Dear Super In-Shape Guy at the Gym,
We all noticed you bust a front double bicep as soon as you got into the gym. We also saw you piss all over that bench just incase anyone didn’t know it wasn’t taken. But do you really need to stand there pretending you are a Greek god? You’re blocking the aisle for the rest of us, get walking. You remember how to walk don’t you? It’s one set of knuckles in front of the other.
Okay, so if you’ve got it, flaunt it, I suppose, but would it really kill you when it’s just the TWO of us in the cardio area, to just keep your shirt on instead of going all Matthew McConaughey while running on the treadmill? In the words of Phil Foster, “…for the love of God, put on a fucking shirt.” You don’t see me taking my shirt off do you? (Collective sigh of relief) Not even when I’m hot from the alcohol. It’s called manners.
I understand that you think nobody wants you to keep your shirt on, and your pulsating veins demand our attention. But seriously, what in roid hell is going on with your arms and legs? Just looking at you makes my own veins all tingly. If someone touched one of your veins, I think it would touch them back. Sometimes, I get the distinct feeling your veins want to chat with me as you walk by.
Lastly, I find it amusing how you will attempt to lift more weight than usual when women come around. Just to let you know, you look constipated, and your pulsating veins are trying to tell you that it’s not a good look for you. Maybe you can’t understand them since the only way you seem to communicate is through grunts.
Much Love,
Guy Who’s Already Sweating After Walking Up The Stairs
All in all, it hasn’t been a good week. Bad traffic, being late for work, mounds of homework and tests, a malfunctioning computer, and incompetent coworkers all made me a bubbling cauldron of hate. But more importantly for this story, the work bathroom has smelled like it had been over forty-eight hours since whoever used it last had last taken a dump and expelled whatever had died up there. It was asstastic.
Now…let me tell you the story of how I became blind in my right eye.
It hit me. My colon informed me with a sudden cramp that I needed to visit the little boy’s room. I gaily made my way into the back when I noticed that the bathroom was occupied. No big deal, I wasn’t in dire need of the restroom. No sudden wet, squeaky farts telling me that everything needed to go. So I waited…and waited…and waited. In fact, I waited so long, that I damn near forgot that I need to go until my bowels let me know on no uncertain terms that I needed to get in there. I made my way back there again, this time a little more hastily than before, and was thrilled to see that bathroom was open. As I entered the bathroom, I was met by a horrible, unearthly stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul mist quickly made its way through my nasal passage and began choking me. How could this be? Who would do such a thing? Maybe I’m the only one that believes you should have the utmost standards in bathroom etiquette at work. Sometimes, you should just take that *shit* home and wreck your own bathroom.
I was stuck. There was no stopping me. I couldn’t just slam my sphincter shut for the rest of the day and call it good. I had to go. As I trekked deeper into the bathroom, I surveyed the damage that was left. It looked as though something had actually recoiled out of the toilet bowl and ran down the side to the floor. Tears involuntarily began to run down my face from the burn. As I continued to survey the disaster, I noticed that the toilet paper dispenser was dreadfully low. The user before me used a considerable amount of paperwork for his supernatural elimination. Was it too low? Will there be enough? I had to take my chances. The subtle rumble of my insides were telling me, “Any longer, and we will be having a clearance sale. Everything Must Go!”
I proceeded with my business. My eyes were burning and the tears were rapidly flowing down my face. Sounds of suppressed gagging and retching filled the bathroom. I could not take much more of this. I had to escape, and soon. I gripped the toilet paper dispenser with one hand and braced myself against the side of the wall with my other hand and pushed with everything I had. I was finally rewarded with comfort and knew that I was almost out of there. I used up what was left of the toilet paper and whoever said “less is more” was not kidding. I should receive a medal for being able to do a full clean up with only having half the materials to do it with.
I quickly washed my hands and noticed that the mirror was being faded out by the haze left over from the previous occupant. I was failing to realize that the burn from the mist was doing more damage to me than just causing me to cough and gag. I ran out of there and as I exited the bathroom, I realized that the blur caused by the mist was not clearing up. Could it be? Did that green haze damage me for life? As I continued on, I ran into another co-worker, literally, since I could no longer see out of my right eye. With fear etched into my face, all I could say to her was…“Gotta go… horrible… throw up…in my mouth… not… make it… tell my family… love them… oh God…”
And this, my friends, is how I lost vision in my right eye; my good eye.
