January 8
 
 

Heh, nice hair.
 
 
 

So, welcome to 2002.  It's been good to me so far.  I've always tried to stay away from doing the resolution thing, but wind up making all of these deals with myself and then posting them on my page:  "Although this is not technically a resolution, because I am too cool to make resolutions, THIS year, I will _____"  or "THIS year I'll stop ______!".  Well, this year, I have a bunch of goals, but they're all secret.  That's right! Every last one of them! This is not because I don't want to share, but because every time I blurt out a list of what I'd like to happen, it DOESN'T happen, and then I'm embarrassed that I didn't do what I said.  Not like you're all holding me to what I say ("Dear Dana:  What happened to that peacekeeping mission you were planning on taking?  It seems appropriate now more than ever!  Love, Curious!"  "Dear Dana:  I thought you were going to take the stairs every day?  Defeatedly,  Your Gigantic Rear") but there's still a certain amount of me feeling like a big old lying sack of shit when I don't follow through on my plans, even though the only one I'm hurting is ME.

That's why THIS YEAR is going to be different.  I'm not going to tell you all what  my secret resolutions or goals are, like to be out of this job within 6 months or to take some classes and learn a new thing or two.  I'm not talking about it, okay?  Because if I do, and it doesn't happen, well, then, I'll feel like a dork.  What if I CAN'T find a new job in 6 months?  What if it takes SEVEN months?  What if I've hit my learning cap, and am no longer able to absorb new information?  Gah, the reasons for not telling you what I'm up to are seemingly limitless.  Limitless and boring.  What I want from 2002 are the same as what everyone else wants, more or less:
 

Be happy.  Changing _____ will make self happy, so change _____ and be happy!
 

See?  It's as simple as that.  I don't need to go into more detail.
 

The Place I Go, Every Now And Again:

So, yesterday, I was at the place I won't mention by name because as soon as I start mentioning that I'm going there, I STOP going there, but I was there.  You know where I mean.  THERE.  Okay, so I was there, and I was doing some stuff on some of the machines, and after an hour, I felt sufficiently sweaty and rank, but still wanted a little bit more of a workout.  I sat myself down on a recumbant bike with a copy of Entertainment in hand.  Because I am polite, I never sit down at a machine directly next to someone, unless there's no other choice.  I sit.  I put my feet in the feet-holders.  (Stirrups?  What are they?)  I petal.  I am reminded, within seconds the important thing:  I HATE BIKE RIDING.

Anhow, I pedal along, reading about Such and Such being on the outs with Random Slut Actress #4.  About Converse being HIP AGAIN (oh, fuck OFF.  When were they not hip?) and whatever else, when I hear this NOISE.  A human noise, it is, but I can not figure how it's coming out of a human.  I glance over.  There is a treMENdous guy two bikes down from me.  He is panting and wheezing, but he is pedaling rather hard, unlike me (remember: I hate biking, and I find recumbant bikes particularly loathesome), so I pay him no mind.  Again, the noise.  If you will, please imagine you've a super stuffy nose.  And pretend that you are one of those people who, rather than blowing OUT, snorts IN, achieving that noise I can't even attempt to spell.

Right.  So, he's wheezing and panting, and the nose thing, then there's a "WHOO!! WHOO!! WHOO!!"  every few minutes.  Not a self-congratulatory "Wooo!! GOOD JOB!!"  More a "Whoo, WHOO..someone wheel over the crash cart! Whoo, I'm  going to die!"  kind of thing.  From WHOOO WHOOO he moved to more of that nose thing.  And then, he did it.  It went like this:

Wheee-wheee-wheee-huhhh-HUUUHHH-HUUHHHHHH-HUUUHhhhh!
Huuuhhh-WHOOO!!! WHOOO!! WHOOO!! WHOOO!!!!!-huuunnnnn!!!
SNNHHHH! SNEEHHHH! SNEEEEEH!!! SNNNUUUH!!! HUH HUH HUH!!!
HUH!! HUH!! HUH!!! HUH!!!! HUH!!!! HUH!!!! HUH!!!! HUH!!
Sccchhhhhhhhhhhh.  HUUCCCHHHHHHHHHHHH! TUAAHHHHH!

Then:

Gluh!
SWALLOW.

Yep.  He hocked out this big loogie, and swallowed it.  And yet, I'm worried that I'll be the biggest freak at the gym?  Heh.
 
 

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