The Gym!

Today, because of the fact that I am a teenage girl and therefore completely uncomfortable with my body, I went to the gym.

First off, purely because I'm an idiot, I forgot my ID. I hate to wait in this really long line for a temporary ID (and the clerk was a guy who already despises me), and encountered several odd people while waiting.

• An extremely over peppy twenty-something year old, who seemed completely clueless about the gym (she was just signing up) , but excited about just about everything the clerk explained. She then had to take her ID picture, proceeding to literally skip (which looks kinda weird on old people) over to the chair and take a picture that looked a little something like this: 
• Then, there was a middle-aged woman, decked out in a snobbish looking suit, with a bluetooth hanging out of her eye, yapping on about some issue that was of the utmost importance at the moment. As soon as she saw the vast amount of people in front of her, she scaddalded out of the tiny office. 
• There were three people in the corner, a mother, and two daughters. The mother was one of those I-get-really-passionate-about-every-little-thing mothers, and was complaining about how she needed to see a specific person in the office, because she had already explained her daughter's issues to her (at this point all the blood in her daughter's body rushed to her cheeks, as she slunk into a corner), and thus, in the process, explained all her issues to this clerk too. 
• There was another man, who looked around forty. He wore a hat that was much too ghetto for his age, and stood uncomfortably close to me, so I could smell a faint hint of alcohol masked with spearmint gum when he exhaled. He brushed my arm slightly and leaned even closer to me to say in a slightly croaky, slurred voice, "I'd be fuckin' pissed if I hadda wait in this line and they dint have my ID." I yanked myself away and fake-giggled nervously. "Umm, yeah, but I'm just getting a temporary ID." Thankfully, then, I was able to get my ID from the clerk, so I could avoid inhaling his minty-beer breath anymore. 

I'm not gonna bore you with details of my gruesome workout, where I sweated a whole bunch and hyperventilated a little. The thing about the gym though, is no matter how boring your workout is, you always have 1) Workout Music, which is always the best, and 2) A shitload of people, with a shitload of interesting stories, surrounding you.

The thing that really amazed me was the amount of beautiful, skinny, people overworking out. I understand that it's important to stay fit, but they looked like they were just slowly rotting themselves away on the StairMaster, and it got me thinking. I'm kind of overweight, and that along with my natural self-deprecating thoughts drives me to the gym. I don't wanna get even fatter, and be stuck like that for my entire adult life. But these people are honestly fine. Some could even afford to gain weight! And then, there are people who are truly unhealthy, sitting on their ass because they're too afraid, or not motivated enough to get healthy. 

I guess I always thought of the fat rolls I'm constantly carrying around as a curse, a punishment for all the times I've gone over the serving size.But to some people, being fat (I'm fat, I use this term rather affectionately), as a shield. If you can live a safe life in a little bubble of brownies and soda, never having to talk to anyone or show off your body in something tight-fitting or expose yourself to the world around you, you can't get hurt. 

All these skinny people are just here to maintain their awesome physique, but I guess I'm here to actually change something. And, with Sparkle by the Candy Butchers blaring in my ears, I realized that I'm shedding the fat rolls I've been living under for my entire life, in hopes of revealing something halfway decent. 

Or maybe I'm just sweating. 

Song of the Day: Sparkle, by the Candy Butchers. 

Lesson of the Day: Sometimes you have to watch other people to figure out what you're doing with your life. 

Fuck You, World

I had a pretty terrible day today. When I got home, I tried to cleverly alert people to my sadness on Facebook, without blatantly writing, "I AM A SAD PERSON D':" as my status (I've always hated those statuses, who cares?!), so instead, I searched "Bad Day Songs" on Google, thinking that something would have to show my sadness without being overly obnoxious. Of course, when I hit search, there is actually a song called Bad Day. Way to make me feel like an even bigger idiot, Google.

Why was my day absolutely awful, you ask? (You're prolly not asking, but I desperately need to complain, so...)

