Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.


#194 In which our hero discusses several things, including his body's impending revolt and a nudity-free gathering.

Several things:

Thing the first: my body is trying to kill me.

I’m not generally a New Year’s resolutions kind of guy, and this year is no exception. However, there is one thing that I’d like to do… get in better shape. (I’d also like to reduce the number of ellipses I use in my writing… but that seems unlikely). This is something that’s always been in the back of my head on my unwritten “good thing to do” list (up there with taking a daily vitamin and washing my car more often); but I’ve never really done anything about it. After Macey was born, I tried to spur myself into action. The Scientist (having just birthed a baby) was pretty out of shape, and was sporting a nice, round post-baby gut. I figured I should work to lose my gut before she lost her gut. I didn’t say that out loud, party because I’m not a total idiot and I know that calling my wife fat, even in the most roundabout fashion, is foolish; but more so, I think, because I feared I might lose that race.

And lost it I have.

Little more than a year later The Scientist is back to her fighting weight, more or less, and I’m still where I started. I think what really motivates me at the core is the fear that one day she’s going to see me coming out of the shower and say, “Hey, y’know what, fatty? I can do better” and leave me. So I’m doing something about it. I have a plan, even. Here it is:

Monday: yoga
Tuesday: weights
Wednesday: cardio
Thursday: weights
Friday: running
Saturday: weights or cardio
Sunday: rest (what? I’m not Superman)

I got this awesome home gym for the weights part and, come on, it’s right in the basement, so why not work out? Right?

After putting it all together (a mental workout, at least) I fooled around with it a bit, but hadn’t yet really exercised. But, last Saturday, I put my plan into action. I worked out my upper body and abs, and finished the workout with 30 crunches. The following Monday I went to my yoga class, and felt pretty good about it.

Then, Monday evening, my body said, “Wait just a damn minute! Are you serious about this working out bullshit? We’re gonna put the kibosh that that garbage right now!” I woke up at 3am nauseous, and sure I was going to puke. I even took the position in front of the bowl -- but to no avail. I wasn’t running a fever, but I had the shakes something fierce. I thought maybe it had to do with all the chips and cookies I ate right before bed (what? The nutrition part of the program is down the line) and tried to get some more sleep.

The next morning I felt no better. After calling off work and laying in bed all day, I felt only marginally better. And I finally started to run a fever.

The good news is that by the next morning I was much better. I went to work and was only a little fuzzy-headed. I am, however, super-pissed that I had to burn one of my three sick days within the first two weeks of the year. Stupid body!

Thing the second: my newspaperboy-woman still sucks.

The temperature has dropped considerably in these parts. While it was still 50s-60s last week, this week it’s 20s-30s. Cold enough that the mud puddle that is my front yard has finally frozen.

So naturally, when I went to get my newspaper this morning, it was perfectly placed in the center of my driveway. And I mean perfectly. It straddled the dividing line exactly, and was canted at a friendly angle towards the house, as if to say “Good morning! Here’s your daily paper!” Of course, what I heard was, “Here ya go, asshole! No reason to chuck this into the yard until it thaws into quicksand again.”

Someone in comments suggested I call the newspaper and complain; a completely rational suggestion which had never even crossed my mind. I had thought about getting up super early and confronting her on the street, but never thought of picking up the telephone. This is probably because of my deep-rooted Midwestern mindset… I mean, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.

I know, I’m pathetic.

Thing the last: There was no nudity at the Christmas party.

It’s safe to say that the agency that employs me is pretty relaxed, shall we say. I mean, free beer and dunk tanks aren't exactly the hallmarks of hard-assed taskmasters. So when talk started about the upcoming Christmas party, I wasn't surprised to hear that it had been a raucous affair in the past. There was talk about young AEs getting liquored up and sloppily kissing their bosses, strip shows on table tops and streaking.

Yes, streaking.

Apparently, one of the AEs (a man, I’m sad to say) at the party four years ago thought it was a good idea to take off all his clothes and run through the party. This man was not fired, another sign of the liberal nature of the company.

So I was fully prepared for craziness. The Scientist and I got a babysitter for the evening, put on our fancy duds and headed down to drink in the madness.

And while it was a fun party, with good food and an open bar, there was no craziness of which to speak. Any other place I’ve ever worked I would have walked away saying, “Wow, that was a great party!” Instead, I had to shake my head and say, “That’s all there is?”

Nevertheless, several good things did come of it. Most importantly, I got to introduce The Scientist around, and show off just how awesome she is. My favorite moment of the evening: she and I are standing around chatting, and That Guy comes over with this wife. Now, remember, all I’ve heard about this woman is what a bitch she is, so I’m expecting the worst. But, far from being a harpy, she’s actually a sweet, soft-spoken and rather attractive woman. We congratulate her on the pregnancy, and chat a bit. That Guy starts to lament about the lack of sex, and how all that talk about hot pregnancy sex he’s heard about turned out to be bullshit. As he walks away, The Scientist turns to me and says, “Dude, I wouldn’t fuck him either.”

And remember that woman I hate for no good reason? I pointed her out to The Scientist, who used her scientific training and years of study to help me understand why I felt this way. Her conclusion? “She has an ape-face.”

I don’t know if that completely explains my feelings for my co-worker, but it perfectly demonstrates why I feel the way I do toward my wife.


Blogger Lil Kate said...

I lost it when I read "She has an ape-face."

That, my friends, is why The Scientist is one of my friends. She's hilarious!

Miss you guys!

6:10 PM


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