I have joined the gym. I figured it was time, as I went ahead and spent about $200 in preparation for joining the gym (I-Pod with requisite arm-band, gym clothes, new pair of sneakers, some vitamins, etc). In my short time there I have learned many things, which is good because I have probably ten days before I quit. The five that immediately come to mind are:

1) There is nothing good about working out. Any way you cut it, working out stinks. Pedaling on a bike for forty-five minutes that is going nowhere is just plain stupid. And afterwards, the feeling of, “Great - I just did thirty minutes on the treadmill” pales in comparison to the following feelings: “My god, this ice cream is delicious” or “Holy shit I can’t believe I am this fucking high” or “I never knew Southern Comfort tastes this good.” Waking up the next morning and not being to raise your arms above your shoulders because you are sure that they are hemorrhaging is not good. Being in a room with a bunch of sweaty people breathing heavily who smell bad is not good. Expending energy in the hopes of fitting into the societal model of “attractiveness” and developing an inferiority complex in the process is not good. Spending $50 per month for all this is the worst of all.

2) To work out is to waste everything our species has worked toward for millions of years. Fundamentally, when you work out, you are doing something physically taxing that you are not required to do. Can you imagine trying to explain working out to someone from the past? “So, let me get this straight - you’re going to take this really heavy weight and keep lifting it, over and over again. Then you are going to get on this machine and run, though you are not running anywhere. And no one is forcing you to do this with the threat of physical punishment, starvation, or torture. Am I missing something? Because it sounds kind of stupid to me.”

Human beings have evolved to this point in time mentally so that we do not have to make our bodies work as hard as our ancestors did, because our brains are much more advanced. For example, no longer do we need to spend hours hunting for our food in the hot sun, fighting off big-ass fucking tigers and other monsters, because Festival Mexicano will bring it to your door and it will be delicious (and reasonably priced). I needn’t get too into details of evolution (mostly because I don’t really know what I’m talking about), but when we force ourselves and our bodies to perform such equally strenuous and unnecessary activities, it is an affront to evolution, and, as such, to God Almighty Himself. [I know that the theory of evolution and the Judeo-Christian story of creation don’t exacly mesh, but the point is you don’t want to piss off God]

3) A good thing about the gym is that it’s totally ok to be really sweaty. This is especially great for someone like me, who sweats while breathing, sleeping and showering. One caveat: you have to find the right sweat balance between, “Wow that guys looks like she had a good workout” or “Jesus, someone should call the paramedics for that fat ass - is she turning blue?” I have not been able to find this balance, as evidenced by the looks of pity, concern, and alarm when I stumble off the exercise bike and into the locker room, gasping for air and weeping.

4) I just do not like right at the gym. Meaning, I really stick out, or at least I really don’t fit in. Everyone there is either: 1) in really good shape; 2) in really bad shape; or 3) old. There aren’t really many husky, early 30’s gals there. Or maybe they go at other times, like 2am, when no one is there to watch them struggle with a machine, get up and walk around the machine to try to figure out exactly what the machine is supposed to do, sit down and try the machine again, then finally walk away from the machine in disgust and shame.

5) There are many hot guys at the gym. I don’t know - I guess I always thought that sexy guys grew on trees, but apparently they have to work hard to look good. Who knew? Well, I now know that the gym is crawling with attractive sweaty guys who would like nothing less to be approached by a sweating, panting girl named Sandy hitting on them with her “sure-fire” jokes about retards and the homeless. Just sit on your lil’ bike and watch Fatty - don’t talk them, because they really don’t care that you’re “funny” or that “family is the most important thing” to you. You are chubby - please go away and take your smell with you.

That’s all I can think of for now. I’m sure I’ll be adding to this as time passes and I continue to embarrass myself in new and exciting ways in front of people who view me with disdain because I occasionally throw back a ten-pack of soft tacos.

I know this is a little hokey, but it is kind of fun to have $3 Trillion to play around with. I managed to pick up:

http://3trillion.org/carts/64934
Housing for America's homeless
New clothing, shoes, coats, and school supplies for ten million children
Universal health care for every American

and I finished repairing the damage done by Katrina.

And I haven't even spent half of my money yet!

What would you guys get?

Try it HERE.

Like throwing a hot dog down a hallway...

The mother has a mullet. Please, someone from TLC, give the poor Duggar woman a makeover. That would be a huge money making show. I am sure millions would tune in. Get her looking less matronly. She looked normal and attractive when they started out, now it’s Little House on the Prairie with a hint of Nascar. Yet a makeover may cause more Diggley Duggars, Jim Bob might just go crazy with his willy. Bang, bang, bang. I digress.

