Shugah shugah how’d you get so fly?

So I took a moment at work today to visit a couple blogs and was quickly reminded of one of the reasons I first started reading them: Insights into complete strangers minds and lives, even if completley mundane. So excuse me while I spill my evening onto this blog. (Bet you’re already yawning from reading that intro, heh). Read on if you’re extremely bored.

At the gym:

Man, half the people here at the gym (well, at least half the women) must just be here to show off their bodies. Not that I mind the eye candy, but really—you’re already super skinny. Is it really necessary to wear that little clothing to work out? Is it really necessary to work out? Try eating some food!

Leaving the gym:

I turn south out of the gym parking lot onto 700 E. and get in the left lane, since the right lane ends shortly after crossing the next intersection. Of course the light turns red and I’m stopped at the intersection, waiting to go through, when this kid pulls up next to me in the right lane in this excessively large and jacked up truck. Obviously compensating for something, this kid. But I don’t really give it a second thought until the light turns green. As I accelerate I notice he’s trying to get ahead of me. The primal being in me of course says “uh-uh” and hits the gas. No way some truck is acing out the 2002 sloanie-mobile. So I race the kid and of course beat him and he’s forced to merge left behind me. I was only doing 65 in a 40 zone. I laugh from the belly at this idiot.

Just before the next intersection the right lane reappears and he of course gets in it. After a moment I casually turn my head to look up at the kid and he’s turned his body fully in my direction showing me a dollar bill of some sort and taunting me like he wants to bet money he can beat me this time around. I again laugh at him and turn to face the light.

It turns green and I wait a moment before accelerating. He does the same, like he really wants to race. Of course, I’ve had my fun and the satisfaction of smoking him, so I just casually accelerate, and he’s off. I let him just fly away and laugh again because I KNOW it’s not fun when someone lets you win, heh.

Does Marie Osmond know how big of an idiot she is?

I’m continuing on my way to Costco. My CD player has crapped out on me in my car (thank you Bose for making such a sucky head unit) so I was relegated to the radio. All the usual trendy stations were as usual on never-ending commercial breaks. My channel flipping takes me to 98.7, playing “yesterday’s hits”. This time in particular a Back Street Boys song. Oh well. The song ends, and Marie comes on and starts blowing smoke. “Well, that’s a depressing song if you think about it. I mean really, ‘Show me the meaning of being lonely’? What is THAT all about?”. She begins to try to analyze this meaningless pop song. “I mean I’ve heard a million songs, but what’s the deal with this song?”, as she invites her listeners to call in if they can explain it to her. Of course then she throws out a statistic that 1 in 4 adults is lonely to try to further the analysis before going to commercial break. I gather from this that a) she’s an idiot and b) she must just like to hear herself talk. Silly Marie.

Costco:

They don’t have any Clementines. Damage. So I buy a bag of apples and stop to get a hot dog for dinner. I sink to an all-time low and get diet coke for my drink, since you automatically get a drink with the hot dog. Hey, it’s not bad if you just keep swallowing. But if you stop you get that nastiness that is diet soda. Good enough to wash down the hot dog. Of course I more than made up for the diet drink’s lack of calories by eating a cinnamon and sugar-covered pretzel. Mmm… just like a giant piece of cinnamon toast, only better. And probably much worse for you, heh. Baked goods are the main reason why Costco is so evil. Those double chocolate muffins I love so much? 690 calories per muffin. Ouch. Heaven knows how many that pretzel had, but hey– $1 for a big huge tasty cinnamon and sugar pretzel… can’t beat it.

Besides, Costco is an interesting place to people-watch. Like the husband who tries to ignore the fact that his wife is walking over to look at the Nissan Murano that’s on display there. After several feet he stops and pretends to wait patiently as his wife inspects the car. He’s really thinking “geez now she’s gonna harass me about getting a new car and I’m the one who’ll be footing the bill. Yay. It’s not like we didn’t just spend a couple hundred bucks on nothing at Costco.”

A PhD in BS

So I pull out of Costco and the entertainment just gets better on 98.7. By now the Dream Doctor is on analyzing someone’s dream. Some chick says she has had this recurring dream of a cowboy in a hat looking at her or something. Is the cowboy good looking? Yes. Do you like cowboys? I’m not generally attracted to cowboys. Do you like country music? Yes I do. When did the dream start? Two weeks ago. Did you meet any new men about that same time? Yes I did, this guy Steve (or something). Are you attracted to him? Yes. Is he a cowboy? No. Does he like country music? Yes. Well there you go. This guy is your new love interest. But he’s not a cowboy. Well silly he only looks like a cowboy in your dream because he likes country music which obviously equates to cowboys. Oh, ok. Keep your eye on him.

Oh Dream Doctor, why can’t you explain my dreams? Probably because they mean NOTHING, heh. By now I’m being amused by some sappy Celine Dion song when I pull up behind a black SUV at a 4 way stop. Several cars go from the other directions, yet the black SUV stays put. Other cars keep going because BBSUV isn’t moving. So I pull into the right turn lane, go through the intersection and give her a look like “what the?” Seriously. If you’re lost, pull over. If your car is having problems, put on your hazards so people can avoid waiting forever behind you. By all means please just don’t sit there and hold up traffic like an incompetent driver.

But since I’m in a pretty laid-back mood I’m only slightly annoyed as I drive up the hill. Celine Dion is still amusing me as the sun is going down and I quickly forget the weirdo in the big black SUV.

I take a more round-about way to get home because I’m feeling relaxed and don’t really want to deal with major intersections at this point. Celine stops singing. Commercial break. Change the station to the next frequency down—a rap and hip-hop station.

Shugah shugah how’d you get so fly?