So I’m back in the gym this week, after my lengthy diatribe about discipline last week. Admittedly, it’s Wednesday morning and I’ve only been once so far, but there’s a trip planned for this afternoon prior to heading up to Northbrook for Christmas Eve with the family. Work is slow enough that I don’t think I’ll be missed if I sneak out for a half hour on the elliptical. Of course, I say that and the hour I’ll be gone will be the hour things go to hell. Although considering the way things have gone lately, everyone should be used to it.
As you can guess, things at work are weirdly busy, but dull. December in years past has been a month of frenzied fifteen hour days at the office, busily trying to get expiring loans booked, or new loans put in place for companies who have a year end deadline. This year, not so much. We’re all about risk avoidance, and closely monitoring the loans we do have, and for some reason, none of them are expiring on December 31st. It’s made for a quiet month, but intense, as I’m trying to keep as close an eye on my companies as possible without seeming like I work there. Last night this stuff kept me at work until 7:30 or so. This was a bit later than I intended, and there was a break for dinner around 6pm that took twenty minutes. The good news, as it relates to working out, is that at the end of the work day I went straight over to the gym and worked out for about an hour. I lifted weights for the first time in ages, and it was great to be back on that side of the gym floor.
There are a couple reasons I enjoyed myself so much last night. The first was that at 7:30 the week of Christmas, there was no one there, or almost no one. It’s just much easier to get a workout done when there aren’t any other people using the machines you want to use. This seems obvious, I know, but there aren’t many times where there aren’t several people in the area, and I just prefer to be alone over there, taking care of business and getting out of there. I’ve got a few post-workday lifting routines for different sets of muscle groups, and if there’s no one there, I can get each one done in about a half hour, while breaking a pretty good sweat and feeling it the next day. Last night was chest and triceps, for those you curious few, and I took it as a good sign when I woke up this morning that I was already a little sore. Just means I did my job efficiently last night. I also spent twenty minutes on the elliptical after the lifting to keep my heart rate up at an aerobic pace. Supposedly, twenty minutes a day is enough to improve your cardiovascular activity, though I usually prefer thirty minutes.
The second reason it was a good trip is a bit less practical, and a bit more personal. The staff at the Equinox where I work out are generally pretty cool, though there are a few who go out of their way to be nice. I’m sure there’s a corporate policy in place mandating that every member be greeted and bid farewell, but one woman in particular has made it a point to know my name and ask how things are going. It’s a small gesture, but it makes it easier to show up there, knowing that at least one person seems genuinely interested in my welfare. Last night, if that wasn’t enough, I had a nice conversation with another of the staff who also happened to be pretty damn cute. More on that later in the week, though don’t get your hopes up, it’s going to be more of this interminable self-reflection on the conversation we had, rather than anything juicy, as my life is far too boring for anything like that to happen. Signing off for now. Cheers, kids, and Merry (or Happy) Christmas!
Blake
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Disciplinary Action
The last few weeks have been an interesting time in my life. Well, interesting for me at least. Not sure anyone else would be all that fascinated to hear the details of what’s been happening. But hey, this blog is all about reaching a very limited audience, right? That’s what I thought. So without any further ado, (adieu? http://beesbuzz.biz/blog/e/2005/11/12-get_your_idioms.php) let’s dive in to the weeks past in the life of one Blako Townsley, shall we?
For those of you curious few, no, I have not forgotten about this blog. That limited audience I mentioned about twenty words ago is small, but very vocal. I appreciate the encouragement, Tim. In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about this blog as a metaphor for the rest of my life. Started with good intentions, occasionally fulfills its purpose without making any real headway towards a larger goal or achievement, etc. Real cheery stuff, no? I’m mostly kidding about the lack of progress towards larger goals and achievements, it’s just that lately the notable milestones have been overshadowed by events of the not-so-distant past.
It’s no secret that I’ve struggled with my routine in getting to the gym. Most frequently, this has been blamed on the tribulations associated with attending grad school while holding down a full time job. The laundry list of obstacles included lack of a regular exercise time, exhaustion, homework, iPod breakdowns, etc. Whether or not these tribulations were a real challenge is debatable, since I seemed to get plenty of drinking, sleeping and goofing around done while I was working and learning. I’m nothing if not (semi-belatedly) self-aware of my shortcomings. I’ve got all sorts of problems keeping me from achieving my stated goal of losing weight. I’m a procrastinator. I’m compulsive. I’m impulsive. I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I lack foresight. I lack motivation. I lack the ability to self-motivate. You get the point.
And this is in light of the fact that I’ve been actually working out lately. Two or three times a week for the past three weeks. The reason for the reflection and negativity about my personal habits is rooted in work. This may or may not be a surprise to those of you out there, but work has not been so hot lately. About six weeks ago, I was placed on a performance improvement plan due to some problems I’d been having at work regarding the execution of my job responsibilities. The sad thing was, it wasn’t even a surprise. My manager, Mike, is a good guy who is one of those rare people who tells you he’s going to be honest with you, and then goes ahead and does it, regardless of how negative the message is. Mike had told me that in an effort to save my job, I was going to be put on this plan to prove to Mike’s boss that I was an employee worth retaining. This issue was in doubt due to some incidents earlier in the year where I was not diligent about collecting some legal fees from one of our clients. I put off asking because the timing wasn’t right, and I didn’t feel I was getting the support I needed from some members of my team, so I decided to let it go, figuring that someone else would take care of it. Turns out this wasn’t such a hot idea. We almost had to eat the fees, and only recovered them through special efforts of Mike, who did it to make me look better than I actually was.
