Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Weed does Trololo


Have you seen Trololo?

No?

Well, it's perhaps the most amazing thing I've ever encountered. My friend Mary Matthews had it on her phone the other day, and she was trying to play it for me and a few other people, and truth be told, I just didn't get it then. But then she sent me the link. And I pressed "click" and then saw a video that pretty much consummated my entire existence.

Would you like to see it?



I don't know if you fully comprehend what you just watched, but I'm pretty sure angels just trumpeted and that you are going to have an amazing day and probably find a penny from 1966, the year this video footage was recorded and that if you buy a lottery ticket you probably might win.

I, for one, haven't been able to stop thinking about this since I saw it. And neither has Wife.

Which led to this:



That performance was dedicated to Wife and to Mary Matthews and to Eduard Khil. And to my mother. And to the 1960's. And to Dionne Warwick.



Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Ursula is My New Best Friend aka I Exploit Relationships

Here's where we're at.

A few weeks ago, I was feeling really discouraged about the fact that I had about four trillion post drafts, but my ADD or pesky self respect or whatever wouldn't allow me to finish them. I opened my email to find a $5.00 donation to my blog from my new friend Ursula saying she had really enjoyed a particular post. I was very touched and I wrote her the following email:

Ursula,

Your donation just entirely made my day and possibly my week! Thank you so much for giving this scatterbrained blogger some much-needed encouragement. Maybe now I can muster the mental wherewithal to finish my post on the extent of my nerdiness in high school and how it affects me at the gym, ha. The Lionel Richie post is one of my favorites ;-)

Again, thanks so much!


Josh (The Weed)


She replied with: 

Josh,

From one recovering high-school-nerd to another, I hope you enjoy the rest of your week!  I look forward to reading more of your blog!  I don't know if this helps or not, but you're reaching people thousands of miles away, in the remotest parts of the world. :)  -Me for example! :)

Take Care,

Ursula 

And she included a map of where she is entitled "Location of your newest fan."


THEN, I mentioned this donation in a hard-hitting expose about the economy

A few days later, I checked my email, and there was another donation, but this time for even more money. And it was from Ursula!!! She said:

Thanks for the Blog Shout-Out! :) I think that's the first time I was mentioned on the internet! :)



Wow! How cool is that! It just goes to show you how giving and supportive people can be. I think it should be pretty obvious why I'm mentioning this on my blog. It's because I wanted to thank her for her awesomeness.

Thanks Ursula!!!!! A lot!!! I wanted to thank you with another shout out! An even bigger shout out than before! Did you catch that? EVEN BIGGER. I'm "giving more" of a shout out this time, Ursula! Thanks!

(Sits at computer pressing "refresh" on Paypal over and over and over....)
  

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The Gym Part Two, or Why I am a Winner UPDATED WITH A BREAKING NEWS BULLETIN

Something very odd has happened.

You know the competition I entered at the gym when I walked in to lose weight and everyone was like "you should probably gain some weight" and so I joined the biggest gainer and have been working out harder than I ever have before in my life to gain tons of muscle mass?

 Why hello there. I see you've come to the gym to gain weight. Because why else would an obese creature like yourself be here?
(Also, personal mission: don't have a cat photo in the next five posts)

Well, I'm winning the competition. By like, a lot.

Normally, this kind of thing would be really awesome in every way! But, I've been having some difficulties. It pretty much boils down to this: I have no idea how to respond normally to praise about athletic accomplishments. And it's getting ridiculous. I think my trainer is wondering if I might actually be an idiot savant.

It's easy to explain why this is happening. I mean, when I was in high school I was three Magic the Gathering cards away from being the kid who literally ran from class to class like a bull with his head down knocking people over as he went.(Clarification: I never actually played Magic the Gathering. But I probably should have. Because it might have taken me up the social ladder.) I just had so many strikes against me. I mean, I was a violinist who wrote poems and sang in the choir and was a lead(ish) in the school play and did not play sports and cried a lot and had a menstrual cycle and did I mention that I'm currently married to a beautiful woman? Because I think that's important to emphasize at the end of that sentence.

