April 4th, 2005

Short hair suspicion

WARNING WARNING WARNING. Offensive content ahead

Okay. If you have a weak stomach please turn back. I warned you.




So I was on my treadmill (NO! Really?) at about 9:15 this evening. I turned on 13 going on 30 on the television, as it seemed like something light and frothy to half pay attention to during a good workout. As a side note, Jennifer Garner is quite beautiful, and her beauty is unusual among female celebrities. She's gorgeous because she has such a square jaw but with soft feminine features and the milkiest softest looking skin. It's tomboy gorgeous, where a woman enhances her femininity by trying to hide it but failing. This enhances the femininity an gives it some edge, creating a very pleasurable effect. Garner's taken a lot of heat for being in a bad TV show and sexing it up with Ben Affleck, who is the country's most hated celeb at this point, but she doesn't deserve it. She has some talent and she's really really pretty. As for Affleck, I kind of feel sorry for the slob although not much since he's rich and fucking Jennifer Garner. He made some bad script choices and gave some bad performances but he's not that untalented. He's also not that handsome, no male celebrities really are. Female celebs are often incredibly almost incomprehensibly gorgeous, but male celebrities often just look like handsome guys who've been polished up and well lit. You could find a guy as good looking as Affleck in most classrooms or baseball teams.

What's my point? I'm just giving you scanners a chance to turn back before we reach the gross stuff. You've got a shot. It's here.

So I was on the treadmill, and I was naked. I get kind of hot working out, and with the drapes shut and me alone in the house why NOT workout naked? I think wearing clothes all the time when you're alone is a puritan thing. Anyway, I was working pretty hard, I put myself on fat-burn for 30 minutes with the highest top speed I've done, and it was tough but it felt good. I was moving, the movie was kind of stupid but acceptably done, and I was working up a sweat. About 20 minutes in to the workout I passed gas a couple times. No big deal, I thought, exercise often has the effect of stimulating egestion and the room had some ventilation so I wasn't going to suffocate in a dutch oven. Then about 2 minutes later I started to feel some droplets trickling down my legs. I thought they were sweat, of course, since I was sweating. Usually sweating is concentrated on the upper body, but then I usually wear sweat pants when working out so they absorb any lower body sweat. So far this was unusual, but not a cause for worry. The liquid running down my legs increased, though, and as I had about 2 minutes left in my workout I looked down to see that both my legs were covered in this reddish liquid that had streamed down them and was soaking into my socks. I instantly knew what had happen. Those little farts hadn't been so harmless after all, but had instead carried some sort of fecal matter out with them into the crack of my ass, where it had remained. Once there the fecal matter started irritating the ass, and then the friction of the fast walking took over. What I was looking at on my legs was a wonderful mixture of shit, sweat, and blood. All mine. My immediate thought was "Oh crap, I hope this doesn't get on the treadmill!" I am not the squeamish type but I like to keep my $3000 pieces of furniture as shit and blood free as is humanly possible. My second thought was a more unusual one. Do I finish this workout, which I was really proud of myself for doing because it was pretty tough, or do I head for the shower. I made a calculation. At the rate the liquid was soaking through my socks I had about two and a half minutes before it went down to the soles. I had two minutes left of work. I decided to stick it out, and I did. To those of you who are squeamish that might sound like the height of disgustingness, but the way I see it those are all just liquids from my body and while I wouldn't want to ingest any of them, they don't really bother me on my skin. Towards the end I had to walk on the side of one foot to avoid polluting the mill, but I did it, and hopped off. A few droplets of shit and blood did get on the tread, but that was earlier when I hadn't noticed, and I carefully washed it off. I then showered. From now on I at LEAST wear boxers shorts while working out.

