addiction and annoying gym couples
I'm addicted to watching T.V. shows on DVD. I spend a lot of time thinking about my beloved shows and exactly when I'll have the chance to watch another episode. Sometimes I'll be out partying with my friends and I'll excuse myself early in the evening because I can hear the siren song of my stories. Currently, I feel the most stress when I can't get my fix because some asshole has checked out the DVD I need. At the moment I'm watching Project Runway – Season Two, and I just finished up the second season of Nip/Tuck.
Brilliant!
But I haven't been able to get my hands on season three of Nip/Tuck or discs three and four of Project Runway. I even signed up for Blockbuster online in an attempt to expedite the whole process.
OK – so in my queue I put the first two discs of Nip/Tuck, In Her Shoes (totally, totally gay, but so satisfying – any movie that opens with "Stupid Girl" and stars Shirley McLaine is an instant classic in my book) and Lemony Snicket (beautifully shot, but lame - Jim Carrey ruined the whole thing. If I wanted to see Ace Ventura all over again I'd have rented that instead). You can only have three movies at a time so of course what did they send me? The two movies and DISC TWO of Nip/Tuck.
Huh? I mean, I'm sure it's all automated, but WTF??
So now I'm in hell because I'm sitting on disc two, but I can't watch it because I have to watch the first three episodes first.
Honestly – Blockbuster online is the most heinous villain since Hitler.
On another topic - I can finally say - with all humbleness - that my semi-obsessive gym attendance appears to FINALLY be paying off. I had decided a year ago to seriously up my cardio and also to make a half-assed attempt at cutting down on shitty foods and alcohol. And I actually have lost ten pounds since last fall, although when I look at myself naked in the mirror it's hard for me to tell if my body has visibly changed. The one place I can definitely tell I've lost weight is in my face (unfortunately, double chins and love handles appear to be part of my genetic code).
I figure if I can lose about another five pounds I can be satisfied with myself. After all, there's got to be a little something to grab onto, right??
I mean, if I were straight – god forbid - I'd probably be married with three kids and topping 215 pounds at this point in my life.
I was at the gym on Sunday afternoon and the cutest fucking couple I've ever seen in t-shirts and spandex sauntered in. They were both gorgeous and had 1% body fat and were perfectly coiffed and had asses of steel. I was seriously mesmerized by the guy's perfect ass and calves and the girl's rock-hard boobs. If they're not having the hottest sex ever, there is something seriously wrong with them.
But of course they had to be douchebags. Nobody that beautiful can possibly be cool. I almost had a stroke when the guy would take a break from his weight lifting to walk up to the girl doing her elliptical and give her a little kiss. You've got to be fucking kidding me, right? I made a disgusted sound, but every sound coming out of my mouth probably sounds disgusting when I'm working out, and they didn't notice. And what were they watching on T.V. (cranked to an ear-splitting level, of course)? Animal Planet. Freaks. They thought it was just so cute and kept laughing and laughing at the antics of the little wolves, or whatever they were. And then when I looked over at the T.V. I saw a big wolf dragging an antelope carcass across the prairie.
Jesus. I made a disgusted sound. The beautiful people didn't notice.
Why am I so disgusted by people in love? Why do I want to run them down with my Camry? It's got to just be one of those things - like how you hate small children until you have one or how you want to gouge out your eyes every time you see a pair of Crocs until you actually wear them.
Just kidding. I will never wear a pair of Crocs.
All right - here is one more little random weekend story. P. had about ten gay boys over to his new condo on Saturday evening to check it out. I had met everybody there before except for one guy who showed up around 9:00. And I definitely thought he was the cutest. He was kind of a slender guy with black hair and funky glasses and an amazing smile. He also had a cool belt. We were talking for about a half hour and I really kind of started to have the feelings for him, and then I made the mistake of asking him what year he was born.
1987.
Yep – 1987.
In 1987 I was twelve.
I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can justify screwing around with someone who's barely legal…can I? And just to make it a little more difficult I found out from one of my buds that this kid thinks I'm cute. Blimey!
I can't do it. I just can't.
But, of course, now I'm obsessed with it.
Brilliant!
But I haven't been able to get my hands on season three of Nip/Tuck or discs three and four of Project Runway. I even signed up for Blockbuster online in an attempt to expedite the whole process.
