|
sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
|
Demon Karla? Meet Gym Dandy
Gym Dandy, Or, Don't You Ever Get Sick of Bitching About The Gym, Sublingua? So I haven't been feeling well today (nausea, stomach cramps, malaise in general). (Aisho unsympathetic post-puke karma? Jamaican food fiasco? What? What?) But off I went to the gym anyway. And today's bitch session? Guys who wear obnoxious cologne. Now, I'm not keen on men's cologne anyway. I think much of it smells like paint thinner or has all the appeal of the scent of urinal cakes (and don't ask how I gained that last bit of knowledge), or smells, as Sophistica (who has quite a well-developed nose for scents) once put it, like rotting plastic fruit. And I'd rather deal with a disgustingly natural BO scented guy at the gym than with some highly cologned gym dandy. Because the crowd I was working out near tonight? Eeuuch. And I thought I was nauseous before my workout? Anyway, cologne also bothers me because over the years, I've developed an allergy to a number of fragrances, which has sadly laid to waste my collection of perfumes (which includes a distressingly expensive and largely unused bottle of Chanel No. 5, purchased primarily because it was Marilyn Monroe's perfume and because Sophistica's Chanel No. 22--which I love the smell of and wanted to begin wearing when she got the hell out of Dodge to mosey on over to grad school--was discontinued). But, yeah, it sucks to smell some person who replaced the water in the soap and water equation and sit there wondering if I'm going to be sent over the edge. I end up having to pop Benadryl and pray, as I did a few nights ago when I picked up a freshly scented x. He climbed into my car and my skin started to itch, my gums swelled, and I knew I was going to have to start the evening with a nice dose of doze-inducing OTC meds. Which sucks, let me tell you. We're Bored With Your Bitching, Sublingua. Well, that's just too damn bad. I'm going to talk about Karla now anyway. Karla is this woman who I occassionally run into at the studio. She's about my age (a bit over a year older) and is the woman who told me that my gym progress had "inspired" her to go back to the gym to work out. (She also asked if I was interested in working out with her in the mornings, but then when I agreed--despite being largely annoyed by her--she never showed up.) Today I ran into her at the studio, and she came over while I was carving a bowl I had thrown yesterday. Carving takes a lot of patience which is why I do it. It's good practice for someone like me, who has been asking the Universe to teach me patience for years. Anyway, Karla comes over and starts babbling away at how bad the dating scene is in our little town. Now, I'll be the first to tell you that it's damn near impossible to get a date even if you are cute and cuddly and sweet and drunk off your ass and doused with expensive perfume. I know actual women with personalities and killer bods that couldn't get a date to save their lives. But Karla? She is none of these things. The last guy she dated resembled Lurch's older, overfed, albino brother. He also had the manners of an ogre. An ill-mannered ogre. But, man, I tell you, if he would have asked me to dinner, I probably would have gone. Anyway, so Karla can't get a date. Welcome to the fucking club. So I'm sitting there, obviously trying to focus on my work, and she keeps babbling away: "I can't get a date." (I get the point.) "I even had a friend take some good pictures of me so that I could post them on the internet." (Your picture on the internet? That sounds like a good idea. I'd leave the face off, though.) "I can't get a date." (I heard you the first time.) "Because the dating scene sucks." (Thanks, Sherlock.) "I read it on the internet." And I promptly carved a hole into my bowl. And I dropped my carving tool back into my toolbox and crushed the bowl into bits and threw it in the garbage can and packed up, saying, "I have to go. Have a good night." And I walked out. And I know I'm not conveying the annoyance that Karla is to me what with her annoying voice and her annoying personality and her annoying attempts to make friends with me when I find her so overwhelmingly annoying. I'm perfectly aware that I sound like a tired, spoiled child who can't do anything even so effective as be nice to someone who annoys the shit out of me. And I know all this and I'm still revealing what a crap person I am to you all online. I suck.
More lies:
|
|||||