I never thought I’d see the day when I would be furious with a midget.
Now, it’s well-documented that my dog is racistheightest against midgets, and I know that when I start shrinking, I can look forward to him attempting to kiss me on the neck with all of his teeth while growling hello, but in general, I find midgets to be delightful*.
There’s a midget child in my apartment complex, and every time he scoots by on his razor, it’s like my birthday and christmas combined. Amy and I were both in agreement–if this child showed up on our doorstep on Halloween dressed as a leprechaun or an oompa loompa, we would give him every last bit of candy in the apartment, and we might even lay in wait for other children to steal their candy to give to him. Sadly, he didn’t show up on trick-or-treat night, and I fear he never shall as I turned into That Neighbor as I’m pretty sure I accidentally flashed a boob at a trick-or-treater when I answered the door in my bathrobe while getting ready to go out.
Amy and I have taken to frequenting the apartment complex’s gym facilities (it’s not much–two treadmills, a bike, and weights, but it does the job) regularly, ever since the nearby 24 hour fitness turned into a SUPER 24 hour fitness and all of a sudden my membership isn’t good enough to get me through the front door anymore. Nicole has convinced me not to quit the football team just yet, and now I need to work out extra-hard on my own just to get ready for team crossfit workouts on the weekends, because at the moment, 40 minutes of squats, 30 minutes of military presses and 50 pullups (!? I CAN’T EVEN DO ONE, upper body strength is not my thing!) plus running is going to kill me.
Last night, we went to the gym, only to find it overrun with children like pee-wee’s goddamn playhouse had exploded in there–one woman had brought six children with her, including the midget, and she was just parked on the exercise bike, not actually pedalling, watching telenovelas on Unavision. Amy gave me a look and said she was going to hit the tanning bed in the hopes that everyone would clear out while she was inside, and wished me luck.
I glared at the children and began jogging. The women on Llores de Sangre de Jesus Cristo** sobbed and shouted “ai papi” for twenty minutes straight. The woman on the bike was enthralled and didn’t notice her monsters fucking up the weights or the midget playing on the other treadmill like it was a jungle gym–there was even one OTHER child who stood outside the window and tapped to get in for a while before bike-lady noticed. And I was struggling. Struggling not to flip my shit, struggling to not start kicking people in the face***, struggling to not crack a tooth while doing so. I’ve got teeth like Jimmy’s fabled corn because I am a jaw-clencher to avoid lashing out. Nearly all of my recent dental misfortunes can be attributed to a family member–for instance, here’s a gem from grandma: “Oh, well, that Melissa’s got such a big mouth, no wonder she’ll never land a husband. Plus she’s carrying around all that weight, it’s such a shame, she used to be so pretty.” CRACK.
So I’m still jogging and surrounded by yelling, destructive children, with the TV at full blast full screaming “AI PAPI” and the woman sitting on the bike next to me isn’t doing squat to resolve either situation, and I’m filling with self-righteous fury about how Amy and I pay rent to use these facilities and these goddamn children are ruining it for us, meanwhile my teeth are creaking like a rotten wooden bridge, and I decided that instead of jaw-clenching, I should try to channel my fury into running, so every time I felt angry, I upped the speed on the treadmill. By the end, I was running so fast and so hard I was afraid I was going to put one of my rhinocerous legs straight through the treadmill, get dragged into the machinery, and be stuck lying on the floor with a shattered leg, mewling in pain, while the midget stood over me and laughed, and I really don’t think it’s fair to expect me to live through someone elses’ acid trip. So I punched ‘pause’ on the machine and prepared to unleash holy flip-out hell on everyone. It was at that exact moment that Llores de Sangre de Jesus Cristo ended, and bike woman herded all of her children the fuck out of the room, thereby denying me the pleasure of ripping her a new one.
Next time I go to the exercise room, I’m bringing some scissors and thread for some impromptu vaginal surgery.
Next time I see the midget, I’m tripping him.
*I know I’m going to hell. You don’t need to tell me.
**I don’t remember the actual name, but one telenovela is like the next.
***I’ve been training in kickboxing specifically because I want to one day be able to kick anyone in the face whom I want to kick, regardless of height. My goal is to one day stroll into a Wal-Mart and just start facekicking everyone.
SWEET BUTTERY LOVE!
The day you decided to go to WalMart…you MUST let me know…I need to witness your unleashing and give it the proper story telling for future generations. Let this thing be done. OM!
Re: SWEET BUTTERY LOVE!
Oh, I’ll be sure to broadcast that day in advance–after all, it’ll be the last day anyone sees me for a long time unless they planned on visiting me in jail.
Nice to know I’m not the only one with a grandmother who has a tendency to be a real asshole.
What’s worse is that she says she’s telling me these things for my health. I’m pretty sure it would be much better for my blood pressure if she’d shut the fuck up.
Yeah, that’s bullshit.
Also, if she was sooooo concerned about health, she’d quit smoking. AGGH.
You ever do the reverse at her?
“Oh granny, always gossiping and handing out unwanted advice. Lots to offer but no tact, it’s sad. No wonder your grandkids only come to visit you once a year!”
