Humor

240 posts

The Mindless Brutes of Any Gym, USA

I would divide my body weight into three life sections:

Years 0 – 4: Typical skin and bones Indian girl
Years 4 – 18: Oh look, I found sugar. Sad owner of Lane Bryant catalogs.
Years 18 – present: Healthy alterations between very fit, fit, and “eh.”

For the past eight years, I have been an avid gym buff. My workouts are both thorough and well calculated, and I easily spend 10 hours a week, every week, burning the sugary calories I so happily consume. I am no stranger to cardio equipment, stretch mats, swimming pools, and yes, the weight room. Yet in my time at the five gyms to which I’ve belonged, I’ve found that as a woman, it takes a stoic attitude to command the respect from men that any patron (let alone a regular one) ought to automatically be given. In the gym, I have heard more than my fair share of sexist comments from men about women, despite the fact that mindless brutes of Any Gym, USA prove to be the most pathetic example of possible patrons.

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Whose Shtick Do You Hate?

You know when you’re just minding your own business watching some perfectly good nonsense on television, or listening to much the same on the radio and then some gimmick-laden, shtick-y shtickster appears out of nowhere and involuntarily you’re overcome by a massive eyeroll, coupled with an active gag reflex, mixed with an inner scream – the kind that can only be caused by a thousand fire ants moving up your thigh?

Yeah, these are the people responsible for my current jackass allergy.

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Neighbors Suburban and Not, and All that They Hath Wrought

Growing up in the suburban idylls of East Williston, life was pretty good.  Mom and Dad were mostly normal, there was an endless round of parties and trips to the beach and the local pool (Christopher Morely Park, for those North Shore-ites here at CT), the neighbors were neighborly, and Wheatley Hills, the golf club, wasn’t too fusty for young people.  (There was a sex toy in the caddy locker room closet.  I’ll never know why.)

 

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Mom Had Ooo-rah; How to Be a Real Woman

I won’t forget that spring weekday, and what happened in my 6th Grade classroom.  We were trapped inside because of the rain, and we were tearing mid-century modern room up in a way that might have made Mies van De Rohe horrified. Laughter echoed off the ceilings, and the pure joy of good kids playing ran down the halls.

I had a Whoopee Cushion, and made exuberant fart noises with it at every opportunity.  This was so not like me that my classmates were delighted and screamed with laughter.  It was so not like anyone else that our gym teacher hauled me out in the hall, slammed me up against a wall, and gave me a lecture about how “the football team” would pay for my misconduct.  What?  I wasn’t even on the football team.  His choking hand on my neck was simply stunning – no one had ever touched me that way before.  When I was disciplined at home I was simply told to leave the room.  No one had ever hit me.  My friend Andrea came out in the hall and warned the teacher – “If you hit him, you’re in Big Trouble.  And I don’t like you – never did.” Continue reading →

Toilets And Cake – Managing The Disagreeable Task

I’ve often quoted Miss Manners on the subject of friendship: “Your best friend is the person who convinces you that the unbearable is in fact bearable because it is also funny.”  This post is dedicated to the indomitable Will Ortiz, who has seen me through the roller coaster of life with howls of roaring laughter.

Accomplishing a difficult and disagreeable task means different things to different people.  Some procrastinate and  zip through it at the last minute.  Others drag ass through the whole thing, bitching all the way.  I prefer a more balanced approach.  I call it Toilets And Cake.

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The Lost Art of the Prank Call

Definitely not a job offer

I was awoken at 3:45am this morning by a prank call. It would usually be work calling and I should have answered it except that I’m not on call. Since I didn’t recognize the number calling it was probably some off shore developer that really thought his issue was urgent. I didn’t answer it thinking that if it was important they would call back. They did not.

I awoke this morning to the guilt of knowing I had let some poor Argentinian, Brazilian or Manilan person down. I checked my Google Voice for the transcription. I wasn’t expecting much since they probably left the message in poorly pronounced English. (that is still far superior to my Hindi) Indeed the transcript was useless. Continue reading →