Being put on the plan wasn’t something I took lightly. In fact, I’ve thought about little else for the past six weeks, as I’ve tried to maintain my job here as the economy crumbles around the world. I’ve gone through periods where I blamed my bosses for not properly motivating me, my team members for not helping out when it must have seemed clear that I couldn’t get the job done on my own, and, finally, myself for being such a reprehensible shitbag that I couldn’t stay on top of what is, at its essence, a ridiculously easy job. Hell, during the entire period, I knew it was my fault, I just didn’t want to accept the fact that I failed to live up to my responsiblities, since that is a terrible thing to have to admit. But fail I did. And no matter the reasons I came up with while trying to make myself feel better, I realized that the only reason any of this happened is that I lack a serious amount of discipline in my life. As I’m sure it is with most people, I prefer to be doing things that are interesting and challenging and fun. And when those elements are lacking, I tend to disengage and let my worst tendencies of procrastination and laziness dominate. And about the time this admission finally made its way to the forefront of my brain earlier this month, so too did the realization that this behavior spills over into my quest to get in shape and lose weight.
So, with this emotional baggage-laden digression, we get back to the purpose of this marathon posting: the working out. I mentioned earlier that I have been getting back to the gym about two or three times a week. That has been great, but like my job and other things in my life, I can do better. This blog is included in that, and yes, I realize that has been said before. But I am serious. School is over, work sucks, going to the gym and writing about it on a regular basis are both hard to do. I guess I’m making a pre New Years resolution to strive for more discipline in my life, to do all the things I say I will, and then follow through. I am trying to be a better persons, I promise, but as with all things in life, only time will tell. If encouragement is your thing, feel free to send some my way. If not, just the fact that you take the time to read this place for expression of my frustrations and exultations means a lot. Please stick with me, and we’ll see where this thing goes.
Cheers,
Blake
For those of you curious few, no, I have not forgotten about this blog. That limited audience I mentioned about twenty words ago is small, but very vocal. I appreciate the encouragement, Tim. In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about this blog as a metaphor for the rest of my life. Started with good intentions, occasionally fulfills its purpose without making any real headway towards a larger goal or achievement, etc. Real cheery stuff, no? I’m mostly kidding about the lack of progress towards larger goals and achievements, it’s just that lately the notable milestones have been overshadowed by events of the not-so-distant past.
It’s no secret that I’ve struggled with my routine in getting to the gym. Most frequently, this has been blamed on the tribulations associated with attending grad school while holding down a full time job. The laundry list of obstacles included lack of a regular exercise time, exhaustion, homework, iPod breakdowns, etc. Whether or not these tribulations were a real challenge is debatable, since I seemed to get plenty of drinking, sleeping and goofing around done while I was working and learning. I’m nothing if not (semi-belatedly) self-aware of my shortcomings. I’ve got all sorts of problems keeping me from achieving my stated goal of losing weight. I’m a procrastinator. I’m compulsive. I’m impulsive. I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I lack foresight. I lack motivation. I lack the ability to self-motivate. You get the point.
And this is in light of the fact that I’ve been actually working out lately. Two or three times a week for the past three weeks. The reason for the reflection and negativity about my personal habits is rooted in work. This may or may not be a surprise to those of you out there, but work has not been so hot lately. About six weeks ago, I was placed on a performance improvement plan due to some problems I’d been having at work regarding the execution of my job responsibilities. The sad thing was, it wasn’t even a surprise. My manager, Mike, is a good guy who is one of those rare people who tells you he’s going to be honest with you, and then goes ahead and does it, regardless of how negative the message is. Mike had told me that in an effort to save my job, I was going to be put on this plan to prove to Mike’s boss that I was an employee worth retaining. This issue was in doubt due to some incidents earlier in the year where I was not diligent about collecting some legal fees from one of our clients. I put off asking because the timing wasn’t right, and I didn’t feel I was getting the support I needed from some members of my team, so I decided to let it go, figuring that someone else would take care of it. Turns out this wasn’t such a hot idea. We almost had to eat the fees, and only recovered them through special efforts of Mike, who did it to make me look better than I actually was.
Being put on the plan wasn’t something I took lightly. In fact, I’ve thought about little else for the past six weeks, as I’ve tried to maintain my job here as the economy crumbles around the world. I’ve gone through periods where I blamed my bosses for not properly motivating me, my team members for not helping out when it must have seemed clear that I couldn’t get the job done on my own, and, finally, myself for being such a reprehensible shitbag that I couldn’t stay on top of what is, at its essence, a ridiculously easy job. Hell, during the entire period, I knew it was my fault, I just didn’t want to accept the fact that I failed to live up to my responsiblities, since that is a terrible thing to have to admit. But fail I did. And no matter the reasons I came up with while trying to make myself feel better, I realized that the only reason any of this happened is that I lack a serious amount of discipline in my life. As I’m sure it is with most people, I prefer to be doing things that are interesting and challenging and fun. And when those elements are lacking, I tend to disengage and let my worst tendencies of procrastination and laziness dominate. And about the time this admission finally made its way to the forefront of my brain earlier this month, so too did the realization that this behavior spills over into my quest to get in shape and lose weight.
So, with this emotional baggage-laden digression, we get back to the purpose of this marathon posting: the working out. I mentioned earlier that I have been getting back to the gym about two or three times a week. That has been great, but like my job and other things in my life, I can do better. This blog is included in that, and yes, I realize that has been said before. But I am serious. School is over, work sucks, going to the gym and writing about it on a regular basis are both hard to do. I guess I’m making a pre New Years resolution to strive for more discipline in my life, to do all the things I say I will, and then follow through. I am trying to be a better persons, I promise, but as with all things in life, only time will tell. If encouragement is your thing, feel free to send some my way. If not, just the fact that you take the time to read this place for expression of my frustrations and exultations means a lot. Please stick with me, and we’ll see where this thing goes.
Cheers,
Blake
Friday, September 19, 2008
The Blogger's Best Friend
OK, so I didn't manage to post two or three times this week, although today we did have a significant breakthrough. I figured out how to blog from work. And while this particular loophole may be closed sooner rather than later by our IT department, for now it's all systems go. While I've been settling into a routine at the gym (two trips this week, with plans for a third!) and been disciplined about going when I don't feel like it, and eating better, even I'm getting a bit sick of hearing about what I've been doing for exercise, and what I've been eating. So today, my friends, we're going to use the oldest trick in the book, the blogger's best friend, the age-old crutch of people with nothing to say, and pressure to be funny: the top ten list. Having written this already, I can tell you that it’s a doozy. Hey, it's Friday, and I'm feeling lazy. Times are tough. So with no further ado, here it is, the top ten most annoying people at the gym, with commentary.