HA. This is the same woman who flipped out when she found out her son was A Gay. My great aunt Mary died on Friday, and *I* had to call my dad to tell him about his aunt’s passing because his own mother wouldn’t. I hardly think pointing out her lack of tact will achieve anything.
Oh yes, THAT grandmother.
In this case, I would be much meaner. I don’t have a lot of compassion when it comes to folks like that. As I recall, you’re a better person than I am in that way.
It’s not that I’m a better person that way, it’s that I’m taking an extraordinarily long time to process and deal with this. The whole situation bothers me a lot whenever I dwell on it. I visited with them when I was in Wisconsin, and I regretted it.
I try to make allowances for them because they grew up in a different time, but my mother’s parents grew up in that same time period and they’re wonderful people–even now, years after the divorce, they consider my dad to be part of their family.
I know I’m giving them more chances than I would give people ordinarily, but I find I’m having a difficult time casting off the idea of family, because I just don’t seem to have that much of it. I think the gamechanger will be when Bigot Grandma’s twin sister dies (which looks like it’s not far down the road). If that doesn’t get her to change her attitudes regarding family and the time she has left, then I don’t see why I should bother continuing to try.
Write a letter of complaint to the apt. complex’s management, and CC it to their supervisor(s). Be very specific about the *dangerous* things the kids were doing. That’s a HUGE liability issue for the complex, and kids should NOT be allowed in the exercise room. Express concern over the lax supervisory capabilities of the mother, and how you’re just terribly afraid the poor children will be injured terribly.
Also point out that you and Amy were unable to use the facilities you pay for, and that you want something done ASAP. I’d be really surprised if they don’t ban kids from the exercise room, ’cause that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. Argh!
The rules are that no one under 18 is allowed in without adult supervision. I’d argue that in this case, they weren’t being supervised but *technically* they were within the rules.
After seeing that pretty shocking display of parental fail last night, I finally understand why the equipment is broken so often.
I do like the tactic of letting the managers know, at least. Mentioning the fact that the kids could get hurt and sue might do the trick… or at the very least it’ll give you an easier out when you do crack one of them over the head.
“Oh, no I saw the little darling running along and I think he hit his head on a piece of equipment… I hear they do that often in here, running around with wild abandon. It was only a matter of time, really.”
Which is technically true, when you think about it.
Oh, the managers will be hearing about it for sure. I really, really wish there was such a thing as an adults-only apartment complex–not retiree-level quiet, but someplace where I could actually use the swimming pool or other facilities and not end up inadvertantly babysitting someone elses’ goddamn kid.
The place where I live is a little like that… though we don’t have an exercise facility. All the floorplans are open and loft-style, so nobody with kids wants to live there. Being unable to go into a room and shut the door (other than closets and bathrooms) would drive most parents to infanticide, I think.
Wait, what??? Is this the 24 Hour Fitness down by the Commons? And your membership isn’t good anymore? WTF? That’s where I go*! Damn them! Are we supposed to upgrade or something?
*”Go” might be too strong a word. Actually I just pay them a monthly license fee for the privilege of letting the membership card take up valuable real estate in my wallet. But I *could conceivably* want to go. Someday. After I get in better shape.
No, no, the 24 hour in Covington, by the Sharis/Burgertime. It moved half a block down the street in the same complex (where Albertson’s used to be) and went from a regular 24 hour fitness to one of the ‘sport’ clubs with the pool/raquetball/basketball court things in addition to all of the other stuff. That’s the only one that had a class schedule I liked in this area. They didn’t actually open the new club until July, but they told me in April that the transition had already been made on the computers and I couldn’t go to that club anymore until I upgraded my membership. I got really angry and didn’t upgrade on principle since it seemed ridiculous that they wanted me to pay for access to a ‘sport’ club when I wasn’t GETTING a ‘sport’ club for 3 more months!
I should just bite the bullet and pay for an all-access card, I really enjoyed going to the gym when I *could* attend.
Well, that’s a pseudo-relief. Hmm. If you just want to hit the machines, the one down by the Commons isn’t bad, especially around 9P-ish. At least that was the case when I was going, back when the planet’s crust was still cooling and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Bonus: No children or telenovelas.
I should definitely go to the one by the Commons until I (ahem) weasel my way into an upgraded membership. I feel guilty every time I look in my wallet and see the card!
my grandma is also just dreamy. in the late 90s she printed out my website and snail-mailed it to my parents, highlighting such subjects of concern as ‘likes: the simpsons, dislikes: crystal meth’. apparently she longs for a grandchild to be a meth addict.
in each letter (and there are many) she inquires when i’ll be married/breeding. she often warns me to stay out of the ‘gay areas’ when i go to san francisco.
my favorite is a recent one. she knows i aspire to attend uw, and informed me she’d be interested in helping out financially… but only if i live on campus. apparently she thinks that when i’m 30 i will be longing to move out of my big, happy house into a cramped dorm with teenagers. i researched the fees and it’d actually cost $300/month more to live in a jail cell.
she noted ‘i’d only be willing to pay for a year, though… because i think you’re a pretty girl and a year would be long enough to land a fine husband.’
she was not even remotely sarcastic.
