Sunday October 19th, 2003
Bro's help at the Gym
(For this journal to make any sense it is encouraged that you have read all previous journals. For those of you who are lazy it is encouraged that you at least read the first paragraph of June 15th, and July 13th)
Instead of the usual Sunday morning dreams of being a Mexican drug smuggler I found myself in a much less enjoyable dream that involved being stuck in grid locked traffic on my way to work. Apparently the grocery baggers union at Ralphs is encouraging motorists to wake up the locals at nine am. As cars drive by the picket line in front of Ralphs and toward my apartment they honk wildly as if their honk would be the one to end the strike and bring down the evil empire that wants people to pay for being sick. (Footnote #1)
When I couldn't take the honking any longer I got out of bed for my usual morning Cherry coke and frozen pizza (Ralph's generic brand, still 5 for $5.) When I went for the fridge I was ambushed by Scott. Although I told him earlier that he should force me to go to the gym regardless of what I said, I explained that it was the old Mike who said that. That he was delusional after watching too many Jared from Subway commercials during a Baywatch rerun. That he had hope. The new me shouldn't be penalized for his mistakes and should be allowed to sit in his boxers, eat his pizza, and watch the Dragon Ball Z marathon. Scott told me that if I didn't get my fat porky white ass off the couch the next slice of pizza I had would be through a straw. Although I found is attempt at humor tired and out dated I couldn't argue with the fact that he could kick my ass with minimal effort.
So I'm on the elliptical machine watching "Punked" on MTV with crappy headphones and I'm taking this almost spiritual time to reflect on my life. You don't seem to see your life deteriorate day by day but every now and then you can take a step back and say, "Wait a minute I could have sworn that in High School I said I would kill myself before it got this bad." The more I worked out the more natural chemical hopes pulsed through my veins. Images of a thinner me accepting my Nobel Prize with my model girlfriend danced through my head. The delusions of a fat man as he breaks his second mile easily defy logic. I know I'll never get a Nobel Prize. Hell the chances of that are almost as bad as me losing weight or getting a girlfriend. The point is for the first time in a while I'm at least trying.
Footnote #1: Before I'm asked about my view of the strike I'll do the responsible thing and say that I don't know enough about it to even have a well informed and completely thought out opinion. Normally the political part of my brain would do more research but it's still too stunned by the phrase, "Governor Schwarzenegger."Related articles:
June 15th -
July 13th -