10. The Mirror Flexer - I'm sure you all know this guy, even if you don't spend any time at the gym. This is usually some muscle-bound douchebag whose monogamy in life extends to loving one person, himself. Don't get me wrong, there are a limited number of ladies who fall into this category, but membership in this club is almost exclusively men, hollow excuses for men who exist only to self-validate. This usually comes in the form of lots of hair gelled, wifebeater-clad longing gazes into the mirror while flexing. More annoying than the congratulatory, onanistic, extremely public muscle-porn is the fact that these guys are taking up space on the machines that those of us with lives outside of ourselves are trying to use in a timely manner. Please get out of the way, sir, and desist with the questions about whether or not your delts are as totally effin’ ripped as they could be. I care not.
9. The Makeup Wearer – It occurs to me that the female relative of the Mirror Flexer is number nine on the list, the Makeup Wearer. While the mirror flexing isn’t in evidence for these ladies, they are bound by the same genetic desire to be admired for how good they look. You can always spot them by whether or not the makeup is still on, and the size of the weights they are lifting. You see, the primary goal isn’t to break a sweat, it’s for you to see that they are in such good shape that they don’t need to break a sweat, hence the barbell curls with weights that start with a decimal point and look like a wee tiny roll of Smarties. I know you’re not really just toning your arms, because you haven’t done one thousand curls yet. I’d be willing to bet a portion of my life savings that these creatures show up in the evenings after having spent two or three sweaty hours on the elliptical before either you or I have arisen for the day.
8. Ironic Mustache Guy – This is not a widespread problem that I am aware of, as the only gym in which I’ve ever encountered this specimen is my current, snobby one in the downtown Chicago Loop area. There’s this one jackass who doesn’t cause me any problems with access to equipment, he just annoys the living shit out of me with his pencil-thin, handlebar disaster. I will admit that this is, at the least, slightly hypocritical of me, as no one favors facial hair more than I do. And while I can’t bring myself to pull off the mustachio full-time, I have considered it on more than one occasion, probably not without some sense of irony. It’s just that every time he walks by, he makes sure you know he’s got a mustache. Ken Marbury would be ashamed of you, sirrah. Wear that ‘stache with some dignity, not as a showpiece.
7. The Preggo – I know what you’re thinking. “Pregnant women have the right to work out too! How can you be so clearly sexist?!” Don’t get me wrong, the problem here isn’t that someone has exercised their reproductive rights, and is now exercising to stay healthy. That’s great. My biggest problem here is that the future mothers tend to favor the elliptical cardio machines, same as me. And during the evening, there are usually only a few available, right next to each other. And, well, I’m not quite sure how to put this, but…pregnant ladies on a relatively bouncy machine tend towards the flatulence. A lot. I realize that the baby is putting a lot of pressure on the digestive tract as a whole, and this is no one’s fault, but I seem to be the only one who realizes this, because I’ve been getting a lot of dirty looks when other people walk by, and the Preggos affect this innocent look that leads no one to suspect them. The next logical suspect? That’s right, the guy on the machine right next to her. It’s not me!
6. The Ogler – What can I say ladies? I’m sorry. It’s not annoying to me obviously, but men are hardwired to check out the ladies when they walk by, even if they’re not wearing yoga booty shorts and a tight sorority t-shirt. I guess I do feel a bit guilty, because I’m doing my best not to be a total perv, but 45 minutes on the machine gets a bit boring. And also, not gonna lie, all you fine-looking ladies out there are great motivation to get to the gym. Sorry, I’m disgusting, I know. I’ll try to pretend to watch MSNBC next time you walk by.
5. The Guy in Charge of TV Channels – This brings me to our first employee award. I don’t know who is responsible for the content distribution amongst the twelve tvs in the cardio area, but do you think it’s possible we can put more than one tv on ESPN? I realize the gym is in the heart of one of the financial centers of the world, but you will never convince me that everyone needs to be watching Lou Dobbs, Chris Matthews, and a thousand other crappy “news” shows that are on after the markets close. Doesn’t anybody else out there want to watch some baseball, or some football, or hell some situational comedy? I’d even settle for E! but apparently that’s impossible. You practically have to sell a kidney to get some baseball shown in the joint. Bugs the crap out of me, Mr Crotchety McDifficult.
4. The Judgmental Trainer – Continuing our theme of employees who bug me, The Judgmental Trainer ladies and gentlemen! This is the trainer who always seems to be around whenever you are lifting, mostly silent and shaking his/her head, but occasionally going so far as to suggest that you are doing more harm than good with your workout routine/sequence. I realize your sole purpose in life is to sell your services to someone like me who is pretty clearly in need of some exercise guidance, but your prices are astronomical. Yes, you are the Michelangelo of gluts, lats, quads and calves, and I, merely an apprentice. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to pay you $75 an hour to stand there and tell me how to use the machines for which I’m perfectly capable of reading the instructions. At least not until this apprentice gets the majority of the marble chipped away. Until then, get bent.
3. The Visitors – Part of the necessary evil at the gym is the business side of it. This entails certain annoying things to happen, like people who are considering joining the gym. They walk through, inspecting the machines and those using them like exhibits at the zoo, pretending to know the difference between yoga styles and personal training accreditation levels, all the while just trying to decide if it’s close enough to work and the train to justify the expense. You can see their little furrowed brows scrunch up as the membership representative tells them about all the amenities, while forgetting to mention that they are going to cram as many people into the locker room as they possibly can without inciting open revolt amongst the users of said locker rooms.
