You missed me a lot. We both know this.
It's been about a friggin' year since I hopped on here and shared some of thoughts on things, so I figured now's as good a time as any to unload a little bit. So with that in mind, let's just get to it, shall we?
I. MODERN FITNESS "CLASSES" ARE FUCKING STUPID.
It must be getting tougher for commercial gym chains like LA Fitness or Bally's or whoever to compete and/or differentially market themselves from the more convenient fads like P90x and such these days because it seems like every five minutes they're offering some newfangled, would-be trendy exercise program like "Zumba" or "Aqua Fit" or "Pole-Dancing" (note: I do NOT have a problem with this one) or, and this one is just hilarious, "Latin Heat!" - which I can only assume involves little more than putting a Jennifer Lopez playlist on shuffle and shaking your ass (aka "booty-quake", which is a term I just learned and thoroughly enjoy) in front of a mirror while holding maracas and/or plates of nachos... If I'm wrong, it ain't by much.
The only problem with these programs - well, save for the atrocious names/titles themselves - is that they don't do a g'damn thing for ya. Do you know how I know this? It's because I look into the rooms where said classes are being held, and all I see are orbicular, gelatinous heaps of desperate humanity gracelessly thrashing about. It's sad too because the only thing in those rooms thicker than the thighs is the collective naivete. In fact, I'm setting the over/under at three months..... which is the amount of time I'm giving myself before I barge in one of these shams and start dragging these helpless rotundos out of the room, slapping them, pointing my finger in their face so close that their eyes go crossed trying to look at it, and telling them "Listen, if you want to get in shape and lose weight, moderate your diet and get. on. the. fucking. treadmill. No amount of 'urban aqua salsa spin hip-hop pilate aerobic basics' is going to do anything for you!" Let me know if you got the over or under and I'll let you know in early June if you were correct.
But while we're still on the subject, for a while I found myself wondering how they (whoever "they" may be) continue to conjure these fraudulent exercise programs, but I think I've figured it out. Clearly they just take three six-sided dice with different exercise terms on the faces, roll them, and mash together the three words that come up. Yes, that's how it's done, I'm convinced.
The level of legitimacy/rationality in this naming process seems to match that of the programs themselves, so it all makes sense. See, I know everything ('Yes, I believe you think you do...' Yes, that's correct).
Fortunately, however, charades such as these aren't without their sense of entertainment. And by that I mean that I've found it to be remarkably fun to make a game out of this dice idea (plus it serves as a rather convenient avenue through which I can channel my frustration and turn it into laughter, which is always nice to be able to do). The game is simple; you don't even really need dice. Just think of three different words you often see/hear in the gym and arrange them in such a way that a creates a funny hypothetical fitness class name. I'll start you off with some examples, and then you should think of your own and post them in the comment section... Some of my favorites so far are "Urban Salsa Weight-Training," (what would you even DO?!? Ha!), "Circuit Pole-Dance Kickboxing," "Heavy Aquatic Belly Dancing," "Spinning Hip-Hop Yoga", "and "Zumba Zumba Weights." Go ahead and try it out...Ri-diiiii-culous how much fun it is.
II. A QUESTION THAT PLAGUED MY MIND FOR SOME TIME
What would a sequel to "Air Force One" be called? Would they just suck it up and call it "Air Force One Two"? That would be silly. Or would they go with the more aesthetically pleasing but completely illogical "Air Force Two"? (Illogical because it would presumably still take place on Air Force One).
I eventually contented myself with concluding that they would probably just commit movie suicide by completely ditching the number "2" and just adding a colon/cheesy tag-line. We've seen this before with abhorrent sequels like "XXX: State of the Union", "Hellraiser: Bloodline", "Highlander: Endgame," "Terminator: Salvation" and "Rambo: Stallone's Bulge"..... I'm kidding, I've never heard of that Hellraiser movie either (Zing!).
