Wazzup goin dowwwwwn mah homIe Gs?
I’m just gonna jump right into the thick of where I left off yesterday…which was ugh IDK and too lazy to look back so I’m just gonna start my journey at 3:23pm the day of yesterday past. I found myself cruising in an elevator up one level to frequent my favorite gym located conveniently in my hotel/condominium. I know most of you are probably thinking “what a fat ass he has to take an elevator up one floor when he is about to work out.”. But no! There is a method to my madness as my dear friend Sherlock would say. When I get in the elevator and push ever so evilly the number ‘2’ I am usually surrounded by those exact types who EVERY TIME push the elevator button for one floor up/down. You know the types…the ones who practiced their arithmetic by counting how many XXL Mickey D combos they can devour in one sitting. So when they expect to go up to the 7th floor but really have to wait for an extra 30 seconds as my fat ass gets off the elevator, I flash them a second long triumphant “look at the misery you put me through ass holes – i could get to my destination 30 seconds early too and actually start watching Honey Boo Boo on time but no…I miss the ‘previously on Honey Boo Boo’ part because I have to wait for your lazy asses to go up one flight how does it feel now bitch” smirk. And before you readers get angry at me because that was a) a really unnecessary rant and b) you might be a lazy elevator person too…don’t worry it is 12:46 am and I am shoveling my face with Chef Boyardee Cheesy Meatball Macaroni. And it tastes like shit.
Anyway, as I was saying, I get to the gym and slowly drag myself to the dumbbell section. I absolutely LOATHE free weights because I have this nagging insecurity that every time I do a certain “move” or “lift” or whatever steroid users call their actions in the gym, I am always thisclose from dropping the 10 pound weight on my face OR I am always exhaling these weirdly sensual but painful sounding yelps as my frail body struggles to bench 45 pounds. So I’m beginning my weirdly sensual but painful sounding routine when I start to glance around the gym and see who I could be embarrassing myself in front of today. And it’s the usual suspects…the brunette runner with pigtails who seems to be much more enthralled with the Golf Network than actually running on the treadmill, or the really old guy with (I suppose formerly) huge muscles that have turned to flab but he insists on wearing muscle Ts probably to remind the old grannies pedaling 0.01 mph watching Oprah reruns that in his heyday, he thought he was a good run in the hay. (yoooo see what I just did there! I think that’s a pun!) I wasn’t too worried then about embarrassing myself until I saw this actually kinda cute looking guy grinning at me. And not just like the guy grinning who you think is looking at you but is really looking at his reflection in the mirror behind you. We made eye connection, and his grin WIDENED. It was so alarming my weirdly sensual but painful sounding yelps almost ceased because I was about to go into full panic mode as I debated whether he was a serial killer or mentally unstable because who in their right mind would be grinning at me while I make THOSE noises!? So I quickly divert my attention to the mirror, power up JLO’s newest hit (long live the Queen), and start lifting again. 5 minutes later, and I muster up the courage to look at him again…and he’s still grinning. at me. and then, to top it off, he NODS at me and winks. I swear to god I was about to dial my emergency number (thankfully I changed it from Dominos to 911) because I felt my heart a-swellin. Just to test the water, my genius intellect thought to itself “show him what you can REALLY do…on the treadmill”. So I drop the weights quickly and approach the treadmill – the gym equipment I feel most comfortable with because somehow my thighs of jello become strangely rigid when I’m running to Katy Perry. My hypothesis is this…if he is smiling just to be friendly he won’t come over…but if he is smiling because of something more…he will definitely come over 😉 😉 😉 . And lo and behold, 3 minutes later he was running next to me and I was like YES, ITS ON!
…thank Hershey I’m not a scientist because my hypothesis was completely wrong – it should have been restated…”if he is smiling just to be friendly he won’t come over…but if he comes over he probably wants to have a workout free of sweat/smell from the person running next to him”. Unfort, when I run, I sweat like every sweat gland in my body has been condemned to the fires of Hell, which creates a rather unpleasant a) odor and b) spray of salty sweat. And due to my (fabulously curly) long hair, this constant waterfall of sweat gets whipped around EVERYWHERE with each step I take to “E.T.” So…alas…3 minutes later after getting the full effects of my workout regiment, poor cute guy with the awkward smile scurried away to a safer, drier environment. C’est la vie.
