Twi-nanigans

Sometimes things are just twi-nanigans! You may be asking yourself, 'what the heck does that even mean?' You are right in doing so, but you are naive in that you are not hip to the new fad of adding twi to the beginning of everything. It is all the rage. Twitter does it and so can I.

Everytime I log into Twitter... yes, I'm on Twitter,judge me... I am informed of a new word. Today's, for example, was Twi·stor·i - n. an ongoing and hypnotic social experiment.. Interesting, but still, not a word. Twi-nanigans I say.

In fact, even though I've been sucked down the Twitter drain I still find the entire concept odd. I think this video pretty much sums it up and I think you will find it hilarious. So click on this link : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PN2HAroA12w

"It seems like Twittering is just randomly bragging about your unexceptional life." BUT you also get definitions of fake words and can follow people without being a complete creep. Why didn't someone think of this sooner?

Sources sited: http://twitter.com/LigerBurns

The gymatorium Part Deux

I think, when constructing my gym, they grossly overestimated the midget population.

Serious question: Why are the drinking fountains at L.A. Fitness so short?
Don't say, "because people use them to fill their water bottles and their arms are too tired from lifting weights to slightly reach upward". That is not good enough.

It is sad and it is discriminatory, but the most logical conclusion is that they grossly overestimated the athletic, gym-going, midget population. I apologize on behalf of L.A. Fitness.

The Gymatorium Part I

DisclaiMER: I never once said I was nice and should you have ever assumed that then I'm sorry that I'm not sorry. Whew, glad I got that off my chest.

So, I went to the gym tonight. Planning on getting back in the swing of things. Let me set the scene. I was at L.A. Fitness. For those of you who may not be familiar with this gym or gyms in general it was more ridiculous than teen night at Cactus Moon or if you're from out of town *insert random dance club that allows teens on special nights*. Anyway, so I jammed my headphones into my ears to ensure that I could judge those around me with a soundtrack. Things were going great.

I see some typical macho guys...grunting of course, which, by the way, knock that shit off. Wear a muzzle. I don't care. Whatever you need to do, sir, to mute yourself. But this is pretty standard of the gym. Nothing new that I'm reporting. Another pretty standard gym observation is that at 7:30p.m. on a weekday literally EVERY machine is taken. I had to shove a baby out of my way to race a dude to a machine. Still, nothing out of the ordinary.

So, I'm on the bike... kicking ass and taking names (I might add)... and something wafts into the air. I know what you're thinking, someone blew ass? Nay. Something delightful is in the air. It is distinct. I am completely certain I smelled kettle corn. I chuckled to myself. Then I was kind of annoyed, how dare this person bring the delightful smell of roasted kettlish corn into the gym. Kind of inconsiderate if you ask me. So laughter, anger, then I'm in ponder mode. How does one smell like kettle corn? I came up with two ways:
1) they are sweating it through their pores.
Okay the street fair is in town. They sell you those ginormous bags. Someone clearly has downed 17 lbs of kettle corn and is now spilling it out through their pores. One, I'm glad you got to the gym chubbo, two, thanks for not smelling like something horrible, three, still kind of chapped that I am now fantasizing about scrumptious treats.
-or-
2) someone was wearing kettle corn flavored-smelling perfume
This option is just rude. I mean you might as well rub your body in a steak dinner and then hang out with all the chubsters trying to get healthy. Very inconsiderate. Also, kettle corn...really... that's your perfume of choice. I mean, it smells nice, but how about starbursts, french fries, or CHIPOTLE! Now that is delicious. I'm just sayin.

I get pulled over like it is MY JOB!

Is it just me? Am I being profiled for being a 24 year old female that drives a Volvo? I thought thugs, teenagers, and race car drivers were profiled.... well world this is not the case. I'm going to wallow in a pity party and drag you through it too.

So, you know those people who take traffic school EVERY 2 years like clockwork. It's like as soon as they get the opportunity they're in a frenzy to sign up. I'm that girl! But luckily it seems that I am pulled over almost habitually every two years, so I just take my traffic school, learn about the gore area, and call it a day. Well this has not been the case as of late.

Approximately two weeks ago I was pulled over and then AGAIN last night! Are you kidding me? So here's the scoop. About two weeks ago and 2 days someone informed me that I had a taillight out. Thank you Brent. I planned to tend to this emergency situation with the most rapid attention, however was unable to do so before TWO days later I am pulled over. I was on the way to go see The Watchmen and was now going to need to speed promptly following my pull-over to make it on time. Ironic, I know. Anyway the office lets me know that I, in fact, have a taillight out. Well, what do you know. Thank you kind officer for wasting paper on a fix it ticket. Good day.

So, a fix it ticket, no big deal, annoying at most.

Then last night I was pulled over AGAIN. So, luckily I had my fix-it ticket in my purse. I was all prepared to say, "yes officer I am aware that I need to fix my taillight and I fully intend to do so by the date in my previous ticket" and then bid him ado. But, noooooo Officer says he pulls me over for my speed to which I say, "Nay". Actually, I said, "I'm fairly certain I was moving with or below the flow of traffic". Apparently I was going 60mph. Whatever. Potato, po-tah-tow. Leave me alone and stop shining your lights in my eyes. Profiler.

Anyway, dude writes me a warning ticket. My first ever. Pretty big deal. Thanks for caring.

You know you're geriatric when...

I was recently inspired to write this when I began lying about my age. . .to be younger. I mean, it may have been to get a discount on my lift ticket for snowboarding, but lied to be younger nonetheless.

The term geriatric may be a stretch here, but I thought it would be comical to compose a cynical dissection of indicators that you may be geriatric, old, past your prime, or simply not a crazy party animal anymore. I asked friends of mine to contribute to the hilarity...and comtribute they did.

You know you're geriatric when:
~ You sleep in a sweater that reaches your knees. -KT
~ You're sore the next day from bowling. -KT
~ You're still hungover on Wednesday from drinking on Saturday. KT
~ You start counting how much fiber you've consumed per day. -KT
~ Everyone behind you honks and passes you on the highway. -KT
~ You Enjoy grocery shopping on a Saturday night. -KT
~ You refer to young people as "today's youth".
~ You're appalled when asked to leave the house past 9p.m. on a weeknight.
. . . you're equally offended by the invite to be out past 10p.m. on a weekend.
~ You say things like "I miss college" while you look through your facebook photos that you've set to private for fear that your employer might get ahold of them.
. . . Even worse, you don't miss college.
~ You get the Calcium boost at Jamba Juice because the impending doom of osteoperosis seems so close.
~ You can no longer understand rap lyrics
~ You go to the eye doctor far more frequestly than you go to the bar. -KM
~ You curl up to watch your dvr'd American Idol which you had to tape so you could go to your book club. -SB
~ 8:30PM feels like 2AM. -JB & -LM
~ You refer to technology as hard.

Feel free to contribute via comment. I will give a PRIZE to the person who makes me laugh the hardest.