"Just another manic Monday" -- The Bangles

"Makes me that much stronger, makes me work a little bit harder..." --Christina Aguilera

So, as of yesterday, I am proud to report that I have completed 22 days of the 63 day Insanity workout.  Impressed?  I am.  I was pretty sure I'd have quit by now.  But I'm seeing results and that spurs me on.  I can do more now.*  Some people say it takes a while to see results but I can honestly say I see the difference already.

I'm pretty sure my calves are thicker.  Yup.  Nice thick calves.  Sexy, no?

Ah, calf guys, they're almost as prevalent as eyebrow guys.

I actually did receive a compliment on my eyebrows from a guy many years ago.  I am not kidding.  He wanted to show his girlfriend my eyebrows so she might learn how to shape them.  Um, ...yeah, okay.  I can see your relationship is at that critical development stage:  the "Let me spend some time telling you what's wrong with you and how you can fix it" stage.  Women love that.

Question du jour:  What's the weirdest body part for which you've received a compliment?



* More sweating, more collapsing, more crying...

"Says she wanna dance cus she likes the groove" --Young MC

Maybe I'm profiling here.  'Cause I'm going to say something that brands a whole category of people and probably isn't fair.  BUT, I'm saying it.  Because I see it.  I don't want to see it.  But I do see it.  A LOT. 

It isn't that all of them do it, but,... 

And, don't get me wrong, some of my best friends are...

Um, maybe I should just get on with this.

About a week ago, we joined friends at the Bethesda Blues and Jazz Supper Club.   The space is interesting and the food/drink is okay and the bands are enjoyable but what happened... what we witnessed... *shudder*

It's not the club's fault.  Well, it sorta is... they do have that dance floor... 

*deep breath*  Okay.

What is it about middle-aged, white women and bands?  Why do these women insist on dancing, by themselves or with each other, when they can NOT dance?  But, there they were, Cinderella's three ugly stepsisters, lined up in all their gawkiness in front of the stage, getting down. Not one in time with the band.  They weren't even in time with each other.

#1 was doing the "overzealous hip sway with occasional out-of-time clap".

#2 was doing the "step-left-step-right-repeat with your arms up and at odd angles like you are reaching for a light bulb in a closet".

#3 was doing the "'I'm trying to find the beat' toe tap with the wobbly, 270 degree spin around".

WHY?!  Why can't we eradicate this scourge in our lifetime?

At some point in my life, I accepted the fact that I don't have the dance gene.  Wish I did.  I don't.  I moved on.

Questions du jour:  

1. Why can't most middle-aged, white women dance?
2. Why do they insist on dancing anyway?
3. Are they taking Lee Ann Womack's request too literally?
   
   
   

"Karma, karma, karma, karma, Karma Chameleon" --Culture Club

Act 1)  As we enter the Metro car, I notice a woman is sitting in the first seat of a fairly crowded Metro train, in the aisle seat.  No one is in the window seat.  I make eye contact with her, a clear challenge.  Oh, yeah, I'm all over the glaring.  To my surprise, she moves.  That is, she moves her knees, only, out toward the aisle:  the universal symbol for "you can squeeze by me."  I squeeze by her, thinking "maybe she's getting off at the next stop."  Nope.  We travel past half a dozen stops and wind up getting off before her, which means I get to squeeze by her again.  WTF, lady?!  Do you just crave the feel of strangers awkwardly brushing by you?

Act 2)  Karma, I love you.  As we are riding and I am questioning what this chick's problem is, a short man with a messenger bag strapped across his back gets on the train and positions himself with one hand on the vertical bar and the other stretched awkwardly up to the overhead bar, his legs trying to stay planted broadly, a la Larry Craig.  He is stretched out like he's playing Twister.  Or maybe desperate to de-wedgie his underwear without actually using his hands.  Because this would be a hard position to maintain for anyone, much less someone of his shortitude, he is anything but stable, the messenger bag swings wildly behind him and very close to the face of my charming seatmate.  Repeatedly.  The trip gets a lot more entertaining.

Questions du jour (pick any or all): 

1. What is wrong with people?!
2. Does anyone ever play Twister except as an excuse for physical contact?
3. Why did our parents buy Twister?!??  What were they thinking?!
4. Should bags have an indicator to tell the carrier "Hey!!  I'm about to crash into someone!"?
5. Is karma real?

"Dress me, I'm your mannequin" --Lady Gaga

This ad popped up on the interwebs this morning with the tag line: "Make a statement.  Stuart Weiztman." 

What statement? 

"I watch too many gladiator movies"?!

I wonder how these ropey, flat heeled things look when she isn't flexing. 

And losing her blouse.

Question du jour #1:  Are boot/sandles (bandles?) sexy?

On another advertising note, have you seen the HTC Facebook phone commercial where the young woman is in the museum but her Facebook updates are superimposed on everything?  I find this really disturbing.  They seem to be saying:  Even when you are in this fascinating museum, you can be totally disconnected from the amazing things around you, including your date, and just focus on your insular little social media world!   WTF?!  Is she forced to go to the museum?  Maybe she should just stay home on her phone all day. 

Question du jour #2:  How is this selling phones?!  Somebody explain this to me, please!