7:05- I woke up by my alarm. Sleepy Anna, who is a completely different person/scary-monster-of-time-destruction, did not press snooze, like Normal Anna would. Sleepy Anna must ruin my day, and force me to rush my oh-so-precious time before I go to the hellhole.
7:52- Normal Anna has seemingly defeated the beast that is Sleepy Anna, and flips the fuck out. I ninja hop out of my bed, catapulting my blanket and beloved stuffed puppy to the ground. I throw on a Back to the Future Shirt, some ill-fitting jeans, half-heartedly brush my teeth, don't even bother with my disgustingly unwashed (I feel awful if it's not washed every morning) hair, and run out of the house like a madwoman.
8:07- I'm in the train station! But, of course, I hear a train coming in as I'm buying my ticket, (I lost my student one, which gives me free rides,along with my wallet on Friday). I keep tapping the wrong buttons, because my fingers are fat and don't function normally. As soon as I swipe in and get on to the platform (it's like 8:15 now), my train, (which comes about every twenty minutes), LEAVES.
8:39- I'm kinda late, which is really unfortunate, because I'll be even later since I lost my wallet (with my ID), meaning I can't just swipe in. I go to the really scary security guard, who handles all the delinquents who lost their things, and tell her my student ID number. As soon as my picture shows up on the computer, she cringes, scowls, and exclaims, "GIIIRL, THAT IS THE UGLIEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN!" I'm a little thrown off, but I'm scared of her, so I go, "Yeah, it is pretty bad." She shakes her head (which jiggles all of her neckfat and chins), and cries, "NO GIRL. THAT LITERALLY HURTS MY EYES. IT IS DISGUSTING. RETAKE THAT." In her defense, I do look totally stoned and awful in my ID picture, but really. Thank you for making me feel so beautiful, security guard.
8:43- In the elevator as school, which around 45 kids are crammed into, and the late bell rings, making me completely UNSAVED by the bell. Christ. When I get into French, my teacher kinda glares at me in this "I-hate-you-and-everything-you-stand-for" way, but doesn't comment. But, of course, I sit all the way in the back, and have to wiggle my ass and freshmen backpack through seats, until I finally sit down. My joyful moment of sitting is interrupted, however, by a shrill, teacher voice saying, "You know, we take punctuality very important, here!"

You have got to be shitting me. I'm like fucking three minutes late, for like the third time this year, and you're scolding me?! There are chicks who are late every fucking day! Where is their scolding??!!

11:05- Math. Joy. I've been sucking at Math every since preschool, when they told me I couldn't count on my fingers for everything. And, of course, this year, I get stuck with the geometry teacher who, well, doesn't teach. He'll draw a fucking circle on the board, then, someone will ask a question about the overly hard HW (which is honestly only hard because he's not teaching), and he starts rambling on about the "flow of logic." What is this flow of logic you speak of?! Can I please learn how to prove something so I don't fail the state test?! Then, he'll call on me, to answer a question on the homework, and I'll be like: 

which, in my opinion, is pretty clearly the don't-call-on-me-I-am-confused face. He calls on me, and someone who is amazingly naturally mathtastic behind me tells me the answer. Just when I thought I was saved, he tells me to explain! I go into neurotic freak out mode, and sputter out random things like, "It'sitbecausethepythagoerumtheoremwiththeFibonnaciSequenceandtheproofs!" The entire class looks at me like I am a dancing hippo bleeding hot pink, and starts laughing hysterically. I rush out of the classroom when the bell rings, thinking that my day could get no worse. But who's always wrong?

11:45- Since I lost my student ticket, I had to go to the transportation office to get a new one. As soon as I arrived, three seniors skipped me in line. I, of course, would never confront a senior, so I had to wait there for an extra twenty minutes. When I stepped in, an old lady interrogated me as to how I had lost it, made me memorize instructions for keeping it in my bag, and screamed at me when I showed her my apparently inappropriate wallet. Also, some of the shit she said was just ridiculous. NO, the waves from my cellphone don't interfere with the ones from my ticket, deactivating it. If you think that, you belong in the 80's, when people thought even leg warmers were cool. After sitting through thirty minutes of old woman lecturing, I finally got my new metro card, and was able to put it in my seemingly inappropriate wallet, and eat a lunch that looked like regurgitated poop.

