Totally Unauthorized

A side of the film industry most people never see.

Friday Photo

Wait.. What?

Never one to pass up an opportunity to make a bawdy joke in public, I just had to grab a can of this stuff when I saw it  on the shelf at the pet store. No word yet on if the cat likes to eat beaver, since I haven’t opened it.

Seriously, though: Is there some pet food factory somewhere deep in the heartland that’s sending out rednecks with rifles in search of cute fuzzy varmints so yuppies can feed their pets something new and different?

What’s next? Pet food made of squirrel?

Filed under: Non-Work, Off-Topic, Photos

Tiptoeing into the realm of the overachievers

Since I’ve not been able to stay in the sun for any length of time, but I miss riding the bike, I decided to take my first ever spinning class at the gym.

Spinning classes are not normally something that’s very interesting to me – a room full of sweaty people, pedaling to nowhere accompanied by the dulcet tones of something insipid riding the crest of the top 40 playlist.

But I’ve been hearing for years about what a great workout it is.

So I took a deep breath, ventured into a small, dark, smelly room which was surprisingly devoid of any air conditioning vents or fans and had to ask the super nice instructor for help adjusting my fake bike (which, of course, isn’t set the way a real bike would be).  When the class finally started and people began to sweat, the layers came off and that’s when I looked around and knew that I was in over my head.

Although I’m not going to be featured on a magazine cover any time soon, I’m not an unfit person. I can’t squeeze into the clothes I wore in high school (hey, I was about the size of a string bean), but I still don’t sag or bag much. However, I was by far the flabbiest person in the class. I’m talking unbelievably ripped people here. People that I didn’t even know existed outside of action movies.

The difference between spinning classes and riding a bike on the street is that when I’m actually out riding the bike, I get occasional breaks. I have to stop at lights, pull over to let cars pass on narrow roads, etc..

I’m not used to cranking as hard as I can for an hour without stopping. I start gasping for air when my heart rate gets up into the high 160’s. When it gets much faster than that I start really wishing I’d drop dead just to spare me the effort of trying to stay conscious – but while I struggled to breathe most of the people in the class were not only barely sweating, they were multitasking while they rode. They were pedaling like hell while texting, gossiping, reading Proust, and I think one woman in the back was knitting an insanely complicated sweater while she pumped it up.

I would have left early, but the instructor, despite pedaling so fast her legs were a blur, still had enough lung capacity to relentlessly mock anyone who dared to leave early.

Also, by the end of the class none of the women sweated off any of their fake tans or top-drawer makeup, while I looked like I’d just stepped out of the shower and could barely walk. The instructor actually came over to ask if I was okay.

As I dragged myself  out the door with my arms, wondering how the hell I was going to get home, the instructor raised her perfectly sculpted arm, waved at me and warbled “Good job! See you next week!”

Maybe.  Just maybe.

Filed under: life in LA, mishaps, Non-Work, Off-Topic, rants

Still alive. Still tired.

So far, this period of unemployment isn’t really producing anything worth mentioning.

Get up, try to organize closets for a while, go to gym, come home, eat dinner, fall asleep in front of the TV. I’ve not had to purchase any new shelving units, so there haven’t been any screaming fits or murderous rages. Yet.

The garden’s overproduced fava beans, so I’ve been giving those away by the fistful to those who will take them. I’m always amazed at how afraid some people are of new foods (“What are they?” “Fava beans. You have to shell them, but they’re really good.” Pause “Um.. ewwww.”), even when it’s being offered for free. Oh, well.

The beans are almost done (they don’t like the heat), and I’ll be putting in tomatoes very soon, along with my standard summer garden staples – cucumbers, carrots, squash (I usually just pull the blossoms off so I never get any squash, which is fine with me), and the like.

I’ve been trying to do four car-free days a week, which actually isn’t that hard since I don’t really have anywhere to go – but for the next couple of weeks, I’m going to have to drive more since I’m doing a series of microdermabrasion ‘treatments’ to try to reduce the appearance of the sun damage on my face (I know, I know, but it’s gotten so bad even I can’t stand it anymore), so I have to stay inside during the day.

It’s kind of making me crazy – I’m not used to staying inside as I’m not a particularly sedentary person. Each ‘treatment’ is on Monday, so I’ll have to stay in for most of the week. I can go out, but I have to go to such insane lengths to keep the sun off my face that more people than usual are pointing and laughing as I walk by, so I’ll just wait it out.

Hopefully, it’ll actually work, although I did get a lecture from the dermatologist about staying out of the sun.

She was unable to answer my question about why someone can’t invent a sunblock that actually blocks the sun so I don’t have to hide in my house like some kind of emo teenage vampire.

I got up this morning at the crack of dawn (actually a little before dawn) and got in about half of my normal bike ride before I had to go back inside.

I’ll be able to go back in the pool (the indoor one) tomorrow, which will be sweet. Then, I can live like a normal person (albeit with super heavy sunblock) until Monday, when I have to go back to get my face scraped again.

Filed under: Non-Work

May 2010

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"If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better." -Anne Lamott

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