2. Remember This T-Shirt – One of the services the gym provides for the apparently uberwealthy is a laundry service for people who can’t be bothered to lug thirty ounces of gym clothes to and from work on a daily basis. They give you your own locker, and laundry bag, and every night someone comes and takes your laundry bag and washes it, providing you with clean smelling clothes and relieving you of a terrible, onerous burden. Bully for you. You’re apparently swimming in money you have no idea what to do with. Your mother must be so proud. What wouldn’t make your mother proud is the fact that you are so lazy that you can’t be bothered to change these clothes out…ever. There’s one guy at the gym who’s been wearing the same Youkilis Red Sox t-shirt since he joined. ONE YEAR AGO! No one loves the Red Sox that much. Even Kevin Youkilis changes into something else when he leaves work. Why can’t you?
1. Locker Room Nudist – This brings us to our final candidate of the top ten list. The Locker Room Nudist. While this subject seems like a banal recycled joke from Jay Mohr’s show about the Next Great Comedian, its truth rings out from here to the horizon. Locker Room Nudity is not cool. Oh, I don’t mean that you should be wearing Tobias Funkё-style cutoff jorts everywhere, but you certainly don’t have to have entire conversations with your fellow investment wankers while displaying the twig and berries. I don’t care how comfortable you are with other men seeing your genitalia, none of the rest of us are, whether we’ll admit it or not. Guys get shy about standing next to each other at the urinals, but somehow in the locker room, it’s ok to stand there with one leg on a bench, balls flapping in the wind, while smooth jazz plays on the overhead speakers. That’s not comfort in your own skin, it’s the start of a gay porn film. Put those things away. Thank you.
10. The Mirror Flexer - I'm sure you all know this guy, even if you don't spend any time at the gym. This is usually some muscle-bound douchebag whose monogamy in life extends to loving one person, himself. Don't get me wrong, there are a limited number of ladies who fall into this category, but membership in this club is almost exclusively men, hollow excuses for men who exist only to self-validate. This usually comes in the form of lots of hair gelled, wifebeater-clad longing gazes into the mirror while flexing. More annoying than the congratulatory, onanistic, extremely public muscle-porn is the fact that these guys are taking up space on the machines that those of us with lives outside of ourselves are trying to use in a timely manner. Please get out of the way, sir, and desist with the questions about whether or not your delts are as totally effin’ ripped as they could be. I care not.
9. The Makeup Wearer – It occurs to me that the female relative of the Mirror Flexer is number nine on the list, the Makeup Wearer. While the mirror flexing isn’t in evidence for these ladies, they are bound by the same genetic desire to be admired for how good they look. You can always spot them by whether or not the makeup is still on, and the size of the weights they are lifting. You see, the primary goal isn’t to break a sweat, it’s for you to see that they are in such good shape that they don’t need to break a sweat, hence the barbell curls with weights that start with a decimal point and look like a wee tiny roll of Smarties. I know you’re not really just toning your arms, because you haven’t done one thousand curls yet. I’d be willing to bet a portion of my life savings that these creatures show up in the evenings after having spent two or three sweaty hours on the elliptical before either you or I have arisen for the day.
8. Ironic Mustache Guy – This is not a widespread problem that I am aware of, as the only gym in which I’ve ever encountered this specimen is my current, snobby one in the downtown Chicago Loop area. There’s this one jackass who doesn’t cause me any problems with access to equipment, he just annoys the living shit out of me with his pencil-thin, handlebar disaster. I will admit that this is, at the least, slightly hypocritical of me, as no one favors facial hair more than I do. And while I can’t bring myself to pull off the mustachio full-time, I have considered it on more than one occasion, probably not without some sense of irony. It’s just that every time he walks by, he makes sure you know he’s got a mustache. Ken Marbury would be ashamed of you, sirrah. Wear that ‘stache with some dignity, not as a showpiece.
7. The Preggo – I know what you’re thinking. “Pregnant women have the right to work out too! How can you be so clearly sexist?!” Don’t get me wrong, the problem here isn’t that someone has exercised their reproductive rights, and is now exercising to stay healthy. That’s great. My biggest problem here is that the future mothers tend to favor the elliptical cardio machines, same as me. And during the evening, there are usually only a few available, right next to each other. And, well, I’m not quite sure how to put this, but…pregnant ladies on a relatively bouncy machine tend towards the flatulence. A lot. I realize that the baby is putting a lot of pressure on the digestive tract as a whole, and this is no one’s fault, but I seem to be the only one who realizes this, because I’ve been getting a lot of dirty looks when other people walk by, and the Preggos affect this innocent look that leads no one to suspect them. The next logical suspect? That’s right, the guy on the machine right next to her. It’s not me!
6. The Ogler – What can I say ladies? I’m sorry. It’s not annoying to me obviously, but men are hardwired to check out the ladies when they walk by, even if they’re not wearing yoga booty shorts and a tight sorority t-shirt. I guess I do feel a bit guilty, because I’m doing my best not to be a total perv, but 45 minutes on the machine gets a bit boring. And also, not gonna lie, all you fine-looking ladies out there are great motivation to get to the gym. Sorry, I’m disgusting, I know. I’ll try to pretend to watch MSNBC next time you walk by.
5. The Guy in Charge of TV Channels – This brings me to our first employee award. I don’t know who is responsible for the content distribution amongst the twelve tvs in the cardio area, but do you think it’s possible we can put more than one tv on ESPN? I realize the gym is in the heart of one of the financial centers of the world, but you will never convince me that everyone needs to be watching Lou Dobbs, Chris Matthews, and a thousand other crappy “news” shows that are on after the markets close. Doesn’t anybody else out there want to watch some baseball, or some football, or hell some situational comedy? I’d even settle for E! but apparently that’s impossible. You practically have to sell a kidney to get some baseball shown in the joint. Bugs the crap out of me, Mr Crotchety McDifficult.
