Posted by Instagrate to WordPress
November 2012
Houston.
So the husbear and I will be in Houston in two weeks. Anyone have any secret tourist suggestions for that neck of the woods?
Snob.
I’m a judgmental prick. I have the afternoon off from work today. I was going to enjoy a nice lunch at Panera, but when I saw the line nearly extending out the door I decided to skip the experience. So I am sitting at the neighboring Barnes & Noble cafe enjoying a prepackaged lunch that is way too high in the way of calories. I ended up throwing half of it away so that I could stay within my personal calorie budget.
I’m a judgmental prick because I have decided that I don’t like these chain eateries that people seem to gravitate towards in this area. There have been a smattering of locally owned coffee shops and cafes over the past couple of years but they haven’t been successful in staying in business. This is unfortunate, because I would rather support the local economy instead of feeding bucks into a corporate conglomerate. But when chains are all you have, you make do with what you’ve got.
I couldn’t bring myself to go into Panera because our local location has turned into a ghettoized version of what the corporate lords of Panera probably envision their stores to be. It’s fancy fast food, I’ll give you that, but at this particular location people are afraid to get anywhere close to one of the registers until someone screams at them. They have no idea what’s on the menu, they’re confused by the numbers to the right of the prices (calorie counts are listed) and quite frankly people freak out because they do not have fries on the menu. “Would you like an apple or chips?” “I want fries.” Please go yell into the clown’s mouth and get the hell away from me.
Here at this Barnes and Noble cafe there are several people here that are just ticking me off for no reason. This is where the judgmental prick in me comes out. There is a bullhorn of a woman with red hair and heavy makeup (though she looks nowhere as classy as Endora) talking about her Christmas tree and how she is putting it up this weekend. Yay for her. I’m guessing it’s aluminum and it has one bulb with a spinny colored thing shining festive hues on the shiny tree. Pretty. She’s going on and on about the holidays and how she has to go to Wal*mart to pick up the wine for dinner.
Again, judgmental prick kicks in. What kind of asshat buys their wine from Wal*mart (Always White Trash, Always)1 and quite frankly I didn’t think that grocery stores in New York State could even carry wine. Maybe Wal*mart gets a special dispensation because they’re Wal*mart and the Muggles in this area think they’re the closest thing they’re ever going to get to a second coming.
There is a man with one of the loud, tuberculous type coughs hacking away at the table next to me. He is hunched over a computer running Windows (I keep hearing the cutsey sound effects that Microsoft thinks are fun!). His elementary aged daughter (I’m guessing 5th grade) is trying to eat her lunch and read a book while he pecks at his keys. Why is he at Barnes and Noble hacking away in such an uproariously manner? Why is the girl not sitting in a classroom or perhaps even enjoying recess with her classmates? Why are they invading the space I have eeked out for myself in this chain operated bastion of hell and not keeping to themselves?
Yep, I’m a total prick.
The Wal*mart Wine crowd have all pulled out iPhones and are using their Facebook app. Isn’t that sweet. There’s a loud voice in my head screaming, “You don’t deserve iPhones! You don’t deserve Facebook! Go back to your Winnebago!!!”. At least I hope it’s my inner voice because otherwise it would be quite embarrassing.
Woman behind me is totally reading over my shoulder. Please excuse me for a moment while I bring up a photo for her to enjoy.
I’m back. She turned away when I brought up the photo of the naked man shaving. I’d share it on the blog but then y’all would blush. Besides, I’m not authorized to share it.
A guy just walked in and began a conversation with his girlfriend as he walked into the cafe area. She was seated, he was making his way to the table and began dropping f-bombs five tables away as he made his way to the seated girlfriend. I find this to be totally inappropriate. Why do people use such salty language these days? Now, I know that I can swear up a blue streak when suitably motivated, and I know that I occasionally curse in my blog, but I am not foisting such language on people that didn’t choose to listen or read it. It’s not like he has Tourette’s Syndrome or something like that. That’s just the way he talks, apparently. It sounds very uneducated to me. It’s bad enough that we had to listen to a table of grown men talk that way at dinner the other night, but must every nook and cranny in the world be filled with stupid people?
Yep, I’m a total snob.
I want to whack the guy that’s coughing with my laptop in an effort to put him out of his misery. That’s would probably be mean.
Perhaps I’ll convince the non-classy Endora to give him some Wal*mart Wine to soothe his throat.
1 I must confess that I went to Wal*mart yesterday because they were the only game in town that had what I was looking for. And I found that fact to be very, very, very disappointing.
60 Minutes.
I have been struggling with getting to the gym the last couple of days. As I write that sentence, I’m not sure that “struggling” is the right word to use but it’s the first word that comes to mind, so that’s what I’ll go with.
I think going to the gym and doing my thing on the elliptical machine alongside two dozen or so other people is running against my somewhat loner/introverted nature. On one hand, I like going to the gym because there is something to look at; there’s plenty of televisions thrust all over the place, there are people of all shapes and sizes and types milling about doing they’re thing. It surely beats working out in the basement and looking at nothing but cinder block walls, but there’s still something about going to the gym that feels invasive to me.
