Monday's Man

I'm starting to see a trend in my blogging habits. It seems to only happen once a week. On Mondays. Today i am merely fulfilling my start-of-the-week obligation. The big news of the hour: the family dog, petey, has departed this earth at 17 years old. He is now in miniature dachshund heaven eating all of the M & Ms and shrimp tails he wants. Actually that was earth. My parents spoiled that dog. every night before bed my father and pete sat in the kitchen sharing candies or oreos. Tell me chocolate is bad for dogs...someone who hates dogs made that up so they wouldn't live too long.

Muse

There must be something i can write about to make up for my lack of entries last week. I'm thinking really hard about something humorous that i have witnessed or an entertaining hazard i've managed to subdue. I got nothin'.
Oh i quit the gym of doom. Yes i withdrew my membership from those money grabbing, weight lifting Nazis. I have thus joined a yuppie-esque gym in the city. I no longer look for food from 11-12. I now lift heavy (exaggeration) objects. I truly enjoy this EXCEPT for the super loud and trendy pillates/stair stepping/aerobics class in the studio adjoining the free weights section. I can't say i've ever taken the time to observe one of these classes but since this place is all glass and mirrors, i had no choice. It's like synchronized swimming without the water. Most of these people actually work out in their swim wear. One woman in particular really gets my adrenaline working because she screams words of encouragement to her fellow teammates. A loud WHOA! YEAH! COME ON LADIES!! ONE! (kick), TWO! (jab), THREE! (STEP IT NOW), FOUR! (higher). This is said with such force the windows shake. She frightens me. She could definitely kill me with her aerobic genius and she's not even the instructor. The instructor appears to me an overweight man in his 30s. NOT TRUE. He coaches these ladies to WORK IT as hard as they can, and they do. I think it’s just Billy Blanks who has gained weight. This terrifying ordeal lasts the entire hour. I leave as exhausted as they do, i just get so tense. The treadmills have fans on them, actual fans that make you feel like your running outside, but your not, your inside watching Days of our Lives while tufts are blown to and fro. Sometime i just stand on the treadmill and let the fans blow my hair around.

When your body craves beef and broccoli

I feel un-educated today. Not for any particular reason other than i don't do things i think smart people do. This tends to change daily as my opinion of intellect adapts to the people i come in contact with. Thus, i have devised a schedule of cerebral activities to make more wrinkles on my brain's surface (a smart person’s brain has an increased number of "wrinkles." These cracks and fissures increase the brain's total surface area making more space for knowledge to be stored). Yes, so, back to my habit forming education.
Wake up and read something. My original intent was Keats, Wordsworth, Wolffe, Chaucer, Victo Hugo...something. I've been settling for Wheats, Coco Wheats. I grew up on this stuff and love it. Not too many East coast people, or anyone, has ever heard of this altering morning experience. Terrific, not so educational but i make up for it later. The rest of the morning preparation lacks learning value which brings me to my morning commute.
Traffic. Every. Day. This is a good time to catch up on my reading. I figured i would start with my list of classic novelists and work my way through them while heading to the train station. This seemed like a good idea, if i'm not moving how dangerous could it really be? I see semi-truck drivers do it all the time. Surely i have the mental capacity to do 2 things at once. Wrong. I can do 2 things at the same time just not reading and driving in the same lane. Which brings me to the subway. This is an important time to study. People. I figure all great authors/speakers/poets/dog trainers have a fundamental understanding of how people work. I devote 30 minutes every day to studying those who commute side-by-side into the nation's capital. My only conclusion: Something terrible must happen to these people every day before they get onto the train. Miserable. No one smiles, no one laughs except for the drunk talking to seat. These people don't crack either. Try to make a little joke about the way the train operator is stopping or how the doors just closed on the midget's head and you would think you were talking about their own family members. I must admit i fall to this temperament every once in a while. An unexplainable force creates a scowl of hatred. To combat this terrible effect i have taken to entertaining those commuters, and myself, in my immediate area. It isn't going so well. Actually i have received a few stiff elbows from 3 old women. Three. One guy actually gave me $10 to switch trains. I may give this up for a few days, though i have money in my pockets my ribs hurt.
Work all day. That is an educational experience in and off itself.
By the time i return home i don't really feel like doing anything but i must. So i spend my time devoted to the intricacies of the computer world. Translation: i spend hours playing real-time strategy games. BUT if the united states ever needs to defend itself from Communist Russia's zeplins of terror owned and operated by subway commuters who didn't eat Coco wheats for breakfast, i have the perfect defense. We'll see who the President calls then, the smartest man in america.