4. The Judgmental Trainer – Continuing our theme of employees who bug me, The Judgmental Trainer ladies and gentlemen! This is the trainer who always seems to be around whenever you are lifting, mostly silent and shaking his/her head, but occasionally going so far as to suggest that you are doing more harm than good with your workout routine/sequence. I realize your sole purpose in life is to sell your services to someone like me who is pretty clearly in need of some exercise guidance, but your prices are astronomical. Yes, you are the Michelangelo of gluts, lats, quads and calves, and I, merely an apprentice. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to pay you $75 an hour to stand there and tell me how to use the machines for which I’m perfectly capable of reading the instructions. At least not until this apprentice gets the majority of the marble chipped away. Until then, get bent.
3. The Visitors – Part of the necessary evil at the gym is the business side of it. This entails certain annoying things to happen, like people who are considering joining the gym. They walk through, inspecting the machines and those using them like exhibits at the zoo, pretending to know the difference between yoga styles and personal training accreditation levels, all the while just trying to decide if it’s close enough to work and the train to justify the expense. You can see their little furrowed brows scrunch up as the membership representative tells them about all the amenities, while forgetting to mention that they are going to cram as many people into the locker room as they possibly can without inciting open revolt amongst the users of said locker rooms.
2. Remember This T-Shirt – One of the services the gym provides for the apparently uberwealthy is a laundry service for people who can’t be bothered to lug thirty ounces of gym clothes to and from work on a daily basis. They give you your own locker, and laundry bag, and every night someone comes and takes your laundry bag and washes it, providing you with clean smelling clothes and relieving you of a terrible, onerous burden. Bully for you. You’re apparently swimming in money you have no idea what to do with. Your mother must be so proud. What wouldn’t make your mother proud is the fact that you are so lazy that you can’t be bothered to change these clothes out…ever. There’s one guy at the gym who’s been wearing the same Youkilis Red Sox t-shirt since he joined. ONE YEAR AGO! No one loves the Red Sox that much. Even Kevin Youkilis changes into something else when he leaves work. Why can’t you?
1. Locker Room Nudist – This brings us to our final candidate of the top ten list. The Locker Room Nudist. While this subject seems like a banal recycled joke from Jay Mohr’s show about the Next Great Comedian, its truth rings out from here to the horizon. Locker Room Nudity is not cool. Oh, I don’t mean that you should be wearing Tobias Funkё-style cutoff jorts everywhere, but you certainly don’t have to have entire conversations with your fellow investment wankers while displaying the twig and berries. I don’t care how comfortable you are with other men seeing your genitalia, none of the rest of us are, whether we’ll admit it or not. Guys get shy about standing next to each other at the urinals, but somehow in the locker room, it’s ok to stand there with one leg on a bench, balls flapping in the wind, while smooth jazz plays on the overhead speakers. That’s not comfort in your own skin, it’s the start of a gay porn film. Put those things away. Thank you.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Twice?!? In a row?!?
Today, my friends, I am here to write to you about something that hasn't happened in quite some time. That's right, I'm posting on consecutive days. And not only that, but I'm writing to you claiming victory of another sort. I have worked out two days in a row. Cue the trumpets and dancing girls!!! Tonight, I was stuck at work until about 6:30, and had already eaten dinner around 4:45, anticipating the later exit from work and eventual workout. As I was preparing to leave, I got a phone call from an old friend that I recently reconnected with. She had tickets to some critically acclaimed movie playing at the Metro, and asked if I would like to go. I considered it pretty seriously, as I was kinda tired from a relatively long day at work, and going to the gym sounded like a pretty lame option that late in the day. However, I persevered, declined the hangout, and went to the gym anyway. I proceeded to lift weights and hit the elliptical machine for 25 minutes afterwards. Needless to say, this is an unusual series of events for me lately. Usually the urge to skip the gym and do something a bit more fun, and a bit less tiring, wins nine times out of ten. Please allow me to toot my own horn for just a minute longer until I tell you the other factor in this story.
58...
59...
60.
OK, so some of the truth was left out above, which was that I would have had to go home and change into a new pair of pants before hitting the movie. I had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction today, one totally unnoticed by me until a mother of four pointed it out as I turned to leave her career station. That's right, unbeknownst to me, I had ripped a six inch hole in my brand new pants, right on the left butt cheek. I'd been walking around for God knows how long, but probably two or three hours, flashing my boxers at the whole world. I guess it's a good thing the IOC wasn't in town, or it would have been goodbye Olympics, hello worldwide embarrassment. Anyway, I spent the afternoon at work in my exercise clothes, which is a good look I must say. At least I got out of answering the doorbell when it rang both times. So that's the whole story right there, bailed on a movie to go to the gym because I was already wearing the outfit. Of course, I'm still gonna put this on the resume because of the complete workout, as well as foregoing the option of just going straight home, which did cross my mind. Hopefully this means that I'm in the right state of mind to get this thing accomplished once and for all. Gonna try and post tomorrow, although I may or may not be having dinner with the Barretts, who are back in town. Either way, I'll be hollering at y'all real soon.
Cheers,
Blake
p.s. Almost forgot to mention this, but somehow I ended up losing three pounds while I was in Canada, which was nice and motivating. The weekly weigh in stands at +96 lbs. More to come later.
58...
59...
60.
OK, so some of the truth was left out above, which was that I would have had to go home and change into a new pair of pants before hitting the movie. I had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction today, one totally unnoticed by me until a mother of four pointed it out as I turned to leave her career station. That's right, unbeknownst to me, I had ripped a six inch hole in my brand new pants, right on the left butt cheek. I'd been walking around for God knows how long, but probably two or three hours, flashing my boxers at the whole world. I guess it's a good thing the IOC wasn't in town, or it would have been goodbye Olympics, hello worldwide embarrassment. Anyway, I spent the afternoon at work in my exercise clothes, which is a good look I must say. At least I got out of answering the doorbell when it rang both times. So that's the whole story right there, bailed on a movie to go to the gym because I was already wearing the outfit. Of course, I'm still gonna put this on the resume because of the complete workout, as well as foregoing the option of just going straight home, which did cross my mind. Hopefully this means that I'm in the right state of mind to get this thing accomplished once and for all. Gonna try and post tomorrow, although I may or may not be having dinner with the Barretts, who are back in town. Either way, I'll be hollering at y'all real soon.
