Too much of a stretch

I did half of a Denise Austin yoga DVD. But after 30 minutes I couldn’t bear another second—not because the workout was too hard but she was driving me nuts! She is WAY too perky and perfect. For the whole time I stretched and strained—and I assume for the whole hour—she chatters encouragement as her perfectly tanned body goes through the contortions without a wince. That is so unreal to me. And the four people doing the routine with her are perfectly perfect in their smiles and comportment. The constant happy talk and perfectness finally got to me.

Note to the fitness industry: have a workout series with realistic chatter like “Now it’s time for salutation of the sun. Right, like that’s gonna happen anytime soon.” Or “Just Do it—You can get back to the ice cream later.” Or “Ouch, my bursitis is acting up. I’m gonna sit this one out.”

Missed the Target

Watch for a significant drop in Target sales. I’m never shopping there again. I’ve long felt that it was a hip, tolerable way to avoid shopping at the small-business-killing, employee-abusing, resource-guzzling Walmart. But after yesterday, I have to face reality: Target is just Walmart with catchier advertising. “Do you have plastic garden clogs?” I asked two young ladies working in the shoe area. “Might be over there,” one says waving at a section 50 yards away. Then again, it might rain in the Sahara today. I weigh my options: walk the 50 yards, suggest they get on their intercoms and ask someone hiding in back to check inventory, or shop online where there are no “sales” people. The decision makes itself. I head home never to return. . .or at least not as often.

Rant: Stressed Heels of a Stressful Heel

I love the irony of Tom De Lay’s heels forcing him off Dancing with the Stars. They apparently couldn’t stand the stress of his slithering on his feet instead of his belly. When snakes walk upright, these injuries happen. Thanks, heels, for putting The Hammer down and ending this sad hip-shaking, partner-fumbling, Liberace-pant-wearing debacle. But I really thought his performance would be much better, considering his fabulous Texas Two Stepping around the law. I could barely watch his tortured movements (as usual), peaking through fingers covering my eyes.  Tom Delay is the Anti Sexy. His hip swaying to Wild Thing was about as exciting as a Ukrainian mule pulling a cart full of potatoes.  The show is considered reality TV. And the reality is that our society seems to quickly forgive people who betray the public trust and waltz on to their next gig without bearing any disgrace. I vote to rename the genre “sad reality TV.”

Rant: You aren’t funny

I have an idea for the current warren of SNL writers: find another line of work. Apparently no one has been honest with you so far and told you you aren’t that funny. I will be that honest  person. I’ve given it a go for most of the last month – tuning in and, when things get a little slow – like with the first sketch – I say to myself to give it a chance. ENOUGH.  Here’re some career development ideas: go to comedy clubs or watch the Axis of Evil comedy tour to see what people are really laughing at.

Rant: Whine Whine Whine

Why didn’t I go to nursing school in my younger days? No, I had to wander sideways in to a “communications” career. What a joke. So many of my colleagues unemployed and minimal job listings, unless you consider marketing to be sending emails about changing the dimensions of your body parts. I feel whiny today. I don’t want to be in this position of hustling for a new job, which will require me to endlessly look at jobs postings online that I will be one of thousands applying for. Anyone need a writer of fabulous 100-word rants? Have your girl call me.

Rant: Big blowhard

It’s 8:03 a.m. and someone is already using one of those stupid gas-powered leaf blowers. Their uselessness, inefficiency, noise and waste of resources make them a definite symbol of, if not humanity’s failure, at least major stupidity.  What ever happened to sweeping up grass clippings or raking leaves into nice piles that one then put in the trashcan? No noise, no waste and you actually worked off a few calories. All this sound and fury signifies nothing but waste and the portent of hearing loss for the Hispanic yard SWAT team members. Can hear me now? Yeah, but not for much longer.

Rant: required reading

I think snopes.com should be required reading for anyone who gets an email account. All emailers should read the site & swear not to forward untrue crap that forces the receiver to 1. read it to begin with or 2. say to themselves before they forward it on to their entire contact list, “this sounds suspiciously RIDUCULOUS,I better check Snopes.” No, Starbucks did not refuse a soldier a coffee. Duh. This is the most ubiquitous corporation on the planet. They wouldn’t refuse The Unabomber. No, those are not photos of the Air France flight.  THINK before you click. Let’s keep email the bastion of truth it is meant to be

Rant: what will I do next week?

Unemployment Week 1: I dusted my ceiling fan blades, rearranged the cleansers underneath my sink and nearly torched my microwave making popcorn. Now what? It’s too hot to frolic outdoors. Oprah gets old. How much “Be your best self” messaging can one person take in a week? Plus she may be out of ideas—she interviewed Tonya Harding a few days ago. Despite my newfound wealth of free time, I still have more important things to do than listen to that whack job (literally speaking). Oprah, you’ve failed me. I’m off to collect the dust bunnies under the bed and alphabetize my CDs.

In Sickness and In Health

I voted for Obama, and I now vote to delay health care reform. I frankly don’t trust our federal gummint to craft a fair and functioning overhaul so quickly. It ain’t gonna happen. Although I’m not in D.C. hanging around any hallowed halls, I will bet my decimated 401k that the lobbyists are breathing hot and heavy down committee-member’s necks. Just like Bush’s Medicare drug reform, I have a sick feeling that this cure has some systemic symptoms of bad government for which I have a prescription: pass something that is healthy for the Treasury and call me in the morning.

The Heat is On

It has been too hot for too long now. My psyche cannot cool off. The migraines come regularly. My cognition is suffering from the cake-baking temperatures in my skull. It is distressing, depressing, stultifying. Yes, I know many in the world do not have central air like I do; many work outside during the day while I run from one air-conditioned pod to the next. I beg them to forgive my whining. It’s just that my Midwestern soul longs for seasons, for variety, for something that these Gulf Coast weather patterns can’t give these days: coolness and the thrill of time spent outdoors.