...where fashion fits...

(December 13, 2006)

I'm sittin' here thinking about what to write. I have The Noise Board open in one window and Diaryland open in another, and I've got BBC on NPR. The weirdest threads are in the Board tonight, and the BBC is airing a really bizarre report on the Australian outback with a woman on the phone and...something about either a cricket match or crickets the insect...with this intense Aussie accent, I dunno what the fuck...oh she just said 'what a wicket.' So it's cricket with the wickets, not Jiminy Cricket. Bizarre information coming at me. Too much information.

Oh, if you care about Boston rock at all, vote in the poll: Noise Poll. I'm in it for 'Personality' and 'Writer.' I don't belong in 'Writer' as I'm not doing a lot in The Noise anymore, and also, I shouldn't be on that list when Joan Anderman isn't. Brett Milano should win, he is the best writer in town. DAMN I should have gone to his party on Saturday. Why'd I just stay home like a lump? He comes to MY stuff. I am SO LAME.

(NPR reporter just said, "Ethnic Turks haven't integrated well here in Berlin, that's why they're buying Turkish hand cream." I didn't know there was a big Turkish community in Berlin. Interesting. German Turks.)

So I couldn't do 30 minutes on the elliptical machine tonight. Tomorrow I'm going to try going in the morning instead. See if that makes a difference. My two fucking favorite things: morning, and exercise. FUCK. FUCK

Why is it called an elliptical anyway? I mean, "treadmill" makes sense. Tread. Mill. But I only ever knew elliptical to mean either egg-shaped or the terrible little "dot dot dot" punctuation that I use...way...too...frequently...in my writing. So how come the workout machine is an elliptical? It must be the shape your stride defines as you work the pedals on the thing. Or maybe it's like, if you are so fat you're egg-shaped, you better start using this machine over here because anything else in this gym will kill you. No no NO, step AWAY from the treadmill, Shamu...this...is...your...machine.

Tonight I got one with a TV right on it. I hadn't used one of those yet, I usually get one in back facing the mirror. Which is, believe me, really bad. But I don't know about the TV-watching. There's a remote on the...dash? What do you call the control panel on one of those. Anyway I switched to the news and in the middle of my workout I saw a news report about Peter Boyle, who died today. I don't have headphones so there was no sound, so I didn't hear how he died. At that moment I was actively wondering if it was from trying to read a reporter's lips while using an elliptical machine and simultaneously wondering why it's called that.

I liked Peter Boyle.

PUTTIN' ON THE RIIIITZ!