After the gym, I had a skype interview for a job in which I would be a mentor/RA for RICH high school kids taking collegiate level classes/extracurriculars at Johns Hopkins. I know..if the thought of me mentoring impressionable young children doesn’t send shivers down your spines then you are probably desensitized from watching Wet Hot American Summer too many times. The interview went extremely well thank God until the interviewer casually dropped the fact that one of the rules is a “zero tolerance” policy for RCs (my possible job) drinking OR smoking on the job. The ‘or’ is everything..if it had been an ‘and’, that would have implied I can’t drink and smoke at the same time… so I would have used the loophole where I would take a sip of my purple drank and then fag afterwards so technically I’m not “drinking and smoking”. I know, this is the same logic that Lindsey Lohan uses every time she drinks and drives…anyway, thank God I have a poker face like this guy:
because I immediately pretended to brush that off as if “no biggie; obviously I am an immensely responsible adult and no i was not twerking it to ‘Birthday Song’ in the shower 5 minutes ago”. The great thing about the job is that it acknowledges the fact that traveling across the country is ya know…expensive…so they would pay for all expenses except personal ones AND I would live on Johns Hopkins campus which is 10 minutes away from my favorite family in Baltimore! Given the fact that my only personal expenses would be bulletproof vests and neutral gang color v-necks (when in doubt about how to look like a safe homo, rainbow v-necks are NOT your answer), I was pretty excited about the fact that I could potentially save money this summer. We will see if I get it!!! Toes crossed!
After, I had the CMT music video awards to look forward to after such an awkwardly humiliating workout. I should have known that the CMT awards would be yet another exercise in awkward humiliation because I still have not learned to control my emotions when Carrie wins/loses to Ms. Piggy Lambert and She who shall not be named Swift. (oops…I just avada kadavrad myself 😦 😦 ). Case in point…when Carrie loses to Ms. Piggy for Female Video of the Year, I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and my whole posture resembled something close to this: 
Yet when Carrie won 15 minutes later for Video of the Year, my reaction instantaneously turned to this:
Sigmund Freud would have a field day with my id and ego. Carrie seems to have an instant effect on both…and usually for the more awkward and humiliating. And isn’t it strange that my face contorts in the same way whether I am about to punch-the-nearest-person angry or hug-the-nearest-person happy? oy. Nevertheless thankfully I was about to go to bed extremely happy and my dreams were filled of dueting with Carrie while eating a crunchy wrap supreme from Taco Campanilla.
(editor’s note: in between the previous and future babble, the author took a 8 hour sleep break so any sense of time now is completely effed. As I type this it is Friday at 10:32am if that helps.)
Nothing major happened during the day yesterday except for the fact that at my last day on the job someone whipped out condoms and offered me one.
Thank god my hair doesn’t look like that even though the facial expression is as close to perfect as possible! (although that guys parents clearly didn’t believe in braces…smh)
No, yesterday didn’t get extremely interesting/aggravating until last night after I had a delicious dinner with my friend Lucy. If you can believe this, Lucy has never tasted the calorific taste of Spaghetti-Os!!! And naturally, my attempt at cooking them probably led her to believe the O at the end of the title does not imply what a big O should imply. She had one bite and was like “I don’t think Spaghetti-Os are really my thing…” which is polite girl code for “never again will I let something that tastes that horrific enter my mouth until I’m drunk and make out with a chain smoker”. Afterwards, I went over to my first party sober! And dear god as this was my first experience hanging out with drunk people in 6 years I never realized how unnecessarily LOUD alchies are. I was trying to have a conversation with my old friend Wilma but couldn’t hear her despite her close proximity to my body because my eardrums were being raped by Lil Wayne’s codeine flavored voice talking about million $$$ _____ies(horribly offensive word referring to a girl’s babymaker). blech. I was proud of myself for staying 2 hours though, so as soon as the Heat lost I left for mah bed and dis blog.
…I shouldn’t have left as soon as the Heat lost. Because I was extremely tired I forgot the main street that leads to my apt is directly next to the American Airlines stadium where the Heat play. So as I’m casually humming along to Tic Tok when all of a sudden the floodgates of hell open from the arena and there are people EVERYWHERE. Traffic immediately started becoming stand-still because we poor drivers were playing Frogger with human lives! And as seconds turned into minutes and minutes into cigarettes of me not moving and watching the Human Flood wash over me, I had half a mind to pretend these human lives were indeed annoying frogs and just WIPE THEM OUT BWAAHAHAHAH (future employers reading this: I am completely joking and have never had a homicidal thought in my life, like eva except for when Carrie loses but you should already know that…). Instead of giving these fools a game-over, I began a lengthy route home that involved 3.5 U-turns and countless wrong turns into ghettos, where homeless people became the new frogs. Little white boy gets lost in big urban city part 3434028 :(. Finally I meander my way home and make a steaming bowl of Chef Boyardee to wipe away the pain and horror I just experienced …and I realize we’ve come full circle since yesterday/two days ago/whenever (editor’s note: our village idiot writer is still confused about the time…) so I guess I will leave yall here. I’ll obvi keep you posted about the job search – hopefully this works out! I can then delay crossing off “69th st lightpole dancer” off my rock bottom bucket list. Snaps for that!
I'm (Sober) In Miami, Betch 