There has to be some notice

Today was big item day on the subway. Apparently an anonymous memo was sent indicating to all people that today, Wednesday, was to be the day to transfer all large items on the underground train. So it was. My first encounter with big item day was while i waited for my train. I found a nice spot near a window and anxiously pulled out my new book and started to read. All of a sudden i was surrounded my an enormous amount of hair. I couldn't see the woman's torso or my book or anything else on the train for that matter. Actually if it wasn't for a sudden stop that moved the upper tuft i would have missed my station altogether. I cautiously exited the train, and her hair, distracted by the removal of long stringy stickiness from myself that i nearly toppled over my second big item of the day. Two young, college looking guys, one was pushing an empty wheel chair, the other was carrying 2-8 foot 2x4s wrapped in what appeared to be a mattress and several white curtains. Pour guys, they were negotiating their hospital equipment/decorations onto the train while the subway operating humorously, yet manically, opened and shut the doors on their possessions. I finally made it to the next level where everyone seemed to be carrying a large box on their right shoulder. I expertly dodged elbows and cardboard to finally emerge on the city streets. I took a good deep breath and choked on a 4 foot piece of hair that tasted like white rain.

Some things you just can't help

Now i have never been a McDonalds fan. Ever. Mostly for the typical reasons, i don't like deep fried burgers, buns, lettuce or ketchup. The slogan "Proudly serving 1.4 billion," or some astronomically grotesque figure, no pun intended, is the whip cream on the sundae for me. It turns out the new healthy menu could be as fattening as the Big Mac. Leave it to Micky Ds to create a salad as lethal as the super sized menu. I'm sure they will soon find a way to make celery as artery clogging as the 73 piece super deluxe nugget meal with a gallon of BBQ sauce.

Light at the end of the tunnel

I would approximate my near death experiences to be around 6. Not bad for my young age. This week i added 7. I work in a very old, historic landmark type building. Granite pillars, oil paintings, gilded molding it really is quite an eye pleaser. Among these antique surroundings are highly polished marble floors. Everyone in this building wears wooden soled shoes. At precisely 12:00 pm every day there is a stampede of government employees headed for the exits. This is a thunderous experience that shakes the very foundation of the building. Now this week we had a day of rain. Only one. But, rain+highly buffed/waxed floors=workman's compensation claims. On such a rainy morning i entered my building with the same pleasant disposition everyone goes to work with on Friday morning. Before i even got into the building i slipped down three stairs, nothing serious, but it was loud and it drew attention. Everyone has fallen like this, it usually ends with you standing in some incredibly awkward position, hands in the air and breathing heavily. And there i was. I finally made it into the building where i did not take into account the number of corners i had to maneuver to get to my office. 4 in all. 4 little turns. Wooden soles lathered with rain water in hallways recently waxed and wet from earlier co-workers...death. I knew i was in for surprise when rounding corner #1, my right heel completely escaped me and i caught myself loudly enough to look as though i was practicing lunges. OK, i thought, be careful i negotiated corner #2 quite nimbly if i do say so myself, little spin out. I was a little too confident with corner #3 and wiped out. I mean out, as in lying on the floor, on my back, in a suit, surrounded by deeply concerned important looking people holding back reams of laughter. I just laid there, denying any help offered trying to remember who i was. Eventually i crawled around corner #4 and made it into the office in time to avoid the lunch stampede. Needless to say i have adjusted my professional attire to accommodate rainy days. I now wear knee and elbow pads, wrist guards, and a matching helmet. Yes i now look like a professional roller blader, less grunge more Kenneth Cole.

Resolution

I am told by several of my faithful readers that there is little resolution in my work. The same material day after day after day, furnace, subway, work, gym, marsupials. Has my life been reduced to the cyclical stories of a retired veteran? Oh well, complaining can be pretty funny, so here i go.
Work has been quite interesting. Have you ever entered someone's office and read some clever office looking posting that said "A lack of planning on your part does not constitute and emergency on my part"? Well my most recent professional endeavor assists those who are in a constant state of emergency. Here is a similar scenario:

random employee: hi steve, what time are you working until? (note i receive this at 8:45am)
me: somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00
random: great i have a quick question, i'll call you in a few
*fast forward to me turning the lights off, phone rings...*
random: i'm glad i caught you, i need to leave for Africa in 20 minutes. Some really important elected/appointed official would like me to accompany them to assist with the giraffe relations, it's a tough job but someone has to do it.
me: ok, do you have passport or travel reservations?
random: no, but i have my Social Security Card and a driver's license. Won't that get me in? Oh and i would like to stop by Russia, China and Cuba for a Panda relations conference....

and so it goes, important people, doing important things for the betterment of society. i feel proud to be a civil service employee. I truly sleep better at night knowing i helped bring harmony to the global giraffe and panda communities.