Fly, Fat-Ass, Fly!

My god, the world got fat. Not Phat, sick, wicked or any other vernacular that I'm not current enough to know about, but just plain fat. I'm not claiming to be in perfect shape yet, (look out Ahhnold, I'm coming for you in a while, and I'm going to run for governor too, wait, I'm not American. Nevermind) but I am starting to approach the physique that I want to achieve. I didn't go out and spend a shitload of money, sign up for a six day a week regiment with some guy resembling the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket, or change my diet so I am only eating lettuce, but I did start doing something. I'm simply working out. I'm not shitting on any of the above methods, as they work for people, but what I am saying is that you don't have to bust a nut and your bank account to get into shape and lose some weight. I really don't care if you do or not, just a suggestion. Now, you may ask yourself, why is the rev ragging on the club that he used to be part of? It's not for any good reason I assure you. I just happened to notice something driving home from Jefe's today after work (we'll get back to that in a bit).

I happened to take the long way home today, through downtown kitchener, to get home. Partially because I hadn't gone through the slums in a while, partially because the scenery (ahem, read as fine examples of the opposite sex) is better than on the expressway, and partially because I just love driving. Ok, mainly is was to watch the scenery (I can have a male pig moment occasionally folks), and that is when I noticed the growing (pun intended) trend in society. I'm talking about sparks flying off of the backs of cars because they are riding too low and asses that deserve their own zip code here. Now, when I was part of the mass challenged club I felt it everyday. I felt like shit, and it showed. It was just a matter of doing something about it, and I can tell you that getting started was as hard as quitting the smokes. Many false starts later I whipped my ass into line and started the whole process. I'm not one of those people who enjoy working out (I find it about as monotonous as watching paint dry), but I suck it up and do my workouts. I think that's the point I'm trying to make here. I'm not any worse off for working out, and it's not like I'm losing a day a week doing this (just about three hours actually) that I would probably spend watching movies or surfing the internet, so it's a win-win. Just put down the fork and pick up some weights.

I dropped by Jefe's after work to buy his dremel off of him. He hated it and I hate the one I had. I needed a dremel to finish the project I'm working on right now and mine wasn't up for the task. Mine is this wireless jobber that I got as a parting gift from my marriage. Hmm...Bitterman could have a field day with that one. Anyways, no, I'm not saying what the project is, but don't worry, there will be pictures posted of it when it's done. It's completely geek, and utterly stupid, but I wasn't using my kitchen for anything anyways. Why would I be using my kitchen for a workshop? Simple answer. Because there is a car in my garage. We all cool with that? Good. I'm not practicing to become a redneck and have half an engine in my bathtub, no matter what Newtie thinks, it's just the most practical place for me to work. I only cook big things when there is company coming over, or I just bring the food over to the companies house and cook there, so I might as well put my counter top to use. I don't think my neighbors like it much, but tough titty said the kitty. I don't need another project unfinished, and if it's in the kitchen I'll actually finish it to get my kitchen back at some point.

Remember I was talking about all the little things that actually make up the good bits of our day? I had a small moment like that today and as stupid as it was, it made me feel good. Another of my parting gifts/punishments/consolation prizes (I'll take what's in the box Monty) was the degu. For those of you who don't know what a degu is, the more common name for it is Kangaroo Rat. For those of you who don't know what a kangaroo rat is, think of a chinchilla crossed with a gerbil with a healthy dose of amphetamine thrown in. It has the personality of rather dumb cheerleader. Let me clear that up, incredibly cute and friendly, but isn't entirely sure where it is on any given day. Because of the proximity to the chinchilla bloodlines, they like to “bathe” in dust. They roll around in the white dust and coat themselves in it looking like some little lost goth kid. Back to the story. So I pick some dust for her (it's been awhile since she had any), pay entirely too much for it considering it's just dust, and give her some when I got home. I know that those in the rat family really don't have emotions but I could swear I got a look saying, “about time fucker, but I'll forgive you”. It kinda made me smile. See, I told you it was stupid.

Off to project land. One last thing to mention. After seeing the popularity of Bork, Bork, Bork! I think I'm going to try and throw a song up every two to three weeks or so. I swear, it wasn't supposed to get popular, but I'll take it. I figure I'll put up enough to fill a CD and then release some album art for everyone to grab. Don't say I never gave you anything.