Perhaps I need a little bit of alone time one night this week.
One of the beautiful things about being a cyclist is that I get to see the world at a slower pace, under my own power, and under my own terms and from my own space. The last time I rode bike with another person was when I rode with our friend Thom in Virginia back in 2009. I liked riding with Thom, he’s a good guy, but for the most part there’s not a lot of people that I would want to ride with. My whole “space” kind of works that way. I like being alone and there’s very few people that I can feel comfortable being alone with. I know that doesn’t make sense if you think about it broadly, but that’s just the way my mind works.
Another one of the issues I have with working out at the gym is that there are reminders all over the place as to how much time has passed. There’s a clock hanging on every wall (which aren’t in sync and kind of makes me a little crazy) and the elliptical machines have a display showing how much time you’ve been doing your thing. The timer is in a location whereas it can’t be easily covered with a book or something. The other night I tried working out with my eyes closed but then I got into a song I was listening to and I was worried that I was swaying around like Stevie Wonder. I’m odd, but I don’t want to be perceived as strange.
It’s the first 10 minutes of working out at the gym that I dread. Once that timer that refuses to be obscured is in the double digits I start to feel a little better. Once I’m beyond the 30 minute mark I feel like I might be onto something. It’s not until the last three minutes of working out that I am actually enjoying myself. But the truth of the whole thing is, I really like how I feel after I work out. And that’s what keeps me motivated. It’s how I feel after 60 minutes of feeling overwhelmed, bored and frustrated all at once and I don’t think the elated feelings come from finishing the workout, I think it’s a boost in self-confidence fueled by the fact that I just got something done when I could have easily said no.
So I’ll keep doing this 60 minute workout routine thing until cycling season returns to The Empire State. I need skis for my bike.
The Unknown.
There is a fear running rampant through our merry little household. It is a fear that has gripped this tiny bit of existence for the past several years and quite frankly, something has to be done about it.
People are afraid to open the dishwasher.
Now, opening the dishwasher involves a little bit of a commitment. Not only does one have to put dishes into the dishwasher (that’s what they usually do when they open the dishwasher), but one also runs the very insane risk of finding out that the dishes that are currently in the dishwasher are clean.
The horror.
Because of the wild advances in appliance technology (nothing says “welcome to the 21st century” like having to reboot your dishwasher), there’s no escaping the fact that if you open the dishwasher when the dishes inside it are clean, you’re going to make the little “clean” indicator light go out and then the Magic Fairy that flies around the house is going to know that someone opened the dishwasher. Because you see, if the dishes in the dishwasher are clean and the “clean” indicator is off, then the Magic Fairy will know that someone was unwilling to commit the time needed to empty the dishwasher. It’s apparently the Magic Fairy’s job. Though the Magic Fairy will not say anything, audible sighs will probably be heard and their will be an air of guilt about the house until someone confesses to this act of neglect.
Since that “clean” indicator on the front of the dishwasher strikes terror in some occupants of this house, it has been decided (most likely through a secret vote) that it’s easier just to pile the dishes in the sink, on the television, under the couch, in the back bedroom or over the litter box. At no time will a dirty dish approach a dishwasher with the “clean” indicator illuminated, for the aforementioned time obligation involved with opening the dishwasher after it has been rebooted and done it’s thing.
Be very afraid.
Monday.
I am having a serious craving for Chipotle right now. I don’t know where the closest Chipotle is because I’m at work today and I’ve never Googled such a thing, but the fact of the matter is, I could really use some Chipotle. Complete with taco chips and a little bit of cheese. And maybe a beer. Ha, I typed bear before typing beer. I could use a bear too. He wears the same wedding ring I wear.
Where was I? Oh yes, Monday. Since selling the iPad and using my laptop full-time on the road, I have been struggling a little bit with the placement of the laptop while sitting in the Jeep. I am elated because I suddenly realized that I didn’t have to sit in the driver’s seat, I could sit in the passenger’s seat and have much more room on my lap. So that’s what I’ve done. It feels weird sitting in the passenger seat of my beloved Jeep, but the laptop can now comfortably sit on my lap and all is right with the world. It’s the little things that make a big difference.
The weather is gorgeous. It is currently 72F and fairly sunny here in the foothills of the Adirondacks. The day is flying by and people are canceling meetings left and right because it’s a holiday here in the United States. Our work never stops, though, so no holiday for us. I do thank the men and women that have served our country at time of war, though. I find their efforts to be inspiring. I wish that I was young enough to serve in some capacity because I would seriously consider that opportunity today.
The only frustrating part of today is the fact that because it’s so gorgeous outside, I really want to go for a bike ride. After my excellent ride yesterday, I’m feeling the need to enjoy some fresh air. I guess I’ll go for a walk instead.
