tossin’ it twice (a double, nay triple, throwback)

so, even though i did TWO bits on this particular day, somehow neither have made their way into the archives…

…so, today, we fix that. starting with:

05/09/2002: “addressing your concerns”

okay, so for all who emailed, and voice mailed, and called (’bout damn time you called!!! sorry…that just slipped out…did i mention i’ll be in SA most of thursday?), YES the ‘whore was “on it’s back” for most of the day wednesday, ocho de mayo. the comments were a mix of, “this sucks…i have nothing new to read at work” to, “honey..are you okay?”

well, it went down apparently in the twenty minutes it took for me to write the bit below, ’cause it worked fine for me to get into my text input screen, but when i logged back on to post, no go. but since the server’s actually located across the pond in the u.k (which should explain the oft asked qestion about why the posts are listed in GMT, or Greenwich Mean Time), the absence of the site does not reflect my personal security or stability. although the content therein should reflect a definite LACK of mental stability. but that’s why y’all love me, (at least one or two of you…shut up, kramer) and that’s all good.

so, while they may cook a mean leg of lamb, kick ass at soccer, or make a sexy ass convertible (electrical problems aside), they occasionally fuck up. like the whole “warm beer” thing. or the fact they can’t pronounce the “H” in “Hello” (or any other “H” starting word, for that matter). or WWII. but try not to bring up that last one; they’re touchy about that. watch, now it’ll go down for WEEKS this time…

and then that was followed by:

05/09/2002: “oh yeah (slackers, part ii)”

so, i watched the piece on exercise addiction, and couldn’t believe what i saw….there was a “doctor” who said there were three signs of exercise addiction. three MAIN ones. are you ready for this?

1. letting your exercise routine interrupt your work or personal life.
2. feeling anxious or apprehensive about working out.
3. feeling guilty if you DON’T exercise.

okay, i’ll grant you, the first one kinda makes sense. if you skip out on friends, or family, or your boss so you can hit the hike and bike trail for three laps, then yeah, you might just have a problem. but the other two? you MUST be kidding…

EVERYBODY feels a bit anxious or apprehensive about working out. if you’re a guy, a part of that is the fear you’ll look bad. or like a wuss. but no woman is gonna look at a guy in a tank top and shorts in some odd position all sweaty and grunting and get turned on (and if the thought of ME that way does something for you, use the email link at the top right of the page immediately). so, i you’re feeling that way, and are therefore causing yourself mental anguish just so you can show off for the GUYS in the gym, you MUST be gay. hate to break it to you. tonight is two for one kamikaze night in josh’s living room, courtesy of his room mates. NOT him. just wanted to pick on him for a sec.

and a woman might have similar fears. maybe you feel you’ve let yourself go, and you’re just not turning the heads the way you used to, or always hoped to. don’t worry. it’s been my experience that there is typically a rule of two here. ninety-nine percent of women fall into this rule. ladies, we find you TWICE as attractive as you THINK we would. it’s true. and for some of you, it’s more like ten times as much. so relax.

as far as the whole “guilty about not working out” thing is concerned, you SHOULD if you’re trying to get in shape. there have been times i’ve skipped the gym to go drinking with friends and felt guilty about it, which i feel makes sense. hell, last night i was supposed to be out of the office by 5:00, and doing legs at the gym by 6:00; but since i didn’t even get out of the office till 8:15, i didn’t go. after an eleven hour work day, that would make sense; but i still felt guilty, and i DON’T have a problem. or to be more accurate, i don’t have THAT problem.

however, austin has MORE than it’s share of slackers. hell, it’s where the MOVIE “slackers” was written, directed, and filmed. and now they have a new reason to NOT leave the couch. because they feel guilty about doing so, and there for have an iron-pumping monkey to get off their back. never mind the fact that the only barbell they’ve ever lifted is the one through their tongue….

2019 note – traditionally i put the comments in the archival version, but not here. since this is, quite possibly, the longest comment left in the seventeen plus year history of this site, i decided to include it…

Replies: 1 Comment

okay, sean, i know i’m about to ask your loyal male readers (hook a sister up, by the way!!) to break a cardinal rule and possibly sacrifice their man-cards, but i have to ask this question, and i’m hoping that someone out there in bubba-land can give me an answer.

why is it that some men feel the need to get into dick-measuring contests, going down the highway at 95 miles an hour WITH A WOMAN??

allow me to explain.

i slept in this morning like a good little austin slacker. no desire to get out of bed. unfortunately, the commute from the sticks to downtown austin doesn’t get any shorter just because i’m well rested. so i started out about 15 minutes late, and still had to stop for gas.

bare in mind, as i tell the rest of this story, that i’m female, i’m virgo, i drive a mustang convertible and i have a lead foot anyways! and now, for added fun, i’m late.

as a general rule, i do my commute at around 80 miles an hour. when i pulled up to my last stoplight heading out of l-town this am, a kid pulled up behind me on some P.O.S. yamaha rice burner. i knew we were in for trouble when, sitting at the red light, he gunned his engine hard enough to make my rear window (top up) rattle, and my left eardrum explode.

light goes green. we take off.

he immediately shoots around the short bus to our right to pass me. no problem. we get out of town, i speed up. dramatically.

i’m not going to try to justify what happened next. it wasn’t my fault.
(and to quell the argument, please bear in mind that the right hand lane on 183 northbound is not slow, it’s just for the people doing 80 to get into when the people doing 95 come up behind them).

so i get up to about 90, and this kid is still in front of me. he looks behind to see me coming, and then guns the bike again. there’s smoke everywhere. the shriek of a hamster and a rubber band working far too hard. my right eardrum explodes. but he won’t get over. the man pushes the bike to the very outer corner of its limits, to the point that i’m concerned that the damned thing is going to either blow up or keel over, and the little mutherfucker won’t move! refuses to change lanes. you can almost see him, grinning to himself under the helmet thinking “hah! i’ll show her. i can outrun her!” (i still had one gear and about 7000 rpms to go before i was in ANY sort of danger).
i don’t even HAVE a dick. except for the random rental and/or temporary usage, i don’t WANT a dick. why did he feel the need to prove that his was bigger? like i care. as if it didn’t show, immediately, that he’s concerned about it (which, yes, we girls know, means that it’s pinkie sized and doesn’t work quite right). WHY WHY WHY?!

kathi said @ 05/09/2002 04:20 PM GMT

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