Anyway, for the Air Force One sequel, I bet they'd center the cheesy tag-line around the air/sky/weather and come up with something like "Air Force One: Twilight Terrorism" or "Air Force One: A New Evil Dawns" or the like. Of course, if they sought my counsel, I would suggest they make the wise choice and go with "Air Force One: Seriously, Get Off My Fucking Plane".... By the way, this becomes a lot funnier when you say these movie titles out loud in that stern, movie-previews-guy voice.
And that about wraps up my thoughts on Air Force One and it's hypothetical follow-up. I feel better.
III. A SMALL NUGGET OF IRONY
I recently heard someone say that we (meaning all of humanity I assume) need to settle our differences so that we can unite to make a difference.
Think about that for a few seconds. I'd have probably changed the wording up a little bit. The way this is worded makes me feel like I'm about to have a nose-bleed.
IV. WHY BLUETOOTH AND CENTER CITY DON'T MIX
The reason is simple: because when you're walking around my neighborhood at night (a nice neighborhood, but really not far from rape-ville...you know what I mean), you can't tell who's on their bluetooth and who is a fucking psychopath talking to himself (which I've seen with striking frequency).
Let me paint a picture for you. It's downtown Philly. It's winter. It's after midnight. You're walking home from the gay bar, errr, from the bar. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn around to see that it's a large person wearing a large coat, hat, and gloves. You hear the person speaking, saying things like "I gotta do this. I got this. I got this!" What does your brain say to you at that moment?
I'll tell you what it says. It says, "This is probably just a man walking home and talking on his bluetooth. But, then again, we're not far from rape-ville. Maybe the clothes have nothing to do with the weather. Maybe he doesn't want to be seen and/or leave fingerprints. Maybe there is no bluetooth. Maybe, just maybe, I'm about to shiv'd in the neck." Then, immediately after that, your brain diverts all its power to send emergency messages to your ass muscles, ordering them to clench so you don't instantly shit your pants at the thought that just occurred to you. And as everyone knows, you can't clench your ass while walking....so you STOP. Then your brain says, "You're stopping? Really? When Shivvy Magoo looms a mere six steps behind you?" Then, after you take one final second to feel like a shmuck for stopping, your brains once again diverts its power to the legs, instructing them to pick up the pace, nay, RUN! the rest of the way home with zero regard for anyone's safety. So that's what you do. You run, and since it's winter, you slip on the ice and fall on your ass so many times that you start to laugh at the irony of the situation - even though you're escaping rape-ville, your ass is still taking a pounding (Again, zing!).
Finally, once you get home safely, you stop and think for a moment. You think to yourself, "I bet that was probably just a normal guy. He was probably talking to someone on his bluetooth about something he had to do. He probably was wearing those clothes because, well duh! Come on! It's freezing out there! He probably didn't want to kill and/or rape me." Then you feel comfortable. Then you go about your business for a while. Then, much later, the ultimate ironic thought pops into your brain when you realize that this normal guy on his bluetooth probably thinks YOU'RE the psychopath. I mean, who the hell goes from a normal walking pace to a dead stop to a full sprint in a five-second span?
And THAT, my friends, is why bluetooth technology and downtown Philly don't mix.
V. QUICK HITTERS
- Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I'm going to say it again regardless. There should be a "Wack-A-Mole" style game in which you have to use the hammer to hit little avocado shaped creatures, and it should be called "Guac-A-Mole." Genius, I know. Plus, when you get a high-score it could spit out coupons to a local produce shop instead of tickets you need six million of to redeem for vastly overpriced stuffed animals. And as I learned the hard way, mashed-up stuffed animals don't taste nearly as good on nachos as avocados do.
- My least favorite part of every football game is the opening drive because that's when you are introduced to every player on both sides of the ball by way of pre-recorded video. I don't mind this idea, I just hate what is routinely said during these little intros. In other words, I don't understand why so many players have to tell you where they went to college by specifying that it is the only college with that particular name. You know what I mean? For example, "Jerricho Cotchery - THE!....North Carolina State University." I hate that shit. It doesn't add any prestige to your alma mater by proclaiming that it is the only one with that name. In the future, please just say "NC State" instead of being a complete douchebag. