Secretly Sexy

As a rule I don't let anyone look through my ipod. Especially not my working-out playlist. Too many songs that bring me guilty pleasure.

Today I was working out and feeling all good about it. Thoughts like, "Yeah!" were basically dominating my brain activity.

Blame it on endorphins, blame it on my general lack of a sensor, but before I caught myself I was singing, "Bringin' Sexy Back" out loud. (Out loud!)

I didn't even notice until I looked up at the mirror and saw the guy next to me staring. I looked over as nonchalantly as possible, gave a small nod and said, "hey."

He didn't say anything.

I went back to cycling and after a small grace period, left.

Not completely because I was embarrassed (I was), more because someone knows my secret that I know every word to "Bringin' Sexy Back".

Dear Abe

Happy Birthday!

I like this picture of us.

I like you more.

In fact I love you.

Measured

Two parking lots, one car wash garage, a hole in the fence, a reusable cup, and sixty cents later…

A measurable amount of joy.

44 ounces to be exact.

Stands with a Fist...?

Today I noticed this:

Looks an awful lot like this:

If only I had some leather fringe.

My Day with Alexander

I didn’t realize my day was so bad until I called Mom and told her about it. She laughed and told me I should write a book about my day. “It could beat Alexander,” she said.

It’s true. In the last picture of this book Alexander ends up hugging someone he loves. Sunshine, crayons, and a blanket are all present.

My day ended with me throwing up. No hugging. No sunshine. No crayons.

I won. Or lost. Either way I plan on ditching Alexander tomorrow.

The Old Woman and the Gym

My journal entry from a few weeks ago went something like this:

Tonight I went with some friends to the Peking Acrobats. Amidst all the amazing (and audience-stress inducing) talent all I could think of was a conversation between myself and the old woman who issues required clothing at the gym. It went something like this:

Me: Can I get a size X swimming suit please?
OW (in thick Russian accent): I don’t think you know what size you are. Do you know what size you are?
Me: Oh. Uh. Yes?
OW: I don’t think you do. Size X is for the little Asian girls. Girls like this (holding up hands about three inches apart). You are like this (hands a bit further apart).
Me: ……
OW: Here is size Y.

It was too big.

Bleh

Our water heater is broken.

So is our heater.

It's hard to recover from a day that starts with a cold shower, an apartment that is 65 degrees, and an outside tempeture of 4.