Dirty Laundry

Terri Schiavo
Originally uploaded by whaala.

I make my living off the evening news
Just give me something-something I can use
People love it when you lose,
They love dirty laundry

Well, I coulda been an actor, but I wound up here
I just have to look good, I don't have to be clear
Come and whisper in my ear
Give us dirty laundry

Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em all around

We got the bubble-headed-bleach-blonde who
Comes on at five
She can tell you 'bout the plane crash with a gleam
In her eye
It's interesting when people die-
Give us dirty laundry

Can we film the operation?
Is the head dead yet?
You know, the boys in the newsroom got a
Running bet
Get the widow on the set!
We need dirty laundry

You don't really need to find out what's going on
You don't really want to know just how far it's gone
Just leave well enough alone
Eat your dirty laundry

Kick 'em when they're up
Kick 'em when they're down
Kick 'em when they're stiff
Kick 'em all around

Dirty little secrets
Dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybody's pie
We love to cut you down to size
We love dirty laundry

We can do the innuendo
We can dance and sing
When it's said and done we haven't told you a thing
We all know that crap is king
Give us dirty laundry!

Lyrics courtesy of Don Henley's "Dirty Laundry"

I've been told

I hate being told what to do. I have always hated being told what to do. I think I get it from my father, he also hates being told what to do, especially by my mother. I often remember him telling my mother once when I was a teenager, "stop running my train".

That makes me laugh now when I think about that, and sometimes I think that same statement when someone is telling me what to do, like I thought yesterday when I was at the gym.

The gym I attend has recently instituted this new policy requiring not only to sign in at the front desk, but also when you enter the weight machine area. Although the weight machine area is itself it's own room within the gym, it has 2 entrances. In front of one of the entrances the gym staff has instantiated this table to sign in at as you come in. The first time I saw the table I was a "good citizen" and signed in. Fine whatever.

I think the gym itself must have had an incident earlier in the week of someone getting hurt and no one being able to identify the person in the gym. So apparently the solution is this whole sign in procedure, so you know the staff can know who's in the room. After I signed in the first time I found it all alittle ridiculous, for the following reasons:

1) Almost all gyms in America have no system to identify a person once they've entered the gym. It's not like any of us who workout in a gym carry around our driver's license on us, or any type of identification for that matter. That all gets left in the car or the locker room or at home.

2) This particular gym has 2 entrances, so if you happen to sneak through the stretching room (which I'm considering) you could totally bypass the table never sign in and no one know the wiser.

3) What does signing in do anyway? Let's say I'm in the gym like I was on Saturday and there are 5 other women in there (as there were) with me. If I pass out on the elliptical machine (which I was also considering), how long is it going to take to really identify me? Will it even be possible with so many people constantly in and out of the room that although sign in never sign out? You could have up to 20 to 40 names on a sign in sheet all while you're trying to figure out who I am and who's in or out of the room itself. Somewhat ridiculous don't you think?

Yes it is, this doesn't prevent, however, (the next time I walked into the weight room, and bypassed the sign in table without even a glance and walked right up on the treadmill), me getting told to do it anyway. I was just about to start the treadmill when this short pimple (yes pimple on my ass) of a man walked up to me and asked me to sign in. I lamely began to argue that I had already signed in at the front desk, but it was no use to argue with this pimple. This pimple was a RULE pimple, follow the RULES because they are THERE, and they should be FOLLOWED pimple. The pimples who like to run other people's trains! Even if it is stupid in principle as well as practice. So I was told.

Man, I hate getting told what to do...especially by pimples.

A vehicle

Gourmet_cheese
Originally uploaded by whaala.

Laughing cow is a company that makes a great line of cheese products, and maybe other things as well, but I'm too addicted to their cheese right now to really know.

Recently I've become addicted to their new "Gourmet Cheese and Baguettes." I've been eating them as snacks during the day at work. At first I thought that the little baguettes were scrumptous, which they are, but now I'm completely convinced that the baguettes really are just vehicles. Vehicles for the cheese. Mmm cheese.


Other Vehicles that you may not be aware of:


Taco Bell tacos and burritos are vehicles for hot sauce.

Fresh strawberries, rasberries, or blackberries, all vehicles for whip cream.

The movie theatre, a vehicle for heart-attack 3 times popcorn.

College, a vehicle for pizza and ramen noodles.

The Internet, a vehicle for time wastage.

Blogs, a vehicle to make up words like "wastage".

Blog Irony

Doesn't it seem wrong that your blog editor that you write your blog entries into, has a spell checker that doesn't recognize the word blog or blogging or blogger.

The phone, it doesn't stop ringing

You know there is nothing like apartment living to really make you hate the entire human race. There is also nothing like apartment living to make you realize how truly insane all of humanity is.

Here in Massachusetts I live in a very small space. I mean VERY SMALL. I say this because it is my belief that the small the space you live in, the thinner your walls must be. It's like the missing law of averages or physics, or life.

Recently I met my neighbor, a slight woman whom after 8 months of being my neighbor and seeing me often enough to talk to me but never saying anything, said to me "Hi I'm Michele, if you ever need anything let me know." I find this statement rather ironic, as well, I'VE BEEN HERE FOR EIGHT MONTHS NOW. Any help I would have needed would most likely have been EIGHT MONTHS AGO. Ah but I digress, people they are funny things.

Anyway, my said neighbor, Michele, who is actually come to found out from Texas, she is a little odd. This by the way is one of the reasons I have never had a roommate since college. My neighbors have always been weird, WEIRD, and well Michele is no different. Michele, walks her cat, no not on a leash, the cat walks, and she (Michele) walks behind it while reading a book. Yes odd. Meanwhile I am now convinced that she traffics drugs, or sex or, I dunno maybe yarn, or perhaps just cat nip. Who knows but her god damn phone RINGS ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME.

Who is calling this cat following, walk while reading, odd, slight, ex-Texan? And what's more, who is calling her SO much that it has made me write a whole blog post about just how annoying apartment living and neighbors and frankly phones can be.

*sigh*

One thing I've learned from apartment living is that it does no use to speak to the said neighbor about your said annoyance, because well frankly it is already obvious that they are too inconsiderate to care by owning a phone containing the loudest ringtone ever invented! So in my best passive aggressive mentality, I throw a porn in and turn it up. :-)

I wonder if Michele is over there right now blogging about how her annoying neighbor Samantha she believes is addicted to sex, or porn, or both. heh.

Ok ok fine I'll turn it off, I know it's childish, but MY GOD THAT FUCKIN PHONE!

Updated

My friend Tom C. told me to UPDATE MY BLOG yesterday.

This is by no way an appeasement to Tom, however, Tom mentioned that he checks my blog everyday to passively get updated on my life.

I check it everyday too for passive updates to my life, but they just don't really seem to come as often as I would like. ;-)

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