I sometimes wonder about continuing my adventures in blogging. Not to disappoint the five or six dogged souls who read this garbage I spew, and the eight or nine who wonder in from figure skating boards, spam sites and the vast reaches of cyberspace. But my life is in stasis, and I am totally BLERGH. First, the beauty of photos (which are also viewable from the Flickr link).
I think it must look, to the experienced “knittah,” like I’ve regressed, but frankly, I try to make things that I think will sell. And I’m not a very fast knitter, so I can’t make some über-complex thing that I’d have to overprice, anyway.
These items were brought to you by the Olympics. I knit or started most of them during the fortnight. It’s over, and I’m glad, in a way.
So here’s the deal: I started going to the gym again. I HATE going to the gym, but I got fat all of a sudden. I didn’t put on pounds, but my gut started pooching out, and I just don’t know how or why or what I could do about it. So, every morning, off to the seventh layer of hell that is the gym. I have no results to show yet, but I’ll keep going until I do, or my membership runs out, which is June 25. I figure I’ll run it into the ground, literally speaking.
Why do I hate the gym?
1) OLD PEOPLE. We have the “silver sneakers” crew who come in and clog it up. They are slow. The women wear tons of perfume (Youth Dew, anyone?). They annoy me. I don’t like them.
2) The hot chick show off. You know her. Every gym has one. This chica struts around and does nothing but:
a) Show off on the tower of pain stair-stepper, which used to be my fave apparatus. She does it for five minute intervals, LOOKING AT HER ASS in the mirro all the time. GAH!
b) Show off on the pull up bars. Look – a pull up is one of the hardest things for a man, let alone a woman to do. I’m real proud that tiny ass can do them. But she does ten, drops off and swans around before hitting the bars again. Show off much?
I walked in the other day, and she was hogging the front desk, asking for so-and-so (her crush? boyfriend?trainer?) and standing in my way so I couldn’t key in. I may be short and round, but when I need to get on the treadmill, you better MOVE BITCH, and GET OUT THE WAY.
I don’t think I need to tell you she did. Freight train coming through, ya’ll.
Anyway, we’ll see how long this lasts. The blogging, and the gym. I am going through a tough time — the unemployment runs out in about a month, and after applying for about 100 jobs during the Olympics, NADA. I contacted a temp agency on the rec. of a friend today, filled out an online app, and was supposed to get a call back about coming in next week, but no call back. So I’ll call AGAIN on Monday. And I even applied at Starbucks, but that was just this week, and I’ve heard nothing after taking their monstrous personality test.
Personality tests: the new hell. Used to be you went to college, got a degree, proved yourself in the workplace and won awards for your efforts. That’s what I did. But now I have to pass some Blade Runner Myers-Briggs piece of shit test. So if you wonder why I’m cranky and don’t feel like blogging, well, now you know.
Happy Crackin’ Friday!