First of all, one day after lauding myself for my 4.4 pound beef purchase, we now encounter the problem with having so much fresh meat and no freezer. Didn't forecast that one in my crystal ball, so now I'm trying to roast all these pieces, and hope I have enough tupperwear so provide myself tasty morsels throughout the week. Do you know how long it takes to roast all that beef? Me neither, so I'll be up a while figuring it out. Bam!
Now, on to my new nemesis, Craig. I thought we were tight, CDP. I thought our roommate relationship was something special. What happened to trust, companionship, and mutual nursing? So for those of you not familiar with this new trifle, I purchased the NFL gamepass for this weekend for $25, so I could watch the patriots, my golden boys. Craig, using his unawares as an excuse, sent me a message on Skizype that the pats won 40-7. Cold Blooded. I didn't even know craig (no more capital c for you, Judas) watched football; he's always been more of a field hocky fanatic. His reporting prowess belongs with the songwriting skills of Milli Vanilli. If you see this man, do not divulge your secrets. President Logan over here will be happy to blab them to anyone listening. Given my recent discovery of my mental firepower, you don't want me conjuring up images of you bald and having lost your exfoliating loofa; it just might happen. I'll let it slide this time for the ice purchases you made for me, but I swear I'll bewitched your ass back to an age lacking bath and body works.
Good news. I fit my meat into 2 containers obtained at a pampered chef tupperware party. I feel so pampered. Bam.
There are groups of people I hate at the gym, no matter the country in which I am getting swole. For instance, guys wearing too little clothing, chubby girls wearing too little clothing, people lifting right in front of equipment I want to use, sweaty dudes leaving behind a trail of slime like a tree snail, and just anyone who detracts from my aura in general. Another group I hate are the gym staff who take pride in having a position of authority, and feel the need to remind you of this authority. Don't point out that I'm not using weight clips, then try to imply I don't know how to lift, and then watch me like a hawk to make sure I don't break anymore "rules". Look, because you're a monitor, and not an actual personal trainer, I'd rather you not take it out on the object of your jealousy...someone who actually accomplishes something in the gym, namely me (it's tough to accept such a specimen into your jurisdiction, Yosemite Sam, but you're gonna have to just let me do my thing while you "help" spot girls on the squat rack). Fuck.
But an even worse display of peacockery (the unnecessary preening, not the more recent object of my ire) was a girl who decided it was prudent to remove her shirt and continue her workout in her sports bra. This shit would never fly if a guy took his shirt off, for which he would be ridiculed, but this tramp does it and has 2 guys immediately assist with her training regimen. And she was not attractive, I can't be more clear. Her body was not great, I'm sure it was in the process of improving, but so is the socioeconomic structure of Somalia, and I'm not interested in visiting there.
All I know is, if I tried that shit, I'd be escorted out, yet no one said shit to this girl. And no, I'm not making a big deal of it because she distracted me -- I just ignored her and focused even more on my workout; I wish everyone did the same and shunned her. Welcome to countless paternity tests on the Maury Povich show, soulless groupie.
The best part about being wound into a tizzy, is exacting revenge on your plate of sushi, which immediately soothes your mood ring into a serene blue. God I love sushi, mmmm
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