2:00- Fucking Physics. It's just boring. No one cares about electrostatic force. It's just about the most boring thing ever, besides being in geometry. 

6:00- I leave my house, grab my phone, keys, and wallet (with my new ticket in it), as I go to the gym. When I'm like 10 blocks away from my house, I have a heart attack, realizing I lost my fucking wallet. 

Again. I'm already late, but whatever, because the idea of losing another ticket and getting another lecture kills me. I frantically run up and down the streets, resembling a bear mother who just ate her cub. 

But no luck. I go back to the gym, admitting defeat. 

10:00- I really hope tomorrow's better. I feel like whenever something good happens, something completely awful has to happen in return, ruining the rest of the day for me. This day, however, nothing good happened. 

World, you fucking hate me, don't you? 

Lesson of the Day: Never suffer through this shit again. Too bad I'll have to sit through another lecture tomorrow. Nice.

Song of the Day: Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want- The Smiths

Awkward White Girl Dances Moves

A couple weeks ago, I was invited to an event called, Fre$hman Dance: What Culd B Da Best Nite of Ur Fre$h Year". I immediately declined, knowing that by going, I would be subjecting myself to utter humiliation and possibly the worst "Nite of My Fre$h Year".

But, because I am currently hanging out with kids who have wildly different interests than me, I got dragged into going. We were all under the impression that it was going to be completely lame, and I was under the impression that my friends would realize it sucked within about five minutes, setting me free from this social disaster's clutches extremely quickly.

However, when we got in like for tickets, my dreams of ever getting out were crushed, as I saw about 300 other freshmen lined up, many of which my friends recognized. It would take at least an hour for my friends to dance with each of these eager freshmen! Luckily, I spotted a friend who looked extremely unhappy to be there (she was also dragged by her dancerific friends), and left my other friends (who were chatting about how to dougie), to stand in line with her. We complained about how lame this shit was, while we attempted to stuff our overly large freshmen backpacks into the garbages provided.

Upon entering the dance, my eyes were shocked by the strobes flashing obnoxiously (thank god I'm not epileptic!), the strange neon colored shapes being projected on to the walls, and the horrifyingly loud and awful music, courtesy of an old DJ who looked like he might drop dead any second. We were given a sheet of paper with a name of a person who was also at the dance, who we needed to find, a failed attempt at making the awkward freshmen (excuse me, fre$hmen) socialize. My mission was to find a Kevin L., which is not really hard in a school where 60% of the population is asian. After interrogating a few asian dudes, I found   a Kevin Lou. At this point, no one had started dancing, they just shouted over ridiculously loud music in their little friend groups.

It all changed by one song. When the elderly DJ played the Cha Cha Slide, a song that has haunted me since we were forced to dance it in 5th grade, played, the formerly awkward freshmen all began dancing, leaving me, my other fail-dancer friend, and a few other lonely kids standing up against the wall, ready to kill ourselves. I was then bombarded by 4 dancetastic friends, two behind me, and one on each arm, who kidnapped me and placed me into the uncomfortably close throng of  dancing teenagers. I did obey the song, sliding to the left, and to the right at the appropriate times. However, when it came to "how long can you go", I didn't do the whole I'mma-shake-my-ass-in-people's-faces-to-show-how-long-I-can-go. The song is not asking how huge your backside is, it's just asking how close to the ground you can get, and I complied.

Honestly though, the Cha Cha Slide was the least of my problems. That's the song they play at dances to break the ice, and make all the dancemasters start the party. Unfortunately for me and my awkward friend, not all songs tell you how to dance. There lies my problem. I was pretty much being forced to dance by my other friends, who are absolutely fantastic dancers. Whenever they fist pound and shit, it doesn't look ridiculous (like it does on Jersey Shore), it looks natural, and right. Not so much for me.