She looks brainwashed. It takes about two years for your internal organs to get back into their cozy natural state after pregnancy. She has been pregnant ten years of her life. Right now her spleen is probably floating near her armpit and her liver on her knee.

The Duggar family of Hicksville Arkansas are expecting their 18th child! And you know what? This beastly woman will likely get knocked up again! It gets easier as it goes, as now the 3rd eldest child has a newborn to take care of, as he gets home schooled in the art of child rearing.

…Birth control - just do it, or don’t do IT, get it?

a polygamy poem

Oh sister wife, dear sister wife

I’m so sorry about your flat hairdo

Yes, you may have a sexy unibrow

But my hair is six inches closer to God than you!

Oh sister wife, dear sister wife

I pray you’ll still go to heaven

Even though you’ve only birthed two girls

While I’ve given our husband seven!

Now don’t be thinking that you are the most pious

Just because you shun the tweezers

As we all know, Little House on the Prarie dresses

And Aqua Net are the best God pleasers.

Oh sister wife, dear sister wife

Be strong, now don’t get weepy

You know we’ll get our children back

Even though people think we’re creepy.

Don’t you fret dear sister wife

The Lord shall hear our prayer

I’ve also asked Him especially

To help you achieve some high and poofy hair.

These media people are such devils

But from everything I can glean

It will be fine, just keep your trap shut

about how we married dear Husband at thirteen.

If Horton Lived in My Neighborhood.

Horton Hears a Leaf Blower

Horton Hears a Car Alarm

Horton Hears a Teenager, Who Apparently Doesn't Believe in Car Mufflers, Driving Way Too Damn Fast

Horton Hears an Ambulance

Horton Hopes It's for the Teenager

Horton Hears a Basketball Bouncing

Horton Always Hears a Basketball Bouncing

Horton Hears a Basketball Bouncing So Fucking Much That Horton Now Feels Like she's Living in a Real-Life Version of Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart"

Horton Hears an Inner Voice Telling Her to Grab the Basketball

Horton Hears a 30 something Woman Sprinting Down the Street Desperately Clutching Onto the Basketball and Laughing Maniacally

Horton Hears the Basketball Being Angrily Stuffed Down the Neighborhood Storm Drain

Horton Hears Rumors of a Lawsuit

The Facebook

It only took me about a year and a half, but I’m finally into Facebook.


I shouldn’t say that I’m into it - I may not be aging very gracefully or getting very mature, but I’m a little conscious about the fact that I’m almost 33 years old and actively using social networking sites made for teenagers and college kids. But fuck it.


The fundamental problem with Facebook is that by default everyone is private - you have to go out of your way to make your profile available for public viewing. I ask, therefore, how is one supposed to stalk members of the opposite sex without befriending them first? This was the best part of MySpace, which I’m visiting less and less, seeing as I’ve stalking pretty much everyone possible on that social networking site.


And when I think about it, I can’t explain the allure of Facebook at all, except to say that it’s different and new (to me - I’ve had an account for two years but only recently it seems like my long-lost friends and some of you have been hitting me up for friend requests, thus drawing me in). At any rate, if nothing else, it’s another way to pass the time at work. And I guess it’s a good thing that it’s harder to stalk on there than on MySpace.


(I guess.)

Cereal Goodness

Our society is not shy about using the word "genius" to describe those of marginal talent or flashes-in-the-pan, often neglecting the true geniuses among us. The good people at Honey Bunches of Oats have been producing delicious cereals for a number of years, starting with their original Honey Roasted variety, which still stands up as an amazing cereal. In the last year or two, they introduced Cinnamon Honey Bunches of Oats and I was so moved that I wrote that all of you must try it, but only if you’re interested in life-changing cereals that make you appreciate yourself, others and the earth more.



But just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, recently the geniuses at HBoO have come out with a new cereal: Chocolate Honey Bunches of Oats. After my initial excitement subsided, I became skeptical: would this be an instance of too much of a good thing? I love HBoO and I love chocolatey cereal, but I also love having sex and pooping and wouldn’t necessarily combine them (I don’t think).



Well, leave your worries at the door, my friends - this cereal is the balls. It has the crunch, texture and sweetness of the original HBoO with only a slight (but glorious) chocolatey taste. But the best part - the chocolate cereal milk left over. Wow. Seriously, once more - Wow.



I tip my hat to the good people at HBoO, true geniuses. They took a delicious cereal in their original and improved upon it in the cinnamon incarnation, then improved upon it again with the chocolate incarnation. The only possible way they can improve on the chocolate cereal is "New Honey Bunches of Oats - With Real Diamonds!" It just can’t get much better.