Kayak Attack

Yesterday I bought a scale and weighed myself, and found that I weighed about 205 pounds. Appalled, I resolved to do some exercise today.

I kind of like kayaking, and can rent a kayak for two dollars at Lakewood, so I decided to do that. When I was about fifteen minutes in, my right leg went asleep. Either a nerve or artery had been pinched by my fat ass.

I paddled my way back at the same furious pace as I had paddled out. I'm not very keen on moderation when it comes to exercise, especially when I'm alone and have no one to slow me down.

I had a hell of a time pulling myself out of the boat when I got back to shore. I could stand if I locked my knee and walked as if I had a peg leg. An old guy that was about to head out on the lake helped me with the boat. After that, I collapsed on the grass for about five minutes. I then was overcome with an urge to crap and puke at the same time.

I hobbled over to the bathrooms, got myself a stall, and proceeded to empty my bowels and dry-heave for about fifteen minutes. I emerged, refreshed and able to walk, but my hands were shaking. I bumped into a couple of girls I know -- it's a pity I couldn't have gone back out on the lake with them.

I got my card back, turned in my jacket and paddle, and headed back to my Jeep, where I listened to the Garden State soundtrack for about ten minutes.

I guess I ought not to be too surprised -- I used to have to pull over to the side of the road and heave and hack during especially grueling bike rides. I haven't truly exercised in a long time though, so I guess that's why this time my reponse was so severe.

I do feel a bit refreshed now, though. I just need to learn some moderation.

Am I a geezer?

I went to the mall today, hoping to pick up a couple new items of clothing, but couldn't find a single thing I wanted.

I was most interested in finding some shorts that are constructed in the manner to which I am accustomed -- that is, they don't conceal my shins, and they don't have extraneous zippers and logos and whatnot all over them. I was unsuccessful.

I've also been looking for a replacement for my gray zip-up hoody for awhile. I originally found it in the skate park, but lost it some time last year. I've found gray zip-up hoodies, but they all have enormous logos and artwork all over them. I just want a gray zip-up hoody, dammit. A small logo is acceptable, but I don't want to be a billboard.

I also couldn't find anything in the gap I liked. Nearly every shirt in there was long-sleeved. It's fucking July!

I was looking for some patio furniture in Target to put out on my balcony. That section was gone, and replaced with a big back to school section. I repeat: It's fucking July!

Neda: Fairhaven Afficianado

Neda, my superior in the NYT, emailed me a day or so ago because she wanted to meet while she was in Bellingham today. I told her I could do that, and gave her my lunch hours. She told me to meet her in the Viking Commons at noon.

Fast forward to noon today, and she's not there. I ring her up, asking if she wanted to meet at the Viking Commons or the Viking Union. She replied that she was actually in the "Fairhaven Area."

I told her that that was okay, and that I'd meet her in about ten minutes or so. I then questioned whether or not the dining halls were open there, but assumed that they must be, as she was there. She told me she was in the Colophon Café, which I took to be the wacky hippy name of the convenience store there, akin to Arntzen Atrium.

I hoofed my way down there, and found that no food services, either dining hall or convenience store, were open. I rang Neda up, and asked her if she was in Fairhaven College or Fairhaven District.

She was in goddamned Fairhaven district!

I told her that I don't have a car that I drive to campus, and I had to be back to work in forty-five minutes, and that I couldn't make it.

What the Christ? I swear this is part of some genius management strategy that theorizes pissed off workers are effective workers. I lost half of my lunch break walking to Fairhaven and back.

Wacky Fun Dreams

I had two amazing dreams last night that I'd like to permanently commit to memory.

The first was set back in Oak Harbor. It appeared that it was during the time I was in high school, as all my stuff was still in my bedroom. I was returning from some place, and found a number of firetrucks parked in various orientations around my house. I thought that the house had caught on fire, but after examining the inside, found nothing amiss. It then came to my attention that, in celebration of a birthday, a bunch of dumb hicks had gotten drunk and lit nearly every tree on the island on fire. I had apparently missed this scorched landscape when first outside my house, cause dreams are cool like that.

The second was pornographic and awesome. There were two girls, one of which was Lily Thai. The first girl got all pissed off for some reason and left at some point. And then I woke up.

"It's pornography, really."

This happened about a week ago, but I remembered it today when talking about work with someone, and I must immortalize it before it escapes my memory.

I was alone at the front of the Help Desk. Isaac was working that shift, but had stepped out to do something. A guy I'd seen many times before, Rafael, wanders in with the same helpless and confused look he always has. Rafael is old, Italian, and clueless about all things in computer land. He's the kind of guy that comes in with his Start menu missing because he'd resized it to be too small.

He tells me that he was watching a video on his laptop, and the video got larger, and he wants it to be small again. I'm not quite sure what he's talking about, so I instruct him to get out his laptop and bring up the video he was trying to watch. He gets out his laptop (including the goddamn wall charger -- it's a laptop, dammit!), we wait for Windows to boot up, and he opens up his web browser.

He turns and says to me, "It's pornography, really." What the hell? I'm slightly taken aback, but then think perhaps he's joking, or possibly afflicted with some kind of adware that's been playing porno movies on his computer. He places his cursor in the address bar, and types in 'www.' I can see that his autocomplete cache is absolutely full of adult sites before he can finish typing in 'yahoo.com.' He gets to Yahoo!, and then types 'ampland' into the search field.

Yup, this guy actually came to a university's computer help desk to get assistance with his porno. And it's not even good porn! Do the same Yahoo! search, you'll see for yourself.

Before he can start clicking on things, I tell him, "I don't think this is really appropriate for the Help Desk." I seize control of the laptop, close the web browser, and open up Windows Media Player to see if I can solve his problem. Windows Media Player is maximized. I un-maximized it, and he thanks me for solving his problem.

I gave him my standard, "No problem," reply, and an awkward silence ensued while he gathered his laptop and tried to wrap up the cords on his wall charger, which I never bothered to plug in. He tells me, "Thanks, again," on his way out, and I reply, "Yeah, no problem."

As soon as he was gone, I raced in to my superior's office to share the glorious news.

Random Ho Call

I was sleeping last night around 2:00 a.m., when my damn phone starts vibrating and ringing on my computer desk over yonder. I thought it was a drunken Titus at the time, since he's back in town, but when I checked my voicemail it turned out to be (probably drunken) hoes informing me that I sound hot.

Listen! Numbers have been edited out to prevent internet idiots from attacking poor, defenseless phone hoes.

I think I might call up Greg or Titus to go out ninja-scamming on some chicas.