Cheers,
Blake
p.s. Almost forgot to mention this, but somehow I ended up losing three pounds while I was in Canada, which was nice and motivating. The weekly weigh in stands at +96 lbs. More to come later.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
I'm still here
Howdy to the four of you who are trying to regularly read this particular chronicle. That's "trying to regularly read this..." because I've been a bit incommunicado lately. Took two trips to Canada in the past two weeks, which were a much needed break from work, even though opportunities to hit the gym were few and far between. Rest assured that items like the following were enough to keep the weight loss at the forefront of my mind. Behold.
And another...
That, my friends, is a spectacular fuel tank for a sex machine. Of course, that's at least a dollar I owe to the creators of a really stupid t-shirt, who were trying to find a lame ass euphemism for a beer gut. And also of course, I'm holding a beer in the last picture, sort of a theme for the Labour Day weekend. (Yeah, that's right, I threw the extra "u" in there because we were in Canada. Deal with it.) Offsetting the debauchery of Dollar Bill's bachelor party was the following week of family-related activities/enforced detox. Spent the week eating healthy (assuming bacon for breakfast counts as healthy), sleeping a lot, and hydrating with actual water. It was a revelation. OK, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it did feel pretty damn good. I got back to Chicago yesterday evening, slept like a rock, and got up ready to work and work out. Which sequence of events actually did ensue. Worked out and came home to a dinner of grilled chicken, spinach, pecans, apple and blue cheese. And two diet sodas, damn caffeine addiction. Sooooooooooo yeah, exciting stuff here at the old Casa de Townsley. Aren't you guys glad I'm posting again? That's what I thought. Anyway, school starts back up in two weeks, so we're going to try and keep the momentum coming out of vacation going. Look for scintillating updates on weight training circuits, cardio routines, and the trials and tribulations of navigating the Gap/Old Navy/Banana Republic online ordering system. Stay tuned, y'all.
That, my friends, is a spectacular fuel tank for a sex machine. Of course, that's at least a dollar I owe to the creators of a really stupid t-shirt, who were trying to find a lame ass euphemism for a beer gut. And also of course, I'm holding a beer in the last picture, sort of a theme for the Labour Day weekend. (Yeah, that's right, I threw the extra "u" in there because we were in Canada. Deal with it.) Offsetting the debauchery of Dollar Bill's bachelor party was the following week of family-related activities/enforced detox. Spent the week eating healthy (assuming bacon for breakfast counts as healthy), sleeping a lot, and hydrating with actual water. It was a revelation. OK, maybe that's an exaggeration, but it did feel pretty damn good. I got back to Chicago yesterday evening, slept like a rock, and got up ready to work and work out. Which sequence of events actually did ensue. Worked out and came home to a dinner of grilled chicken, spinach, pecans, apple and blue cheese. And two diet sodas, damn caffeine addiction. Sooooooooooo yeah, exciting stuff here at the old Casa de Townsley. Aren't you guys glad I'm posting again? That's what I thought. Anyway, school starts back up in two weeks, so we're going to try and keep the momentum coming out of vacation going. Look for scintillating updates on weight training circuits, cardio routines, and the trials and tribulations of navigating the Gap/Old Navy/Banana Republic online ordering system. Stay tuned, y'all.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Fits and starts
So I logged on tonight for the first time in a while, only to realize that the last post on here was over two weeks ago. Time really flies when you are enjoying the summer and dodging the odd tornado in Chicago. I guess there's not much to say but mea culpa. I've been having a hard time lately motivating for everything on a list that includes writing, working, studying, home improvement, home maintenance, basic home picking up, laundry, buying wedding gifts and maybe, just maybe, working out on a regular schedule. I think part of the delay in writing about this has been guilt over my choices in the past two weeks. I've been to the gym a couple of different times but not on a schedule that resembles a serious commitment to working out. I don't think you could even say it does a drunken impression of commitment to working out that none of its friends think is funny, like Jessica Simpson's country music "career." And as well all know, more guilt = less writing. That's why no one's heard from Ernest Hemingway in decades. What's that you say? Ernie's been gone to the Great Bullfight in the Sky for all this time? Who knew?
All of which is a roundabout way of saying that I'm disappointed in myself. I've been partially committed and half-assed quite a few things lately, and it's showing up in my school and work product. I guess one of the bright spots of my commitment ability lately is the food diary, which I've been keeping diligently. I've had to guess a few times on the value of certain meals, but I'm being honest with myself about the quality of certain meals. It's even developed a few different columns and has grown as I've had ideas for it, including workout and alcohol consumption columns so I can see all aspects of behavior affecting this little project. I know what you're thinking, "Blake! That is so exciting! Nothing like keeping a spreadsheet about your weight loss project to make the ladies all hot and bothered." What can I say? I know. Line forms to the left, ladies. No pulling hair, and no eye gouging. You'll all get a turn. But first, we have to get one thing out of the way before we sign off from this brief and unfunny update on my ineffable laziness. That's right, it's the long promised Weekly Weigh-In. No comments about the bi-weekly nature of the Weigh-In. I'm working on it. So without further adieu, the first benchmark on my way to dropping a hundred pounds. I'm sure there will be clever ways to put it as they strike my fancy, but for today, just the number. I'm watching it as closely as you guys are, believe me. Take care, and we'll be chatting soon.
The Weekly Weigh-In for August 4th, 2008: +99.4 lbs.
