I Don't Like Pain - it Hurts Me

Kirsten and I joined Bally's couple of years ago - right after we bought our house in South City, actually. We joined because at the time I worked at Washington University (still do), and she worked in Creve Coeur. The Clayton location of Bally's was basically equidistant to both her job and our home, and convenient for me, and so it made good sense to join there.

Last year, in all the to-do with getting married, Kirsten just basically stopped going. I've managed to go a couple of times a week since we joined, so it's not as if we're totally wasting our money, but we haven't really been getting our money's worth out of the membership, either.

Kirsten, despite her lack of motivation, agreed to go back to the gym if we could go for classes, because she knew she'd feel more inclined to go if we had to reserve spots in classes than if we just worked with free weights and machines.

So on Monday we went back - me for the first time in like a week, she for the first time in nearly a year. We were hoping to get into a yoga class (read: she was hoping to get into a yoga class and I was hoping to get her to go back and so would agree to just about anything that wasn't a prostate exam), but that wasn't offered that night. Instead, we took a spinning class. At the time, it didn't seem so bad.

Now, though....augh.

I can honestly say that I have never been in this much discomfort after a workout before in just one area. I've been sore before, sure. I've hurt, yeah, no doubt. But right now my calves are cramping basically all of the time (and have been all day). They hurt so much that when I stand up and lengthen the muscle (because my toes and heels are now level), I have to crouch a little to shorten the muscle again. This is quite possibly the worst experience of my life. I'd rather have a bot fly infestation in my nostrils than deal with this pain.

We're going back on Monday.

Two Seemingly Unrelated Points

This year the rain has been so heavy in the Missouri area west of St. Louis that the River Des Peres has been at full stage basically all spring and, so far, all of the summer. Normally, especially in south St. Louis city (and Affton, a close southern suburb), where it drains into the Mississippi River, the River Des Peres is just a big open ditch that smells vaguely of sewage and eggs.

That makes sense, since it is an open sewer.

Anyway, tonight the wife and I were on our way south to the South County Mall, and as we're crossing the River Des Peres on I-55, there was a dude on a jetski merrily making his way around in the waterway.

To reiterate: it's an open sewer. And he's screaming down it at 30 miles an hour, probably with his mouth open. Dummy.

Just the day before, the Boston Celtics won the 2007-08 NBA championship with a 131-92 ass-whipping beatdown of the Los Angeles Lakers, partly because of one of the most successful high-school-to-pro players in history, Kevin Garnett (who is slightly less successful than Kobe Bryant, another high-school-to-pro guy).

Garnett, you may recall, was traded in the summer for seven players. One guy. For seven guys. And cash, too!

Since the NBA rosters are only 11 players, you might as well say that Garnett went to the Celtics, and the Minnesota Timberwolves got an entire starting lineup (five players) and two benchwarmers, plus enough money to buy a case of really nice beer.

And now the Celtics are World Champions, whereas the Timberwolves finished the season with 22 wins and 60 losses (to be fair, they finished 2006-07 with 32 wins and 50 losses).

How are these two points related, you may ask?

Simple.

Both JetSki guy and T-wolves General Manger Jim Stack are, at this moment, probably feeling pretty badly.

Pick a Card - any Oozing, Gooey Card

So, a study came out recently (today, maybe?) that said that 25% of New Yorkers have herpes. You know, that sexually-transmitted open-sores-around-the-naughty-parts disease? Like cold sores around your wingwang or hoo-hah (because it is cold sores around your wingwang or hoo-hah)?

Yeah, that's the one.

The thing is, I know five people in New York.

What this means, probabalistically, is that one and one-quarter people I know in NYC have leaky scabby spots around their not-supposed-to-be-leaky-or-scabby-bits. And I honestly have no idea who they could be.

The suspense is killing me!

Moral Judgements are Evil

So, I'm trying hard not to say what it is that I definitely want to say after reading this article on FoxNews.

For those too lazy to click the link, an 8-year-old girl has suffered from several "intestinal performations," more accurately called "holes in her gut," after swallowing a bunch of magnets from a building set.

Let me stop here for a moment.

Folks, babies swallow things. You have to babyproof your house until your child is like three, and I get that. I understand. Some dogs swallow things; they might be mentally unstable (as many dogs are), they might be dumb, they might be attracted to sweet or rubbery flavors. Whatever. I get it.

But if your daughter is eight, she has got to be smart enough to know you don't swallow things in boxes that don't have a fucking Nabisco label.

If your daughter is mentally challenged, then it's your job to make sure she doesn't eat things she shouldn't. I know that's terrible, but that's the burden that comes, sometimes, with having a child. There are children out there who cannot be left alone, and there are adults who cannot be left alone. I get that - the families of those folks have my sympathy.

But unless your child is mentally disabled, or younger than three, she shouldn't be eating the fucking magnets from a box of fucking K'Nex.

I'm sorry that kid's had to have surgery. But the parents suing because they didn't explain to their daughter that some things, like FUCKING METAL BLOCKS, AREN'T FUCKING FOOD?

No. No. No, no, no, a thousand times no.