Saturday morning, the air is above freezing, coffee wafts through the kitchen as perfectly leavened batter sizzles on a hot griddle. There are few things that impress me as much as the magic of baking powder. I mean, just over a teaspoon of a white powdery substance makes gloopy circles of liquid puff up into moist sweet breakfast food. How cool is that? Very. Especially when these little warm circles are drizzled with real maple syrup, the kind that tastes like trees. Mmmmmm. Not to fucking bad for a Saturday, and all before noon.
My long-awaited road trip was tragically cancelled on Thursday afternoon, as I realized that a wall of ice and sleet was headed for the Blue Ridge, and it was already hailing in Blacksburg, my intended destination. Sadness, I know. On the up side, I got my work jumpstarted because I was planning to goof off with Mandi, so now I'm a little more on track.
It is also probably fortuitous that my car didn't die on the way down south, instead of sitting on Ardmore Ave. where it is at present. I'd made plans to join in the "Woe Is Me Fest 2004" with Kristin, AK, and Klu, without really having any woe to speak of (I assumed they'd allow me to join them anyway), but aquired the prerequisite woe rather quickly when I went out to start the car, only to be greeted by a sad grinding sound, and the "check engine" light. Fuck. The flaming blue chariot just couldn't take it any more. Maybe it was the HOUR LONG DRIVE to rent Dr. Zhivago in K.O.P. when the car subconsciously knew (but didn't feel like telling me) that they had it in the Campus Center.
So that might be on the agenda for today: attempt a restart, get a jump if necessary. Also on the agenda for today: being irritated at weight room etiquette.
Lately, I have been severely irritated with underclassmen's behavior in the subterranean miasma-filled concrete hole known as the Haverford College gym.
1. Don't be That Guy that's lifting weights clearly to heavy for you because you want to impress god knows who, so much so that you drop them on your own foot, or perilously close.
2. Don't be That Girl that does 30 minutes of cardio on the elliptical, followed by 30 minutes of cardio on the bike, followed 30 minutes of cardio on the treadmill. That's scary. Stop that.
3. Don't be That Guy that stands there in front of the free weights, either a). alone, or b). with a group of your little friends, and flexes for 10 minutes admiring your less-than-impressive biceps/pec's.
4. Don't be That Girl that shows up in a). a matching spandex workout outfit, makeup, and perfectly coiffed hair, or b). a teensy eensy sports bra top and running shorts that show the bottom of your ass, asking a dubiously cute fellow freshman/sophomore to be "your brand new personal trainer." Gag (okay, so that last one was just one specific incident, but don't get any ideas).
Please keep these friendly suggestions in mind when working out, and for god's sake, don't butt in line for the elliptical!