Reading This Won't Add to Your Life in Any Way

I was trying to think of what to blog about this week and nothing was really coming to me. Then I remembered something I tweeted recently. I heard someone telling a story, fraught with indignation, prefacing every new thought with the words "I said." It sounded something like:

"I said, that's not my problem, you know, and she's all whatever. I said, if that's how you wanna be that's on you, whatever, I said, that shit is wack." Or something like that...

Anyway- I tweeted that I hated when people did that. So I was thinking, why not a blog post about stuff I just don't like. Here we go:

- Seeing children in casinos

- Pleated front pants

- Whipped icing

- Transitions lenses (sorry Dad)

- The phrase "I'm the type of person that..."

- Mispronunciation

- Over-enthusiastic aerobics instructors

- Stating the obvious

- Being told the same story multiple times (sorry Mom)

- Pretty much any slang term for female anatomy

- When I parallel park perfectly on the first try and no one is there to see it

- Apostrophe abuse (though I love the blog dedicated to pointing it out)

I also asked a few people close to me what they thought of as things I don't like (is there no end to the narcissism web 2.0 leads to?) and here are a couple of my favorite responses:

From my sister: Girls wearing current trends i.e. you were anti-leggings and Uggs in 2006

From my mom: Any clothes your mother buys you

I just got back from kick boxing and I was pleasantly surprised that my favorite teacher was there instead of the normal Wednesday night teacher. I don't know most of the teachers' names but I've made up my own for each one.

The normal Wednesday night teacher is a peppy young girl who seems not quite sure of herself and how to lead a class but what she lacks in experience she makes up for in enthusiasm. She has us shadow box like we're hitting a speedbag but refers to it as speedballing. Naturally I call her Speedball.

Thursday night class is taught by the teacher I named Flashdance, because she has been teaching aerobics since that movie came out and inspired Jazzercise classes around the nation. She is one of those teachers who gets on my nerves because she is too happy about working out. I appreciate cardio after it's done, but I don't pretend to enjoy it while it's happening and I like teachers who feel the same.

Saturday and Sunday's classes are taught by hard ass Sandy who I think must have been the victim of some kind of attempted assault and thus made it her goal to teach women to defend themselves while also burning calories. She is the teacher who tells you to "put a face on it" while you're practicing jabs and knee slams. I get the feeling she knows exactly who her punches and kicks are meant for since she goes after them with such ferocity.

Monday is my favorite (and the one who taught tonight); I refer to him as the West Paterson Street Fighter. He is large, bald and sweaty and you just know he knows these moves work from down and dirty experience. He comes around with the pads on his hands and gets in your face saying "Whatchoo gon' do? Get out da way, I'm comin at ya, whatchoo got?" Then you get to actually hit something, which is really gratifying. He also reacts in a way that makes you feel like you took him by surprise with your strength and aggression which, again, makes the effort feel worthwhile.

Tuesday is actually Zumba class now instead of kick boxing and is taught by the Silent Salsa Queen. She speaks only with her hips.

Wednesday is my least favorite teacher. I will go so far as to say I dislike him as a person. I call him "If They Could See Me Now." It is so obvious that he was a huge nerd growing up but then got into martial arts and weight lifting and now thinks that because he is in good shape he has proven everyone wrong, and that being flexible and muscular automatically makes him a cool guy. Not so. If you'd like a little more detail about what bothers me so much about him, you can read it here.

I wonder what the teachers would call me if they had to make up a name. Probably something like Fits and Starts or Lil' Sporadic.

What Are You Thankful For?

Recently we recorded Thankful videos for our company's web site, you can see them here: http://www.coynepr.com/thankful.html.

In mine I said that I was thankful for all the creepy guys I meet and all the weird people at my gym because they give me stuff to write about on my blog.

But then I realized I haven't actually written anything in a while about creepy guys I've met or weird gym people.

I haven't really been to the gym that much recently to see the weird people. And not too many creepy guys have struck up conversations with me lately (with the exception of one guy who was deemed "vampire-esque; it had something to do with his deep v-neck shirt).

Then I started thinking, have no creepy guys talked to me because I haven't been to the gym in a while?

So should I stop going to the gym altogether?

Fire Fighter

Every once in a while, I get little glimpses into who I really am through situations that arise and how I react to them. Like this for example.

The most recent of these revelations was last Saturday when I went to Easter Vigil mass with my parents. The mass was broken up into stages, apparently with themes. The first was light. They gave everyone candlesticks stuck through holes in the bottom of a plastic cup with the top of the candle a few inches above the rim of the cup.

So once the priest and co. started walking down the aisle they lit people's candles and and then everyone lit the candles of those around them, even the small children with poor hand eye coordination; I did not take a candle.

They dimmed the lights that the church was filled with the soft glow of hundreds of candles throughout the opening songs and prayers. Sounds nice, right? However, my reaction to all this was to huff and cluck my tongue indignantly, leaning over to my dad saying "Well, this is just an accident waiting to happen." Then over to my mom, "Who decided this was a good idea?" Then to myself, "Seriously, they're letting children handle open flames in a room where people are packed like sardines, this is ridiculous."

I paid no attention to anything having to do with the ceremony or holiday; I was too preoccupied with looking around to see who's hair would catch on fire first and doing what I could to make sure it wasn't mine.

I didn't sit down, or even relax my shoulders until I was sure the three little girls in the pew behind me had completely extinguished their flames and given the wax time to cool.

I'm sure it was a very nice effect for those who appreciated it, but I can't help but think that God would see it my way.