Can I just say that moving is possibly the worst thing in the world besides Crystal Pepsi? What happened to the good old days of feeding a starving student and having all of your shit moved by the time you got the kitchen cleaned up? Anyway, we have been moving and without our satellite TV for almost a week now. I really haven’t been sad about this since I have my wonderful Western Digital TV Live box which allows me to stream right from my computer or the internet. It. Is. Spec-tac-u-lar! I think Mike is dealing with it pretty well; although, I did find some claw marks on the old remotes and sometimes hear crying at night during what would have been “Glee viewing time.” Just kidding. Mike seems to be doing really well with this no-more-tv-ness style we have going. Maybe this would give you time to do other things Mike. Important things, like creating a Camilla Toe Facebook page. Imagine the good you could do with that!
So the countdown begins and as of posting time; I have 28 hours until I start bringing back the eighties with my 80’s Spin Night. Originally this was created to celebrate my birthday week at the gym, but it has become an event of its own. I have been getting music suggestions from people, whether I want them or not, every time I talk about it. I even had my class do a few suggestions, or requests as I like to call them. Mike laughs about this, believing I was too young to remember much of the decade. This plays to my advantage since I cannot remember many of the fashions, and looking back, no loss there.
Here’s to the 80’s, Twisted Sisters on MTV, and all the fun you had that you can “totally remember.” I think that if she could, my friend Heather would still be in the 80’s shaking her ass on the hood of White Snake’s car with her hair as big as a bus. Three words: Like Totally Rad!
Well, well, well…it’s been too long since my last post, but let’s move on. This year I am celebrating my ∞ birthday. Yes, that’s right, my ∞ birthday. If you had asked my age before, I would have normally told you to cut me in half and go phuck yourself. Anyway, I was going back and forth on whether to celebrate this year or lay low, and someone really hot asked me if I was going to celebrate my turning ∞, leaving behind all the things I didn’t do in my twe…..err….earlier years. Thinking back, I decided that I am going to celebrate leaving behind all the things I did do that I either shouldn’t have done or don’t remember doing; like that pencil thin eyebrow incident. Yes Mike, all of those pictures have been destroyed….or have they???
So…I will be celebrating my birthday week, that’s right, week, and doing something all week long ending the B-Day week with a trip to Vegas for a little clubbing and some Phantom of the Opera viewing. Everyone is invited to celebrate with me, whether it is here or in spirit, or at my 80’s Spin Night (Wednesday, May 19th, 5:30 PM, Gold’s Gym). I am hoping that someone will voluntarily throw a birthday bash for me, but I’m not counting on it…maybe…I am going to sub out my spin class next week just in case. Just a hint that this would be an excellent time to try all of those “drinks o' the day” that someone keeps posting about.
Anywho, just to recap, it’s my birthday week, all week. When you see me, say hi, I won’t be easily missed with the inside-out Burger King crown painted red with the phrase “It’s My Birthday Bitches” written on it. I do accept gifts, cash and checks (with a check guarantee card). Hopefully I will see you all next week, maybe at some random birthday party! YAY!
Well My Bitches…it has been months, literally, since my last post. Let’s just chalk it up to a production break between seasons of my blog. Bwahahaha! Anyway, school has been a bit harsh and has been demanding a lot of my time. Statistics is one of the hardest classes I have taken thus far in my education career. Most of the other students in the class have failed it at least once and this is either their second or third time taking it. Statistically speaking that means each one of us is, wait…I don’t know what the hell this means statistically since I’m not doing so hot in the class. Ha Ha, stupid bitch.
Anyway, my new goal is to post more on this damn blog than I have been. I will not promise anything, except that I will backhand a child in the near future, but I will do my best to continually add content to this here blog. Initially I setup this blog to house my thoughts and feelings on the stupidity of mankind, but have found that to be too taxing. Instead of writing on the ghetto fabulousness of stupid people, I end up going home, taking five Xanax and drinking myself into a coma to deal with the harsh reality of our government putting a moratorium on natural selection. Remember, “Stupidity only hurts its victims, not its champions.” (Thanks Mike and Nathan!)
I am hoping to add a little more to the format of my posts. I will still post my witty repertoire and quips about my constant hatred of the human race (DEATH TO HUMANS!), but I thought I would chronicle my way back to healthy eating. In layman’s terms: a diet. Yes, it is true. I have gained back 35 pounds since my great weight loss in late 2008 and 20 of those pounds have been since January. No matter how much I want it and try for it, I just can’t bring fat and nasty back. And since Justin Timberlake already brought sexy back, I really have nothing to bring. “It’s already been brought-en.”
In an effort to catch you all up on what I have been doing over the past few months, I have compiled a few points of interest for you. (Is it just me, or does this post seem to go on and on?) Anyway, here they are…
Somewhere in there I also instituted a personal ban on Café Rio. It’s too much to go in to, but let’s just say they are “champions.” I think that may be all for now, but I will keep you posted and continue to work on updating this blog. OH!, before I forget, I did upload some new music to the player. I hope that you enjoy! TTFN!