At one point, I was just standing in the middle of my sweaty, putrid-smelling friends, who were all like:

I was half-heartedly hopping to what  I hope was the beat, looking obviously unhappy. My dancetastic friends  were like, "Dance, Anna!" I answered, straining my vocal cords to make them hear me over Lady Gaga's newest hit, "I don't really know how. I'm just copying what you guys are doing, and simplifying it so I can do it with minimal effort." One particularly dancerific friend replied, "Just feel the music!"

What?! How does one go about feeling the music?! I can hear the music (Anyone within a five mile radius probably could), I can feel the vibrations of it throughout my body, and the massive headache listening to iTunes Top Purchased has given me, but I cannot feel the music. That's just a blatant misuse of the five senses.

I continued to half-heartedly hop, put my hands up at the appropriate times, and avoid grinding trains (I mean, honestly, what is appealing about having someone's ass rub against you?) for the rest of the dance. I went home with my iPod, listening to very non-dancey music that I enjoy, with an even greater knowledge of exactly how awkward I am. I can talk to people, and I like to socialize, but when surrounded by hundreds of sweating, grinding, dancing teenagers, my charisma comes to a halt.

Lesson of the Day: Trust your instincts. If you're an awkward dancer, no matter how much your dancerific friends want you to go, don't go to a dance!

Song of the Day: Teach Me How to Dougie- The Cali Swag District

...Kidding. The Song of the Day is actually Fuck You, by Cee-Lo Green. That's directed to the chick who told me to "feel the music."

Cold, Ice, Slush, Excretion Colored Snow, and Ass Pains

"I know I'm getting old when I start to really fucking hate snow." -Wes, the master quote generator. (Or, more commonly known as, my older brother)

Luckily, I haven't quite reached the stage of despising snow yet. To me, snow is like that kinda weird aunt, who you appreciate seeing every year on Christmas, because they give you a good present, but once you see them more than once a year, you realize they're kinda nuts, and don't really like to spend so much time with them. Snow in the city, however, is an especially crazy aunt. I mean, it has some upsides, but, just like everything that happens to me, seems to have more down. 

When we first got our huge snowfall, it was unbelievable. It's ridiculous, thinking that the city can be held still by a plethora of frozen water that falls from the sky.  The fact that a bunch of shit falling from clouds can create an almost alternate universe is nuts. I was able to walk through the streets, make snow angels on cars that had no hope of moving for weeks, and fucking eat shit off the ground. How often can you insert something that you find on a city street into your mouth, when you're not attempting suicide?! 

But, alas, the magicness of snow doesn't last past the first day. People crush it in their dirty-ass hipster boots, turning perfect white loveliness into a slushy, poop-colored mixture. They walk their dogs (I guess I'm guilty too), who then excrete on the snow, making it turn a lovely yellow color, which would easily trick a stupid three year old into thinking they're eating a lemon icee. Plow trucks come around and clear the streets, making  my winter wonderland disappear in a few hours. But that's like Christmas with my crazy-ass aunt. She gives me a kinda great present, which will become unentertaining in a few days, and sit in my closet, gathering dirt and dust, just like the snow on the street. 

But then we get more snow. And more. And fucking more! It's enough! I like snow, but with the obnoxious chancellor not giving us a snow day, and it basically just making my commute everywhere a thousand times harder, it's annoying! Now, the snow is all fucking ice, which is really bad news, because my already uncoordinated feet that can barely handle walking on normal ground, end up slipping like every three steps, making my ass feel like there's a little man on the inside of it, who's sole purpose in life is to make my butt feel extreme pain. But alas, there is one last upside. The city is basically a mass of lights, which yes, makes it hard to fall asleep. The ice glows under the blaring streetlights, serving as a friendly little reminder that if I step in that shiny spot, I will break my butt.

Lesson of the day? That Mother Nature needs to quit with this, and go make some village in Africa that's suffering from a drought really rainy. 

...Or maybe that I should stop wearing my converse, and get some shoes with more friction on the bottom..

Song of the Day: Winter, by Joshua Radin. How very fitting.