Cyclops, Recycled Water and Dexter
Wednesday, December 13, 2006 at 15:05 Against all odds, I made it to the gym yesterday. Joe did not. I have concluded that "DID YOU DID YOU DID YOU" technique is failing as miserably as my other efforts. Feeling hopeless. If there is any trainer in South Florida that can help me out, you know where I am.
Even Vitamins can be dangerous. Last night I opened my vitamin cabinet door (believe me, my vitamin cabinet is a very big structure) and I can only surmise that my massive upper body strength ripped the door off its hinges and the door slammed me in the head. Or else my dimunitive cleaning woman cleaned the hinges senseless. Call it a vitamin overdoor dose.
After a handful of Tylenol, Advil and Aleve (these are not product placements), I stumbled into the gym with a slight concussion and a lump on my head, a veritable female Cyclops. Funny stares (no, a Mack truck did not just walk into me). I complete back and biceps and hop onto the treadmill. I buy a bottle of cold water, put it in the cup holder on the machine next to me and start to run while watching "Parental Control." A most awful show but somehow I think it keeps me running away from it at high speeds. In Minute 10, I reach over for my water, put my hand on the cold bottle, and some chick next to me puts HER hand on it and says "It's my bottle." My face turns all weird: [Maybe she did not look exactly like this, but close enough in my annoyed mind]
"What do you mean it's your bottle."
"There was a bottle here and I threw it out."
"Why did you do that. I just bought it."
"I did not know whose it was and it was in my machine."
"Why didn't you ask me before throwing it in the garbage."
"I'd give you mine but it is recycled water." (What the hell did she mean by that. She drank it and peed it back into the bottle.)
"No thanks."
I go back to running away from "Parental Control."
After the gym and work, I go home, check my email and opened my best friend Janet's latest note. Her theory is that I was never hit in the head by a flying vitamin door, but that I was simply avoiding her. So far from the truth, strong, solid, funny, kind Janet is one of my basic reasons to live.
Shunned by Janet, I run out the door into crappy Hoboken to meet Ellen, recently diagnosed with MS, who wants to treat me for my birthday (1 month later). She "entertains" me with stories of her horse slaughter rescue efforts. Although in remission, Ellen cannot sit for a full two hours and after driving the bartender nuts looking for him to make some obscure whiskey concoction, we leave. All in all, a lovely time.
It was 1:00 a.m., time for the Dexter rerun on Showtime. Dexter, the doing good serial killer. If he were a real person, I would be his best friend.
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