Yet Another Random Thoughts
My constant reader, Kate, has recently berated her daughter Kelly for not updating her blog often enough. Since Kelly updates about 100 times for my one, I fear it is only a matter of time before I get the same. So to head that off, I present yet another thrilling edition of that last refuge for the boring blogger, Random Thoughts.
Still doing the diet thing, still doing the exercise thing. I wish I could tell you it's going gangbusters, but it really isn't. I have for the last couple of months been on the weight loss trampoline. I'm up one week, I'm down one week, I'm up a while, I'm down again. In the end, much like NASCAR, I'm in much the same place I began. I'm not amused. But I'm also at a loss for how to fix it.
While the gym has never been my favorite place, it's been near unbearable. This is because it's time again for the softball classes in the gym below. My walking time has become infested with loud, annoying girls who all seem to think that if you screech every time you throw the ball, it helps in some way. In reality, it's like nails on a chalkboard. I guess you might frighten your batters, or make them die of laughter...
Which brings me to thing number 2 about the softball class. It has kids in it who look to be no more than 6 or 7. These kids are being taught fast-pitch softball. Now I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure I've read that people shouldn't play fast-pitch until they are teenagers because their rotator cuff is not developed enough to take the stress. But here they are, all overseen by their parents, in whose eyes you can practically see the dollar signs floating as they envision their children becoming sports stars and providing them with their retirement. I have a personal message for these parents. To paraphrase Bill Hicks, "kill yourself". Seriously. Go home, take some pills, cut your wrists, put a bullet in your brain, jump off a bridge, whatever tickles your fancy. Just do it. The fact that you are auctioning your kids entire childhood (some of these kids are in there 5 days a week) and risking injuries that will haunt them for life, all so you can roll the dice on your kid being the next Tiger Woods or Reggie Bush and you can retire in luxury. Go buy a lottery ticket. Better yet, buy some mutual funds and stop auctioning your kids for money that likely isn't going to come. You may as well just sell them into prostitution. At least that money's guaranteed. But the suicide idea is really the best one. Try that first...
I saw a commercial today for one of the 8000 new sleep aids. This one is called Lunestra. The ad features people taking Lunestra, then settling down to rest. As they do this, a luminescent purple butterly flutters in and lands on their beds. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but if you're taking a pill that makes you see glow-in-the-dark purple butterflies, there's a good chance what you're taking is LSD. Just saying...
Ah, I love the smell of poetic justice in the morning. Yes, that is a Republican, the party of family values, gay marriage bans, and "the internet is a bunch of tubes" that you see in the latest scandal. He may look like a gay pedophile predator using the internet to lure unsuspecting children to debauchery, but he's really part of the moral majority, bringing this country back to the teachings of God. Yep, that's it...
Well, it's pretty much official. Winning my fantasy football league last year was a fluke. I suck. I'm winless in one league and sitting at .500 in another. To all the people who encouraged me to take Cadillac Williams in the first round, I would like to dedicate the following obscene gesture to you...
Joan and I went to the Ryman last weekend to see Alice Cooper in concert. It's the fourth time I've seen Alice and Joan's second. I think I've officially made her a fan. Alice may be getting up in years but there is no better showman on Earth. I've seen hundreds of bands in my lifetime and, frankly, it's not even close.
That's all I've got for now. Maybe more later. Hopefully this satisfies my Annie Wilkes and gets me off the hook for a little while.
Still doing the diet thing, still doing the exercise thing. I wish I could tell you it's going gangbusters, but it really isn't. I have for the last couple of months been on the weight loss trampoline. I'm up one week, I'm down one week, I'm up a while, I'm down again. In the end, much like NASCAR, I'm in much the same place I began. I'm not amused. But I'm also at a loss for how to fix it.
While the gym has never been my favorite place, it's been near unbearable. This is because it's time again for the softball classes in the gym below. My walking time has become infested with loud, annoying girls who all seem to think that if you screech every time you throw the ball, it helps in some way. In reality, it's like nails on a chalkboard. I guess you might frighten your batters, or make them die of laughter...
Which brings me to thing number 2 about the softball class. It has kids in it who look to be no more than 6 or 7. These kids are being taught fast-pitch softball. Now I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure I've read that people shouldn't play fast-pitch until they are teenagers because their rotator cuff is not developed enough to take the stress. But here they are, all overseen by their parents, in whose eyes you can practically see the dollar signs floating as they envision their children becoming sports stars and providing them with their retirement. I have a personal message for these parents. To paraphrase Bill Hicks, "kill yourself". Seriously. Go home, take some pills, cut your wrists, put a bullet in your brain, jump off a bridge, whatever tickles your fancy. Just do it. The fact that you are auctioning your kids entire childhood (some of these kids are in there 5 days a week) and risking injuries that will haunt them for life, all so you can roll the dice on your kid being the next Tiger Woods or Reggie Bush and you can retire in luxury. Go buy a lottery ticket. Better yet, buy some mutual funds and stop auctioning your kids for money that likely isn't going to come. You may as well just sell them into prostitution. At least that money's guaranteed. But the suicide idea is really the best one. Try that first...
I saw a commercial today for one of the 8000 new sleep aids. This one is called Lunestra. The ad features people taking Lunestra, then settling down to rest. As they do this, a luminescent purple butterly flutters in and lands on their beds. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but if you're taking a pill that makes you see glow-in-the-dark purple butterflies, there's a good chance what you're taking is LSD. Just saying...
Ah, I love the smell of poetic justice in the morning. Yes, that is a Republican, the party of family values, gay marriage bans, and "the internet is a bunch of tubes" that you see in the latest scandal. He may look like a gay pedophile predator using the internet to lure unsuspecting children to debauchery, but he's really part of the moral majority, bringing this country back to the teachings of God. Yep, that's it...
Well, it's pretty much official. Winning my fantasy football league last year was a fluke. I suck. I'm winless in one league and sitting at .500 in another. To all the people who encouraged me to take Cadillac Williams in the first round, I would like to dedicate the following obscene gesture to you...
Joan and I went to the Ryman last weekend to see Alice Cooper in concert. It's the fourth time I've seen Alice and Joan's second. I think I've officially made her a fan. Alice may be getting up in years but there is no better showman on Earth. I've seen hundreds of bands in my lifetime and, frankly, it's not even close.
That's all I've got for now. Maybe more later. Hopefully this satisfies my Annie Wilkes and gets me off the hook for a little while.
posted by Gryphon at 11:02 PM
3 comments
