The Guy I Hope Got Fired
I was watching the presidential press conference with one eye yesterday morning at work. My co-worker in the front area of the office (her desk is outside my office, anyway) was going on about how she hates that these conferences always interrupt her favorite morning television shows.
As press conferences tend to do, they wandered away from the initial topic (the new supreme court nominee) to other issues like the hurricane efforts and, as always, the War in Iraq. I do not have a problem with this. I feel like any jab we can get in at the President for all of his misguided policy decisions, the better. However, there was one question, asked by a really hard hitting reporter, obviously very interested in the Nation’s morale that just got my blood flowing:
“Mr. President, how do you feel about steroids and baseball?”
I don’t remember what the president said. I don’t care. Who let that moron in??? Really. There are people suffering, going without food and water, who have lost their children, and have nothing but the clothes on their backs wandering the roads of the US. There are men and women across the sea killing other men, women and children in a war that we were not asked to fight. There is a woman who’s job nomination has the potential to effect the lives of every American citizen by the decisions she makes until the day she dies. And this, this….MORON…wants to know about drugs and baseball?????
Can you imagine the talk around the water cooler at his office this morning?
“Hear about Jimmy? Yeah…drugs and baseball…I know….poor guy. Never had his head on strait, I always said…”
“Man, the opportunity….he blew it, I’ll tell you that much…”
“Hear they already fired him, his wife said she’s leaving him…doesn’t want to be married to the world’s biggest moron. No, she really said that. I heard he’s camped outside the stadium with a flag and a sign that says “Liberty for all Players.” Going on a hunger strike…I dunno. I don’t think the starvation is doing much for his brain cell count. And really, he needs ‘em all right now, doesn’t he?”
It makes me want to cry with shame. But at the same time, was this guy a sports reporter? Who let him in. No, really. That genius needs a raise. Here we are, at home or the office, really ticked because our favorite shows have been interrupted, swearing at the idiocy of the man we (or most of us) elected as her hems and haws and stumbles over words and this reporter in a single question manages to take all the heat off the President in one go. Whoever let him in, seriously, keep him around.
Diet and Exercise, Day 8
Body: In extreme amounts of pain
So my first week at the gym has been a good one, although full of disappointments.
First, I realized that I need to aim for an 11 minute mile, since I already can do a 12 minute mile. I didn’t think I would be able to. This means I will have to work much harder than I thought I would. I know that makes me sound like a slacker, but I am an asthmatic who used to smoke 4 packs a day. My lungs have taken a beating. I don’t want to die on a treadmill.
Second, I can’t leg press nearly what I used to. When I left my last gym I was at 190, which is not too shabby, if you as me. Now? 50. Not kidding. I wanted to cry.
On the other hand, I am able to do the bike and arm press whatever a lot better than I used to.
So I guess it’s a 50/50 thing.
I took my first body flow class last night, which is a combination of yoga, tai chi and pilates. I hurt in places I didn’t know I had, and I honestly thought that I had felt every muscle in my body last night. I am not ashamed though, because there were big, weight lifting men in my class and they were totally whipped afterwards too. No shame in a little pain. I am addicted though, I also managed to feel more relaxed than I ever have before. It’s a paradox, more relaxation and more (exercise inflicted) pain than I have ever felt all at once.
Well, I am off for a Tylenol and a glass of milk.
As my instructor would say:
The greatness in me acknowledges the greatness in you.