All of which is a roundabout way of saying that I'm disappointed in myself. I've been partially committed and half-assed quite a few things lately, and it's showing up in my school and work product. I guess one of the bright spots of my commitment ability lately is the food diary, which I've been keeping diligently. I've had to guess a few times on the value of certain meals, but I'm being honest with myself about the quality of certain meals. It's even developed a few different columns and has grown as I've had ideas for it, including workout and alcohol consumption columns so I can see all aspects of behavior affecting this little project. I know what you're thinking, "Blake! That is so exciting! Nothing like keeping a spreadsheet about your weight loss project to make the ladies all hot and bothered." What can I say? I know. Line forms to the left, ladies. No pulling hair, and no eye gouging. You'll all get a turn. But first, we have to get one thing out of the way before we sign off from this brief and unfunny update on my ineffable laziness. That's right, it's the long promised Weekly Weigh-In. No comments about the bi-weekly nature of the Weigh-In. I'm working on it. So without further adieu, the first benchmark on my way to dropping a hundred pounds. I'm sure there will be clever ways to put it as they strike my fancy, but for today, just the number. I'm watching it as closely as you guys are, believe me. Take care, and we'll be chatting soon.
The Weekly Weigh-In for August 4th, 2008: +99.4 lbs.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
My iPod was dead, long live my iPod
Good news this week around NOTM,Y, as my iPod returned to the land of the living. The good folks at Best Buy returned it in a hair under three weeks after submission for repairs, and all is right with the world. Flight of the Conchords, The Black Crowes, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, System of a Down, and the sultry sounds of "Run, Blake, Run" are back at my fingertips. Luckily for me, this means that convincing myself to get on the elliptical during the work day is no longer a chore, but a chance to rock out for thirty minutes, gone from the seemingly endless hours at my cubicle. We're a bit behind budgeted pace just over the halfway point in the year, and the powers that be are extremely concerned about the almighty bucks. This resulted in a mandate that I be in my career station and ready to work no later than 8am, which sucks for a night owl like myself. Most of my best work is done at night, or at least that's what I tell myself when I'm blogging before bed. Combined with a brutal graduate school schedule the past four weeks, this has led to some really long days. The bad news from this development? I'm pretty flippin' tired all day long, and would rather do about a thousand things than drag my butt over to the gym, work out, shower, and return to the office. The good news? About the only thing that sounds less appealing than that gym trip is staying in the office and doing some more work. So I've been exercising as catch can, which boils down to some prophylactic work on the elliptical instead of the hard core ninety minute workouts that seem to lead to serious weight loss. I guess I will take what I can get until school drops down to one night a week in ten days. That's my target date for a more regular gym schedule. I've got a nine week window where my only evening obligations, other than perhaps the occasional dinner out with friends, are Wednesday night lectures for Marketing Research Methods. Break out the party hats and the weightlifting belts! Woo hoo! I'll be sure to supply the tunes for this particular party.
In the meantime, thanks have to go out to Alex for passing along an article on an effective tip for weight loss from a recent study, the food diary. It sounded like a foodie's obsessive record of his favorite chefs and meals when I first read the title, but instead was a different, compelling reason to write down everything you eat. By keeping track of your calories, you can more easily monitor your intake and recognize bad habits when they start to occur. Not sure if I'm going to work this into the blog or not, but the idea is being utilized behind the scenes at NOTM,Y and hopefully will lead to some results in the near future. Thanks for the support, Alex. Keep 'em coming. Back soon with a new feature here on Not On the Moon, Yet. The Weekly Weigh-In! *dramatic descending piano chords* Get ready for the weekly-ish post that will be a core feature of this here blog, where the shit hits the road, the rubber meets the fan, and any other mixed metaphors you can think of that sound like they mean serious business. I'll be holding myself accountable for the good, the bad, and the ugly of the past week in my quest to lose one pound for every year of Cubs futility over the past century. Stay tuned, campers...
Uncle Blake
In the meantime, thanks have to go out to Alex for passing along an article on an effective tip for weight loss from a recent study, the food diary. It sounded like a foodie's obsessive record of his favorite chefs and meals when I first read the title, but instead was a different, compelling reason to write down everything you eat. By keeping track of your calories, you can more easily monitor your intake and recognize bad habits when they start to occur. Not sure if I'm going to work this into the blog or not, but the idea is being utilized behind the scenes at NOTM,Y and hopefully will lead to some results in the near future. Thanks for the support, Alex. Keep 'em coming. Back soon with a new feature here on Not On the Moon, Yet. The Weekly Weigh-In! *dramatic descending piano chords* Get ready for the weekly-ish post that will be a core feature of this here blog, where the shit hits the road, the rubber meets the fan, and any other mixed metaphors you can think of that sound like they mean serious business. I'll be holding myself accountable for the good, the bad, and the ugly of the past week in my quest to lose one pound for every year of Cubs futility over the past century. Stay tuned, campers...
Uncle Blake
Sunday, July 6, 2008
The challenge begins
Hey y'all. Hope you had a good holiday weekend, especially those of our ex-pat readers who celebrated overseas with Dolly Parton. I spent a few extra hours sitting on the barstool that didn't need to happen, but saw some friends, had some good conversations, and went for a series of walks on Saturday that made me feel a little less guilty about all of Thursday night's excesses. Ended up walking down to a friend's house, then walked around Southport and Addison for a bit. Great excuse to skip the gym this weekend apparently.
Seems like there is always a good excuse that prevents me from getting to the gym on the weekends. "Went out drinking the night before. Got too much homework to do. Weather's too nice to do anything but sit by the pool and drink beers. VH1 is having a Rock of Love marathon and I haven't seen enough drunken strippers with severe emotional retardation this week." I can actually deal with most of that as acceptable collateral damage in this particular quest. Well, maybe not the Rock of Love marathon. What is up with that show and America's strange fascination with watching a train wreck? I digress. My bigger problem is the midweek excuses for skipping the gym. My intentions for most every week start with at least three trips to the gym. As of now, I'm still going to school part time, which is two nights a week. I always tell myself that I'm going to get up early on school days and get the exercising out of the way prior to work, then make it after work for lifting and cardio on at least one or two other days, leaving Friday, Saturday and Sunday free for some serious personal time. Somehow it never really works out. Especially when things like tonight happen. Got offered some Cubs tickets for the game, and hadn't been in a month or more. Decided that I was going to go to the game, and hit the gym at lunch. Only problem was, as usual, work got pretty busy, and the gym trip got cancelled. Whoops. Witness a busted workout plan for the week, kids. It ain't for the faint of heart.