Oh and on another note, my feet are incredibly sore from all the pounding they've taken recently but ironically since the treadmill is softer than my floors I only feel it when I get off, and they feel fine when I'm actually on the thing. This has lead to me vastly underestimating the pain of getting off and muttering several obscenities. I also hobble around like an old man and can barely get to the phone when it rings, but I don't mind. The calluses will come and I'll be fine. The pleasure and gains are worth the pain.
  • Current Music
    Frank Sinatra -The Girl Next Door (Worst songwriting EVER!)
Masa of the force

Realization

Okay. I just realized that I need to write like 10 hours a day just to shovel myself out from under all the projects I've assigned myself. I have absolutely no more time to waste just dicking around. Treadmilling is okay, as is watching movies on TV as research, but something has to give and it's going to have to be all the time I spend just doing...nothing. I'm going to be busy. This is scary.
  • Current Music
    Public Enemy
pod

Tivo my heart from breaking

I bought a Tivo. It was a bunch of money but I will finally be able to defeat those incessant food commercials and be freed from the need to watch TV. I suspect I will record a lot of shows that I won't watch, and that will be a good thing because I watch too much TV. It's really a matching appliance to the treadmill, so I can always have something to watch while on it and I don't need to worry about the damn McDonald's crap.

In other news I think I am going to destroy my treadmill far ahead of schedule. While it's working great now, I can hear the motor whine as I hit the harder workouts I've been doing. I don't think the thing expects someone as heavy as I am to be hitting it as hard as I am. I'm 0.1 MPH from the default setting on fat burn, and well over twice the default weight. What can I say? I move well for a big guy, always have, probably always will (according to doctor's measurements my ideal size for my body type is 6'0" and 210 lbs. That's well over normal, but I'm just big all over. That was not a reference to my penis.) I'm hoping that what'll happen is the motor will burn out after 6 months or a year rather than after 3 years. I can deal with that. For one thing it's got a warranty and I sent in the card, for another I can always buy a new one if I have to, I have the money and this thing is going to save my life. What's the point of scrimping on something that will save your life? To buy a nicer car down the road? Huh?

I am much happier since I've been exercising. It does a mind AND body good. Anyone who isn't doing so right now should figure out a plan. Even people in their 70's who feel debilitated get a nice boost in every way from getting some exercise in. I know why I stopped, but I shouldn't have. Stupid stupid stupid me.

Today my friend who, according to him, is TOTALLY not a closeted homosexual told me that looking at pictures of naked women was "Of COURSE" boring. He stopped short of calling it gay.

This time.
  • Current Music
    Nothing
pod

The death of the past

My new Tivo is big. I bought the 140 hour version, though I don't know if that matters one way or the other. It is a bulky machine, larger than my cable box, and it demands a large amount of space on my shelving unit where I keep my various TV related gadgets (Video game machines, cable box, etc...) This instantly created a "Survivor" situation where something had to be kicked off the island. It wasn't going to be the cable box or the Xbox, the two units I actually use on a regular basis. My PS2 couldn't be taken out because it is the main system for RPGs, and I have plans for treadmill/RPG marathons that must not be disrupted. The Gamecube got to stay because it is so fucking tiny that to get rid of it would free up approximately enough room to replace it with a Triscuit, and I would rather place a delicious Triscuit in my mouth than on the wooden shelving that serves me as an entertainment center. Seriously, who keeps a Triscuit on their entertainment center? What does it do? Sit there and look wheaty? That's not entertaining. Bread does that. Bread has more gluten.

That left one choice. The Dreamcast. Ahh Dreamcast, the last great gasp of hardware from the mighty Sega corporation. The one true hope of gamers everywhere on 9/9/99. A simpler time. A time when Bill Clinton was in office and this country wasn't headed in the crapper. I was 17, it was Autumn, and my first semester of College, which turned out incredibly badly.

That's right. Hooked on Everquest and in a dorm room I absolutely despised I stopped going to class and nearly flunked out of school before having to take a Medical leave of absence. Upon returning, staying at home this time, I finished with a 3.8617 GPA in 3.5 years, but back then I was at the absolute low point of my life and I wanted to kill myself almost every day. I played EQ to escape and that just made my existence more hellish. I was scared to go out, scared to meet anyone, and I saw myself as headed down a long slow spiral into oblivion. I gained like 100 pounds, which I've never taken off, and broke my dorm chair. I ran home when I had to use the bathroom, since I hated the unisex one in the dorm full of pranksters and assholes, and I didn't always make it in time. My life was hell.