OK – so in my queue I put the first two discs of Nip/Tuck, In Her Shoes (totally, totally gay, but so satisfying – any movie that opens with "Stupid Girl" and stars Shirley McLaine is an instant classic in my book) and Lemony Snicket (beautifully shot, but lame - Jim Carrey ruined the whole thing. If I wanted to see Ace Ventura all over again I'd have rented that instead). You can only have three movies at a time so of course what did they send me? The two movies and DISC TWO of Nip/Tuck.
Huh? I mean, I'm sure it's all automated, but WTF??
So now I'm in hell because I'm sitting on disc two, but I can't watch it because I have to watch the first three episodes first.
Honestly – Blockbuster online is the most heinous villain since Hitler.
On another topic - I can finally say - with all humbleness - that my semi-obsessive gym attendance appears to FINALLY be paying off. I had decided a year ago to seriously up my cardio and also to make a half-assed attempt at cutting down on shitty foods and alcohol. And I actually have lost ten pounds since last fall, although when I look at myself naked in the mirror it's hard for me to tell if my body has visibly changed. The one place I can definitely tell I've lost weight is in my face (unfortunately, double chins and love handles appear to be part of my genetic code).
I figure if I can lose about another five pounds I can be satisfied with myself. After all, there's got to be a little something to grab onto, right??
I mean, if I were straight – god forbid - I'd probably be married with three kids and topping 215 pounds at this point in my life.
I was at the gym on Sunday afternoon and the cutest fucking couple I've ever seen in t-shirts and spandex sauntered in. They were both gorgeous and had 1% body fat and were perfectly coiffed and had asses of steel. I was seriously mesmerized by the guy's perfect ass and calves and the girl's rock-hard boobs. If they're not having the hottest sex ever, there is something seriously wrong with them.
But of course they had to be douchebags. Nobody that beautiful can possibly be cool. I almost had a stroke when the guy would take a break from his weight lifting to walk up to the girl doing her elliptical and give her a little kiss. You've got to be fucking kidding me, right? I made a disgusted sound, but every sound coming out of my mouth probably sounds disgusting when I'm working out, and they didn't notice. And what were they watching on T.V. (cranked to an ear-splitting level, of course)? Animal Planet. Freaks. They thought it was just so cute and kept laughing and laughing at the antics of the little wolves, or whatever they were. And then when I looked over at the T.V. I saw a big wolf dragging an antelope carcass across the prairie.
Jesus. I made a disgusted sound. The beautiful people didn't notice.
Why am I so disgusted by people in love? Why do I want to run them down with my Camry? It's got to just be one of those things - like how you hate small children until you have one or how you want to gouge out your eyes every time you see a pair of Crocs until you actually wear them.
Just kidding. I will never wear a pair of Crocs.
All right - here is one more little random weekend story. P. had about ten gay boys over to his new condo on Saturday evening to check it out. I had met everybody there before except for one guy who showed up around 9:00. And I definitely thought he was the cutest. He was kind of a slender guy with black hair and funky glasses and an amazing smile. He also had a cool belt. We were talking for about a half hour and I really kind of started to have the feelings for him, and then I made the mistake of asking him what year he was born.
1987.
Yep – 1987.
In 1987 I was twelve.
I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can justify screwing around with someone who's barely legal…can I? And just to make it a little more difficult I found out from one of my buds that this kid thinks I'm cute. Blimey!
I can't do it. I just can't.
But, of course, now I'm obsessed with it.
posted by denverco at 12:00 PM
6 Comments:
You should totally check out 'The 4400'. I got sucked in to seasons one and two this weekend. Cute guys in it, too.
So that makes the kid 19? Yikes. Although I hooked up with an 18yr old once, but I was 24 at the time.
I too have become addicted to watching TV on DVD, so much so that there are only a few shows I go out of my watch on regular TV .. but you're right about the order of discs from Netflix .. nothing is more frustrating than getting them out of order! Right now I'm going through Veronica Mars
You must be talking about the type that has the latest butter crocs before everyone else and the compulsive parents who know where to buy crocs before they run out before they must get them for their valuable children.
i made out with and "did some stuff" in the bathroom at cobalt with a 21 year old the other weekend. of course i didn't ask him his age until we had played tonsil hockey on the dancefloor.
i am still enduring the chickenhawk jokes.
A) Congrats on the gym progress!
B) I'm also falling in love with TV shows on DVD. I actually pay so much more attention, and "get into the show" so much more without commercials. And it's great watching more than one episode at a time, if you want.
hey hey hey.. no leaving comments if you aren't blogging.
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