Now pretty obviously, this is a simple matter of prioritization during my week. Not rocket science, right? No Cubs games before working out. No drinks with coworkers before working out. No deciding I'm tired and going home before working out. Making the workout a priority is now the new priority. Just a matter of deciding that this is the time once and for all when things are going to change, and I'm going to take some time for myself rather than trying to get things done for every other person who asks for something of me. Very mature, right?
By the way, Cubs win tonight. We're on our way to the World Series....
Seems like there is always a good excuse that prevents me from getting to the gym on the weekends. "Went out drinking the night before. Got too much homework to do. Weather's too nice to do anything but sit by the pool and drink beers. VH1 is having a Rock of Love marathon and I haven't seen enough drunken strippers with severe emotional retardation this week." I can actually deal with most of that as acceptable collateral damage in this particular quest. Well, maybe not the Rock of Love marathon. What is up with that show and America's strange fascination with watching a train wreck? I digress. My bigger problem is the midweek excuses for skipping the gym. My intentions for most every week start with at least three trips to the gym. As of now, I'm still going to school part time, which is two nights a week. I always tell myself that I'm going to get up early on school days and get the exercising out of the way prior to work, then make it after work for lifting and cardio on at least one or two other days, leaving Friday, Saturday and Sunday free for some serious personal time. Somehow it never really works out. Especially when things like tonight happen. Got offered some Cubs tickets for the game, and hadn't been in a month or more. Decided that I was going to go to the game, and hit the gym at lunch. Only problem was, as usual, work got pretty busy, and the gym trip got cancelled. Whoops. Witness a busted workout plan for the week, kids. It ain't for the faint of heart.
Now pretty obviously, this is a simple matter of prioritization during my week. Not rocket science, right? No Cubs games before working out. No drinks with coworkers before working out. No deciding I'm tired and going home before working out. Making the workout a priority is now the new priority. Just a matter of deciding that this is the time once and for all when things are going to change, and I'm going to take some time for myself rather than trying to get things done for every other person who asks for something of me. Very mature, right?
By the way, Cubs win tonight. We're on our way to the World Series....
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Raison d'etre
So we're gonna get things kicked off here at Not On The Moon, Yet after a false start a couple of weeks ago. It's amazing how poorly things go when you start a new endeavor after a happy hour on Friday. I've been working my way towards this particular corner of the internet after a lot of reflection in 2008. Turning 30 will do that to a person. You see, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my future this year. My twenties are over, and life has inexorably changed despite the most fervent wishes of my younger self that nothing ever change. Friends have gotten older, most of them are married or on their way to it, my job has become something more than the time I spend in between drinking sessions, and school has gotten to be the main focus of my evenings. In short, I'm growing up. And while the younger me was outwardly full of piss and vinegar, having a good time and not shy about letting everyone know, the older me has come to realize that not everything is an excuse to party and let go. The older me knows that hard work is frequently necessary to achieve something, but that it feels pretty damn good when you do so. And in the spirit of that hard work, I'm bringing you this little confessional.
I'm sure all you Simpsons fans out there already picked up on this, but the URL of this thing of mine is the first clue what this is all about. It's a pretty obscure reference to an episode of the Simpsons in which Troy McClure's latest educational video is about the gravitational difference between the earth and the moon. After revealing that the moon's gravity causes a person to weigh one-sixth of what they do on earth, a rather chubby young man reaches for some sort of sweet, at which point Troy intervenes and tells him, "you're not on the moon yet, tubby." One of the consequences of all that partying and letting go in my twenties is that I've put on a rather significant amount of weight, and as I've grown up, and denial can no longer allow me to ignore the labels on my pants and the sudden narrowing of the CTA seats here in the Windy City, I've realized that it's time for this weight to come off. Part of it is for health concerns, part of it is for aesthetic appeal to the ladies, part of it is that I really hate wind resistance, but no matter the full list of reasons for it, I'm going to use this forum as a tool to record my progress, motivate myself, discuss the challenges of losing weight and being overweight, entertain any readers who find this site, and hopefully get some gratuitous support from the wide world out there. And maybe, just maybe, land a book deal that'll help me pay for a personal trainer. Those thieving bastards are expensive, yo.
So welcome to Not On the Moon Yet. Stick around, and don't be afraid to show your support.
Cheers,
Blake
I'm sure all you Simpsons fans out there already picked up on this, but the URL of this thing of mine is the first clue what this is all about. It's a pretty obscure reference to an episode of the Simpsons in which Troy McClure's latest educational video is about the gravitational difference between the earth and the moon. After revealing that the moon's gravity causes a person to weigh one-sixth of what they do on earth, a rather chubby young man reaches for some sort of sweet, at which point Troy intervenes and tells him, "you're not on the moon yet, tubby." One of the consequences of all that partying and letting go in my twenties is that I've put on a rather significant amount of weight, and as I've grown up, and denial can no longer allow me to ignore the labels on my pants and the sudden narrowing of the CTA seats here in the Windy City, I've realized that it's time for this weight to come off. Part of it is for health concerns, part of it is for aesthetic appeal to the ladies, part of it is that I really hate wind resistance, but no matter the full list of reasons for it, I'm going to use this forum as a tool to record my progress, motivate myself, discuss the challenges of losing weight and being overweight, entertain any readers who find this site, and hopefully get some gratuitous support from the wide world out there. And maybe, just maybe, land a book deal that'll help me pay for a personal trainer. Those thieving bastards are expensive, yo.
So welcome to Not On the Moon Yet. Stick around, and don't be afraid to show your support.
Cheers,
Blake
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)