I think Cthulhu every day that my grandparents don’t have access to the internet.
You like the simpsons? I always knew you were a moral degenerate!
I love how your grandma isn’t willing to pay for an education for education’s sake, but only as a dating venue. Ask her to send you to med school!
i couldn’t get in 🙁
BUT HOW WILL YOU LAND A FINE DOCTORIN’ HUSBAND?!?
i try so hard to tell myself over and over that it’s a generational thing, that her racism/sexism/homophobia is just how she was raised, that she never went to college, never left the united states and really hasn’t seen much of the world in general, etc… but even back in those days there were a tiny minority of people who were artists, misfits, fought for civil rights et al and it’s just hard for me to wrap my head around. it’s hard not to hate her. i just try to remind myself that in all likelihood she only has a few years left to say these things
That pretty well mirrors my feelings about my grandma. I am trying my best not to hate her, but it’s really difficult at times. I can’t fathom her closemindedness.
I go to the gym for the television, I don’t know what you go to it for
To interact with scads of lovely children, of course!
You wanted to be a pedo when you grew up didn’t you?
Well, that or a clown.
That’s definitely more of an “and” than an “or” situation.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, you’ll ruin my side business, abducting children!
That’s a one up from me, I wanted to work at McDonald’s
Oh, ambitious! I heard a radio ad the other day that said people with McDonald’s jobs can really go places! I don’t doubt the veracity of that statement one bit, as everyone knows that advertisements don’t lie.
creaking like a rotten wooden bridge
You are furiously funny…
You know, this reminds me of when people bring all their kids to the grocery store at 10 p.m.
I figure if other people aren’t laughing at my pain, I’m not doing it right.
if your workout ain’t working, do you want to email you my few programmes i’ve worked up with my trainer to have a look at for info? they’re whole body focussed so you could cherry pick parts to suit you.
plus i have some female specific weight training info specifically designed to debunk the myth that women + weights = bulldyke which may be of interest.
alternatively, i shall shut the fuck up and mind my own business.
Hey, some extra tips couldn’t hurt. My big problem is that the weights in the weight room go in ten pound increments, and it seems like the lower of the two weights is too easy and I have to do a stupid amount of reps to accomplish anything, and the higher of the two weights is so heavy I can’t move it at all. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so frustrating!
10lbs? That’s what, around 4.5 kilos……holy shit!
Roger that. I’ll get my shit together and send something through via FB. Stick at it. It’s all worth it!
holy hell! and people think my life is interesting.
I honestly can’t tell if you’re making fun of me, Mr. World Traveller.
hell no, my life is boring (seriously), it only sounds fun/exciting when you’re hearing about it and not experiencing it. pft, mexican midgets and telemundo, whats not exciting about that?! (to combat meaning lost in text, no sarcasm was in place in this comment)
I wouldn’t mind traveling to exotic locales in your place, really.
wow, i totally misread that comment initially– i was like ‘what?! whoa did this person just proposition me?!’. Hehe, uhm, it’s really not _that_ expensive to travel, I think I just paid ~$700 USD on Tuesday for a ticket to Europe on the 24th. Figure about $1k on average for airfare, depending on where you go and how long you’re there, you can spend very little or a lot on a hotel. Keep in mind also, you prepay for both of these so you can pay long before you travel, then you just need spending money more or less. So really almost regardless of income, so long as you plan properly and can take the time out of your schedule, you can travel.
For me, I view it as my only extra necessities, it’s the only thing that I *know* I want out of life (to see the world), so I take all of the free money and time I can get to do it. To tell you the truth, my biggest regret about it, is that so far I haven’t found anyone else who enjoys it to the same degree and have never found a travel partner; things are a lot more fun most of the time with another person.
oop, that was me
I think more than anything, my problem is time. I’m finally at a point where I feel like I can start putting money toward the things I want without foregoing things I need, because it *is* very important to me to see the world, more than home ownership, more than new cars, more than anything. Spending a year overseas completely altered my view of the world, and now I can’t get enough–I want to see it all. Unfortunately, with family and friends spread out across a few states, I end up going to the same places over and over and over again for holidays and weddings and funerals, and then I don’t have any time left over to go to the places I really want to go.
Most people I know are interested in resort vacations, so I haven’t really found anyone to travel with either (or who could stand me for a week or longer). I’m very fortunate in that I have friends living around the world, so once I can take care of airfare, I shouldn’t even have to worry about hotels in most places I want to go, which subtracts a decent amount as well. 🙂
Within the next year, I plan on going and visiting someplace new, hopefully internationally. Doing the same thing over and over again doesn’t even feel like a vacation.
on a side note, apparently ‘traveler’ and ‘traveller’ are both acceptable, depending on standards. Traveller exists in wiki, whereas it’s not in the dictionary. However, as a random bit of trivia, Traveller was the name of Robert E. Lee’s favorite horse during the civil war.
Speaking of spelling, I sometimes wish I could redo grade school simply so I could spell everything in British English and flip out when they said my spelling was incorrect.. and I wonder why many aspects of my life is more difficult than it should be.