Irradiated by LabRat
I am beginning to think I have a limited supply of motivation. Since returning from home and officially wrapping up the holidays, I have managed to successfully get back into working out regularly and intensely, make some good headway on making some diet tweaks I wanted to try out, catch up on my reading, and basically do everything but get back into the mind-groove where I can come up with something semi-interesting and longer than a paragraph written here. What is mostly keeping my butt in my chair and my fingers on my keyboard at the moment is a sense that this is a use it or lose it proposition even if I really dun wanna; I would much rather be playing Mass Effect. (AWESOME game, by the way. One of us will probably post a more detailed review later.) So here: have a box of random.
– Is there a band from the seventies called “Sucking”? Obviously, Googling “sucking” and “band” gets me absolutely nowhere. Those are probably two of the most commonly combined words on the internet, outside the sorts of words that get even more people searching for particularly depraved forms of pornography landing here than usual. The reason I ask is that, while at a truck stop waiting for my fried chicken livers, my eye alighted on the obligatory rack of CDs with a selection carefully market-researched to appeal to absolutely no one living or dead, and I saw an album entitled, I shit you not, “Sucking In The Seventies”. I made Stingray come over and confirm the sighting to make sure I was not hallucinating. I have absolutely no idea what the hell it was supposed to be.
– Apparently,working out to music has not only been proven to help, but there are now DJs remixing tracks to BPM rates scientifically demonstrated to be most effective for whatever type of cardio you’re doing. I find this cool- I basically sputter to a stop, looking tragically lost and forlorn, if god-forbid the battery in my MP3 player happens to die mid-set. Evidently, metal is the most popular music for strength training, which doesn’t shock. My player has basically everything, though; I get a perverse sort of satisfaction from deadlifting to Jill Sobule. Why? Because I have a very strange sense of humor, that’s why.
– This is the sort of story where I really, really wish the science reporter had bothered to pass along the methodology of the study being reported on. The premise is that men supposedly can more easily enjoy “chick flicks”- or “emotional melodramas”- when the story has been “explicitly fictionalized”. What I want to know is, what does that mean? Because a lot of sci fi, fantasy, mystery, and war movies have core plots that are melodramatic as hell, and what makes them engaging isn’t that they’ve been “explicitly fictionalized”, it’s that they’re a million times more interesting than a story about an amusingly neurotic woman and a slightly dense man attempting to have a relationship. I possess a fully functional set of ovaries, have never experienced any sort of gender-role indoctrination conditioning me against chick flicks or telling me I shouldn’t cry, and 99% of them make me want to shoot myself in the face, because they are BORING. Worse than that, most of the time the characters themselves are people I would actively dislike, because their priorities and their approach are fucked. It’s much easier to set up a drama that doesn’t make me want to start punching people in the face when the main source of conflict is “galactic warfare” rather than “their hangups”.
If you climb, you may die or be seriously injured. This is true whether you are experienced or not, trained or not, equipped or not, though training and equipment may help. It’s a fact, climbing is extremely dangerous. If you don’t like it, stay at home. You really shouldn’t be doing it anyway. We do not provide supervision or instruction. We are not responsible for, and do not inspect or maintain, climbing anchors (including bolts, pitons, slings, trees, etc.) As far as we know, any of them can and will fail and send you plunging to your death.
…but it’s all good. I don’t know who these people are, and I hate rock climbing, but I kind of want to buy them a round of beer.
Also, I think the best way to get me talkative again is probably to find something to fight with. Tick me off! Find me stupid people! I need a new chew toy.