I started on my genre analysis paper, and think it's off to a pretty decent start. I don't anticipate requesting an extension, but it's nice to know it's available if I get blocked. Right now, my grandiose plans include having it done by Monday night, the latest.
I called Alpine to make sure my skis were ready, and went to pick them up. Yay, it looks like I'll get one more season's worth out of them. Let's hope they don't crack or fall apart on the slopes.
From there, on the way to Carmichael to work out, I checked in with Joe and Richard to see if they might be up for a walk around Lake Johnson instead. They were putting up a mini-fence behind Joe's apartment, and said, "Let us call you back in about a half hour. We should be done."
I dropped by home, had some yogurt, and awaited their call, which came about 20 minutes later. "Why don't you go ahead without us. We're still working on the fence."
I went to Carmichael instead of the lake. I did 30 minutes on the elliptical machine for a 400-calorie burn. Shortly after I started, this dork signed up for the machine to my left, and on the board, by his name wrote, "Me," and by the time wrote, "Now." Dork.
I don't really care what his name is, but the communicative purpose (God, I sound like Swales) of the time is to let people who want to use the machine next know when you'll be finished. The only thing stupider than "now" is when people put, "30 Minutes," which is a lot of times. How does this help anyone? 30 minutes from when? Is it so hard to write, "3:30 - 4:00"?
Not two minutes after he started, three people came up to him within two minutes and said, "How much longer will you be?"
I wanted to turn to him and do the Dr. Phil thing to him, "So how's that 'now' working for you?"
Though Robert said, "He probably did it for the attention, so it was working for him." Good point. Guess he had his own communicative purpose. Bust my bitter discourse community.
I walked 13 laps around the track for a total of two miles. This one hot guy was running while I was walking, and every time he passed me I looked at the stubble on the side of his face and the hair on the back of his upper legs, and thought about rubbing my hand right up there, and onto his ass.
I thought, "I wonder if a straight guy would be thinking that about a hot girl that kept cutting back in front of him like that, and I wonder if the things that happen, chemically, to my body when thinking about it -- if it's the same feelings I would have for a woman if I were straight." Probably not. <sarcasm>I'm sure I'd be thinking about her personality.</sarcasm> Men are pigs -- gay, straight, or bi.
Sometimes there is just too much time to think while doing those laps. I really should get myself a CD player or an MP3 player to distract myself from myself.
Robert arrived at about 5:30. We had dinner. I had a salad and the new fish entree, which Robert said smelled very fishy. I couldn't smell it. And I couldn't taste it either, so all I know about it is that the texture of it in my mouth was just fine. I also had a salad I couldn't taste.
He had a salad, too, and a CPK Thai Chicken pizza, which I definitely would have had a bite of if I could have tasted it, but since I couldn't, didn't waste the calories. How noble of me.
We got to dancing at about 8:30, and it turned out to be a fun, fun night. We danced until about 11, I guess, and then it turned into "Flashlight Night" in the bar. Most of the lights were turned off, and people were given those little tubes filled with liquid light in them to have and to hold till them they did part.
At about midnight we walked to CCs, bought a hot dog from the street vendor before we went in, and then met Joe and Richard inside the bar. We spent a little time in the piano bar, during which time, at one point, I yelled my request, "O! Holy Night." Bless my drunk mess.
I don't know what time we left there, but we went to IHOP with Richard and Joe, except that when we got there, only Joe came in. Richard had had just a little too much to drink, and stayed in the car, insisting that Joe go in. He had a cup of coffee with us and left. Robert and I each ordered the Pigs in a Blanket. I ate two of mine, and boxed the other two.
At the table next to us, sat three black girls and one black guy. The girls were, let's just call them full-figured, and at various times broke out into gospel songs. I'm not sure if they were trying to save us or entertain us, but they certainly did the latter.