While drinking beers and shooting darts, the writer of doucheblogcycling posed this question, " Which would you rather watch, a WNBA playoff game or the NFL Pro Bowl ?". Now thats a hell of a question. That's the type of stuff Socrates would have come up with if he had been a sports fan...or a drunkard.
I spend a good portion of this mornings constitution trying to figure out if the group Lovin Spoonful got their name from a drug reference or a sex reference. I may have been wrong on both events according to this .
On Saturday I figured I'd give exercising another try and headed to the gym for a little run on the treadmill. I brought my earphones and was able to listen to the television programs that they had on the numerous televisions set up throughout the gym. I hate to run, but two of the channels were news programs covering both the Palastinian/Isreali situation at The Mount this weekend as well as an interesting piece on Iran, so I really got into the news and the time flew along.
Right at the end of my run, the news switched to the lighter side of things and they started talking about Valentines Day. The NewsBabe started telling the NewsDude about how she was looking forward to Valentines day because she had such a great marriage. She then started going on and on about the secrets as to why she had such a special marriage. I can't wait until the sex tapes of her husband in a three way wtih a playboy playmate and a cocker spaniel hit the internet. Anyway, on the heels of the serious and sad subject matter they had just covered, her enthusiasm for her husband and her marriage came across as smarmy, arrogant, and, frankly, contrived.
My reaction to this was typically expressive. I rolled my eyes, started making the jerking-off gesture with my hand, and made a rasberry/farty noise with my tongue
It then occured to me that not everyone was watching what I was watching or listening to what I was listening to or hand any frame of reference to what I was doing or why....especially the cute woman jogging shoulder to shoulder with me on the adjoining treadmill. I did a quick assessment and realized that since she was right next to me, it was unlikely that she could see what I had done with me hand...whew. Uh-oh..that might be worse....if she heard the farty noise without the other stuff she might think that I actually...oh-no...passed gas right there on the treadmill. Nah, she didn't hear anything...everything is cool...I'm just bring paranoid...
Then she stopped, turned off the treadmill, and without giving me a glance quickly gathered up her stuff and walked off.