viewing. *s* The show has to do with putting a near divorce couple in a house with a lawyer, marriage counselor, life counselor, sexologist... yadayada etc. The episode I happened to watch, in its entirety, had to do with a feeble woman who married a pathological liar.

In the beginning my heart really went out for this poor girl. She had been lied into dating, marrying and being with her husband. He had lied about his health, inventing a terminal disease and then going on an awesome 'goodbye' cruise; cheated on her multiple times and misused nuddie pictures of her. Not exactly your knight in shining armor - so a little wake up call on national television to serve as his therapy couldn't be all that bad.

When the show was over, I still sided with the girl. But then... not so much. First off, who in their right mind would actually still consider dating someone who invented dying of cancer to go on a cruise? Then he cheats on you, lies about it and does it again. It's called leaving him!

Fortunately in the world we live in divorce paperwork practically gets handed out with marriage licenses. You really have to be a very weak person not to leave the man and find something better.

It's not just this couple though. Why on earth would you go on national television to demonstrate your falling apart marriage? Get counseling without the cameras. Walking out on camera in little dresses and suits is not the way to approach your marriage. Goodness!

Nada

I thought that maybe if I waited a few days I would an exciting story to pass on. As it turns out, that is not the case. I could talk about the weather and how abnormally warm it has been for being October, but that just seems too basic.

The Trivial Life

Dictionary definition: commonplace; ordinary.

What we all strive not to be... commonplace. Who wants to be average, ordinary or normal. Gasp!
Yet, it seems the harder one tries to be different the more trivial his life becomes. No one wants to be that strange person who goes above and beyond social norms to be recognized.

As I write this sig other is searching for winter boots in oversized sweatshirt and underwear. (The underwear seem non-existent). Now this is good stuff! This is what makes life worth living. Not the act of looking for something, but no, the act of doing such a common task in a creative way!
Hence, I encourage searching for things in underwear. We'll determine if it helps with the finding of lost objects.

Here's to the search!