j020610 (imported)
June 10, 2002
I changed my weightlifting routine today and let me say it ROCKS when you’re seriously concerned at the end of your workout with whether or not you’re actually going to be able to get up off the floor, because you’ve slaughtered your upper body so well.
Did anyone see the show on the Discovery Channel last night called “Big as Life: Obesity in America”? Don’t worry if you didn’t, there wasn’t a lot to see. Mostly, if I may summarize, we were taught several things. I’ve included my comments in [brackets]:
- Americans are fat. [No shit.]
- Being fat sucks. [Indeed it does.]
- It’s hard to lose weight. [Baloney. Choose healthful foods, and move your ass.]
- There’s almost no hope for fat people, except things like surgery. [Again, baloney.]
Why can’t these channels ever actually make shows with a semi-positive message? I mean, it IS possible to lose weight and keep it off without resorting to drastic surgical procedures, right? Surely there’s SOMEONE who’s done it. Why can’t they make a show about THAT?
But I digress.
Instead, we’re subjected to the same mindless drivel show after show, with the interspersed comments from our good buddies at the NAAFA. And let’s not even get me started on them, okay? It’s already hot enough without me adding my hot air about the NAAFA people.
People are only as fat as they choose to be, in most cases. Trust me, I know.
So I went over to my dad’s house yesterday for some assistance with a couple of home improvement items. Specifically, a modification to a big Rubbermaid pan so we can put our litter box (sorry Ozzies) in it, and some saw-work on wood for mounting a cat-door (again, my apologies to the ever-delicate Australians among us). I could’ve done both of these myself, but I lack the plethora of tools my father owns.
I’m serious, the man is Alabama’s answer to Norm Abrams.
I found something out while at my father’s house: I also lack the perfection gene he has. Holy cow. We used an X-acto knife (yes, if I’d known this is what he was going to use, I’d have done it my own damn self) to cut a big hole in the side of the Rubbermaid pan. Except if I’d done it, I’d have just cut the damn hole. I would NOT have spent fifteen minutes drawing lines and measuring the hole first.
Ditto with the duct tape we put around the lip of the cut. I’d have just PUT it there, not spent ten minutes making sure all the edges lined up perfectly. It’s not like the cats (oops, shit, sorry, you down-unders) give a flying fuck how the tape looks, and God knows we never actually have company here.
Except our parents.
Not that I’m dissing my dad; I’m not. I just lack the patience to make things that aren’t important to me be perfect. It ended up taking us almost three hours to cut a hole in a pan and make a hole for a cat door (dammit, there I go again) to be installed in. Not installing the cat door (oh, fuck me, I can’t stop talking about those cats (whoops!)), mind you, just cutting the hole for it.
On the lighter side, I found something in my dad’s basement that made the whole trip worthwhile…
Feeling like I should have a starring role
in "Butt Banging Beefcakes"
My gym shorts from my freshman year in high school, still in perfect condition. Of course, I seem to fill them up a little more these days, but still. And yes, I love to show off the cannonball.
Vanity. Yessir.
