Two Open Letters

To the woman in my Monday night watercolor painting class:

I understand completely that you feel that, at your advanced age, taking a painting class for the first time since you were probably in grade school, you might be a bit out of your depth. I feel for you that your talent is probably not up to the caliber you were hoping for, what with your inability to draw and all.

But I'm sick of hearing about it.

It's so nice for you that one of your co-workers is taking the class with you. It gives you someone to talk to, giggle with, share your outlooks on how much better all the other students paints are in comparison to your own unpleasant neophyte scribblings.

Now please shut up.

To the 105 pound Tara Reid look-a-like -- your golden tresses cascading over your milky white shoulders which showed through the torn off collar of your tight t-shirt with the word JUICY printed on the front, splayed over your pert, perky breasts -- who showed up at Weight Watchers last night:

What the hell?

Perhaps later I can join you at a meeting of Bleach Blonds Anonymous, where I'm sure I'd look just as in place as your skinny ass did at WW.

The Mafia "Do"

I guess its time for a haircut. This morning the wife told me with my current hair I'm starting to look like Paulie Walnuts.

The Attitude Toward Platitudes

So, the whole Weight Watcher's thing, which I'm constantly bitching about? (Except for the last two weeks, apparently...) Yeah, that's going nowhere fast.

I re-upped for another ten weeks, but I've fallen off the wagon mentally and I fear there's no getting back on. Perhaps if I can stay at this weight (down 19 to 21 pounds, depending on the week) until January of next year, then I rejoin, maybe then I could get a handle on the next 20 pounds.

I am only staying at about every other meeting, just to punish myself when I go up a pound at this point. During meetings, all I do is sit and think of things to say if I'm asked a question so I'll sound oh so funny. They usually revolve around my saying things like "Hey, what the hell, I thought there was supposed to be a buffet here!" When the group was quizzed on the best ways to save time -- not sure why... more time to stuff our faces with pie, perhaps? -- it actually took some will power not to raise my hand and suggest that "you should flush while still peeing." The efficiency of that action would likely have been lost on a room full of females.

I took a notebook with me the last few meetings, did some plotting one night, made a list of things to do around the house this summer... and I also copied down all the platitudes that are spouted, apparently to get us through the week. Well, everyone except me, since I hold them up for ridicule instead of taking them to heart like a good soldier against over-eating should.

Here's the best of the last few weeks, with some translations. Keep in mind, these get repeated A LOT.

Turn over a new leaf! (This is always accompanied by the hands held together horizontally, palms flat, and flipping them over so the other hand is on the bottom. It is meant to convey my ability to incite change in my own life. About as likely as my throwing away the liquor filled chocolates on top of the fridge we've had since Xmas.)

It's not in here! (A bit of whimsy to put on the fridge to remind you that goodness comes without calories. I'd hang it there, but then where would I put all my take out menus?)

Give yourself a hand! (This usually is said when the group goes quiet, and has nothing to say. As nature abhors a vacuum, so a WW group host abhors silence.)

It's okay -- to leave food on your plate! (The ultimate gotcha. Which, of course, flies in the face of children being told for decades that "there's kids starving in Africa! Clean your plate!" So is the starving kids thing an excuse to eat, or the truth? What would Sally Struthers say?)

The plainer the food the better! (Uh.... no.)

Feel good about yourself! (Gosh darn it, people like me, so I don't need cake.)

If you believe it, you can achieve it! (Okay. I believe I can make fudge brownies without any calories. In fact, they would perform some kind of internal liposuction.).

Zero's are zero's forever! (That either means 'everything in moderation' or 'math is hard.')

Posted by Eric G. at 09:31 AM | Comments (2)

What, I don't get a Purple Heart?

How Blogs Save Lives

Got this today in Instant Messages from my friend, Major Bill with the US Army (he usually does more before 9am than I do all week):

[SCREENNAME WITHHELD]: Recalling a Blog you wrote a while back about your kidney stone, I decided to get a stomach pain checked Tuesday afternoon. 10 hours later I was in the OR and my appendix was taken from me. Your Blog saved my life...or at least made my surgery easier since I did not wait until my appendix exploded like a puss filled stomach bomb.

The heady feeling of knowing I saved his life was marred slightly by our conversation degenerating into how he should legally change his name to "Malfunction Numbnutts" so it would be funny when he's introduced ("Major Malfunction Numbnutts"... get it? Any Kubrick fans out there? R. Lee Ermey? Sheesh....). Bill said it wouldn't fit on his uniform. Stupid Army tailors.

Roar of the Greasepaint

I'd forgotten what a crash and burn like this could feel like. It's like a mix of jet lag after a trip from the West coast, mixed with sadness over never saying hi to that cute girl who smiled at you, tossed in with a touch of that feeling you get after you take a swig of milk and swallow it -- just before the tangy flavor hits that tells you it has moved past the expiration date.

I'm talking about the day after. For me, today is the day after I was in my first "theatrical" performance since May of the year 1988... almost 16 years ago. I use quotes around "theatrical" only because our little play last night wasn't performed in a theater, but at the local gay nightclub/bar. Still, footlights are footlights, dammit.

After basically two weeks of working on it with little else to think about, doing actually blocking of scenes (not something my old high school choir director slash play director was big on... it was more of a "here's a script, be ready by May" kind of thing), memorizing lines that didn't exactly flow (who knew satire was filled with so many non sequiturs?) and then having a very successful show where I only almost blew one line (I recovered), today is just like such a downer, man. Like, what is there to look forward, too? Work? Blah. I should have taken the day off. I've had a low grade headache for hours. Plus I actually blew up and yelled at my computer screen once today... I've recently subscribed to RSS Feeds for a bunch of blog sites that cover Wi-Fi exclusively and they were all posting tons of news on stuff I hadn't even seen yet today. And I screamed "Christ, there's too much, I can't keep up!" And the dogs jumped and I went back to trying to write about access points and hotspots and authentication protocols.

Love Letter to DST

I would like to publicly thank Benjamin Franklin for the glorious invention he made that will make the world feel right again this weekend. I'm not talking about donning spectacles again (five plus years sans glasses and going strong!) or being hit by lightning. The man actually came up with the idea for Daylight Savings Time. Genius. (Visit WebExhibits for more information on DST than you could even imagine exists.)

Of course, we don't really save any actual daylight, its an illusion, but one I find far more satisfying than making a CGI Legolas climb a giant elephant. Though that is pretty cool. The malaise of the winter will lift, the useful hours of the day will extend past five p.m. and all will be right with the world. (People of Indiana, Arizona and Hawaii, you suffer greatly for not experiencing the joys of it. Then again, you probably never see snow so screw you.)

The wife and I have a grand tradition of forgetting to set the clocks ahead each spring going back to college, and then ending up an hour early for everything on that first Sunday in April and wondering where the hell everyone is. I'm looking foreward to it so much this year, that won't be an issue. I'll likely have all the clocks reset by Saturday at noon. I mean one.

Couple all this with the release of Hellboy, and I'm one frickin' happy camper.