But Sonic was there for me. That's right. Sonic the Hedgehog was always there to put a smile on my face and say "Don't kill yourself just yet, you can spare an hour for a little Blue Blur in a cartoony world." And when Sonic wouldn't do it NFL 2K would. "Life isn't so bad when Tiki Barber is racking up 210 yards on the Redskins, now is it?" The game would ask, and I would grudgingly answer "I guess not." Ready 2 Rumble almost made me friends, as people came in to check it out, before I shut and bolted the door and refused to answer if anyone knocked, like some sort of fat, junior Howard Hughes. I didn't pee in bottles, but if I'd had bottles to pee in I would have considered it.

I can't claim that Dreamcast saved my life. A lot of things did that. My psychologist, reading, my personal trainer Roberto, whose gym sessions gave me a reason to get out of bed on occasion and whose stories of almost beating up Robert DeNiro amused me to no end. I will claim that the Dreamcast made that time a lot more bearable than it might have been otherwise. I bought the latest games on a credit card and felt okay for awhile, the same as eating an entire bag of Nachos or Hohos and not confronting the fact of my father's death (A favorite past time.) Looking forward to the new games gave me something to hope for. The VMU pleased me to no end.

The Dreamcast was a great little machine for me, and I was very sad when they stopped making games for it. I'd already moved on to the Ps2 and the Xbox at that point, but I still loved the feel of the Dreamcast controller in my hand, it's ungainly rough angles making it feel like something real and tangible.

I haven't played it in years but it remained in my setup, plugged in and as ready for a game of Zombies Revenge as on the day it shipped. I should have bought a backup unit but never did, I guess I knew that eventually I would grow tired of it (though it still has some GREAT fucking games) and move on. I don't know if it still works to be honest, and I don't want to know if it doesn't.

Today it lost its spot on that wooden rack. It was exchanged for TiVo. Something newer and bigger and entirely different. TiVo doesn't unlock anything, it's just a management tool for the TV you already have. It represents the needs not of a young boy desperate for SOMETHING to fill his meaningless empty horrible life with light and color and fun, but of a young man who has a lot of stuff to get done, though not as much as he'd like, and wants to cut some of the fat out of how he spends his time. It is meant to cut me loose of the tether of TV and let me do what I want to do when I want to do it without missing programming. Right now I have "24" on Pause while I write this. I want to do a treadmill session and I want to be able to skip the commercials. I also want to finish the entry without time pressure. TiVo is paying off already.

As for the Dreamcast, I'll put it in a box somewhere near the thousand dollars of games I bought for it, some never even opened. I don't consider them a bad investment. Waiting for the mail gave a rhythm and reason to my days. The games were a drug, sure, but they were a relatively harmless one and they got me through in one (enormous) piece. It's just a hunk of metal and plastic, and it won't feel any different in a box then it did on a shelf. ChuChu rocket can go unplayed for another few years. The ChuChus need the rest.

Still I can't help but feel that I am abandoning an old friend. Dreamcast was there for me at my darkest hour, promising pleasure and fun and something to light the abyss. Now I feel better, I'm doing better, and I don't need it. I have the fancier system and less time to game. I have better things to do, so it has to go. It's like The Giving Tree, I imagine some day I'll use it to prop up a table or hold down the pages of a script. It gave me everything it had in its little white (now off-white) plastic body and asked for nothing in return except a little electricity and some button presses.

R.I.P. my little friend, you may be hidden from sight now but you are not forgotten. The Skies of Arcadia will continue to live forever in my mind. Powerstone, Crazy Taxi, Jet Grind Radio, your love is still reciprocated.

The Dreamcast has a modem in it, one of the many innovations that made it so wonderful. Maybe I'll plug it in one last time for old-time's sake and navigate on over to this page with its primitive web-browser. Let it know how much it meant to me. Then it will be banished to the back of some closet, to gather more dust and wait for the day I move out of this place and put it in another closet. I just hope that somewhere in its 128 bit processor it has an inkling of how much it meant for me and how much I love it still. Best $199 (plus tax) anyone ever spent.
  • Current Music
    George Thorogood