I mean, seriously, check out that last dude(tte), Rider on Horse. That is SWEET. Really, check again, closer in:
Because yeah, that's all we saw. Toyed around with the idea of hitting a movie instead, but ended up putting away clothes in the bedroom instead. Sigh...
The day was not a total waste, though. Beck and I joined the masses of beautiful Phoenix people and joined the Bally's gym around the corner* from us. Ah, Bally's - you know their silver sports-bra centered New Year's Day ads, their incessant promises that if you join now, they will politely waive the ridiculous 100 dollar sign up fee. It's exercise as the corporate experience, complete with the requisite bureaucracy - signing up for the membership was itself a half hour process, despite the fact that there was no "sales" process involved (Beck and I already wanted to join) AND we skipped the tour (that's a weight machine. And there's another one. And another. And now, here's a treadmill. And another. And another. Etc.). On the interminable plus side, we learned that Beck's birthday is "cute," she has a "cute" driver's license and she takes great pictures. Probability that the Bally's sales lady was hitting on my wife with me standing right there: 67.3%. Of course, they're probably told to do that in the Executive sales bible over there, which also apparently specifies the manner in which they are supposed to staple our receipts to our application ("They are very particular about that" the sales lady said cautiously, as though Bally's were the real-world embodiment of Wolfram and Hart. We turned down the personal training sessions accordingly, not wanting to get blood-sucked if we didn't meet our personal goal or something). We eventually were handed our membership cards, and now can join the bodybuilders and ultra buff soccer moms at our leisure. Which is cool, to be honest; it's a nice place, and it's only $24 per month,cancel-able at any point, which is even better than the $35 per month we paid at Omega in Grafton and comes with, gasp, showers (though no towels). The probability of seeing people workout in jeans and construction hats has been replaced with ill-advised Spandex, though, so not everything came up roses. Anyhoo, mission accomplished, and beck and I now have one hurdle to our inevitable flabbiness firmly in place.
Two more things about Bally's - the sales lady did not use an office chair, but instead used a giant abs ball as her chair. I actually think this is an awesome idea, and will implement it soon (soon, of course, being some time after I get a desk and drop the Schroeder-on-piano pose I am currently using to blog - my back pain is for your pleasure!). Second, at one point the sales lady, probably on some kind of meta-commission scam, asked us if we had anyone we could refer to the gym. Beck and I laughed, because we only know two people in Phoenix, and they are more in the sit and be fit realm of the world (No offense, D & C, but as little as Beck and I belong in a Bally's, you push that envelope farther). So we told the lady no, that the only people who were in Phoenix weren't really "work out" types, and she said something almost exactly like "Well, it's okay, we all have friends like that." With this hush-hush tone, like Dan and Christina were our gay alcoholic cousins we would rather not mention at familial meals. Huh? No, actually, Bally soul-less lady, some people just don't do this. It's okay, really. At which point I think we had violated one of her cyborgian Prime Directives, and her head exploded.
Which reminds me, side tangent style, that I saw a commercial for a home air filter that through crazy nightmarish sci-fi-graphics of bacteria, parasites and dust mites and informed me that my current air filter was only cutting out 40% of these bugs, but theirs would cut out 90%. And... so what? What does that accomplish, other than creating higher rates of asthma and allergies? Was I suffering at the malicious hands of unseen foes before this commercial? F U, crazy ass air filter marketing team!!! My dog hair and dust mite dropping drenched air is doing me just fine, thanks.
* - "Around the corner" if you run in normal, straight lines. I ran there using the Green Belt this morning and it was quite a jaunt... so for now, we'll be cutting across the Home Depot parking lot. NOT doing this (Bally's is at the upside down U just after mile 2... ugh):
So the day wasn't completely lost, and I even got to settle in and watch the Yawn Run Derby won by Rynomite Sandwich (my fantasy baseball team) All-Star Vlad "The Impaler" Guerrero. The real deal, this time it counts, is tonight, so I'll be catching that at the ultra-inconvenient 5 o'clock start time. For the Record, I am rooting for the NATIONAL LEAGUE, where they still play actual baseball (I politely refer you to Rule 1.01). Even if the Cubs are terrible and the Diamondbacks started sucking precisely when I crossed the border into this Daylight Savings-less state, I still have my irrational loyalties. All of this, natch, after the poor Wriglinator makes a trip to the vet... the vet which is Beck!!! I think this constitues a momentous occasion. Dog biscuits all around. More later (and don't worry, I am still going to catch up on that "I owe you all" checklist).
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