When this is what high school (i.e. the glory years of youth) looked like for you, then when you start winning weightlifting competitions in your early 30's you have exchanges that end up looking something like the following:


I am at the gym, working my butt off. I'm in the middle of flipping a tractor tire across the gym floor. I am not training with Brandon, my trainer, today but the results are posted in the entrance, indicating that I'm number one. Suddenly I hear his voice. 

Brandon: (whoops from across the gym) Who is number one!!!???? 

Me: (looks up like a deer sensing danger, unsure of how to react) 

Brandon: (bellows as he approaches, starts addressing everyone on the floor) That guy right there looks the type of beast that takes first place! 

Me: (looks around at everyone on the gym floor nervously)

Brandon: That guy over there flipping the tire? He's the kind of guy that's NUMBER ONE (hoots) 

Me: *curtsies daintily*

Brandon..... 

Me: *bows deeply realizing the curtsy was all wrong* 

Brandon: (now having gotten over to me) You're doing awesome, man! Good job. (gives me a high five) 

Me: (Completely misses Brandon's hand in the high five and stumbles forward due to the momentum while uttering) Top of the mornin' to ya! 

Brandon: (deep breath, head shake)...So, you almost done working out? 

Me:  Thanks! 

Brandon: (stares at me in confusion)

(awkward silence) 

Me:... well, this tire isn't going to flip across the entire gym floor itself, so I best get to it. (stumbles forward) 

Brandon: Hit it hard! 

Me: (actually hits the tire hard) 

Brandon: Your work out. Hit your workout hard. (Pats me on the shoulder) 

Me: (flinches like a girl at the shoulder pat) Oh, okay. Yeah. I totally will hit it hard. 

Brandon: (walks away baffled)

I'm pretty sure even the gym machines feel uncomfortable for me during such exchanges.

But what's worse is I have no idea, whatsoever, how to talk trash. Apparently the guy right below me is some young punk who's at the gym all the time and Brandon's like "yeah, him and his trainer are talking a lot of sh*#, saying they're gonna take you."

I know my response should be something really bad-A, like maybe "you tell that young whipper-snapper that he's certainly got his work cut out for him coming up against this jokester!" *jolly fist pump* but instead my brain short-circuits and has a fear reaction, and all I want to say is "TELL HIM NOT TO HURT ME. I don't actually mean to be getting stronger. All this new muscle is just for decoration. You tell him to leave me alone."

It's all very awkward, and makes me subconsciously want to self sabotage and start eating ho hos like they're going out of style. (NEWS UPDATE: ho hos are 100% out of style.)

Tomorrow I go in to see the newest results. I really want to win this thing because I want the $. But for reasons I think are obvious, there's a part of me that kinda hopes the young whipper-snapper has taken his place at the top, and I can then feel comfortable back in my zone of mediocrity, totally out of the line of sight of anybody's trash talking or high fives or loud bellows.

Maybe then I can have a conversation with my trainer that doesn't end in him thinking he's Tom Cruise and I'm Rain Man.

I couldn't find a picture to go with this post, and wife looked up "awkward exercise" and uncovered this gem, which she insisted I put in because she somehow feels like it fits and I'm still not sure why.

(Any ideas on what the caption of the buffalo/little person in the kitchen photo should be, or how it relates to me winning a weightlifting competition?)

BREAKING NEWS BULLETIN:

You might assume that I am referencing the fact that the Dow Jones just dropped 500points, but I don't give a crap about that! That won't affect me!

My news is even more important.

The results are in, and I'm still in first place in the competition. Imma take this thing.
Also, what I said to Brandon as I left the gym today: "Hey man, thanks. You teach me so much. How to have proper form as I do free weights. How to position myself for squats. How to give a high five that makes contact... you really go the extra mile."  

Photo attribution here.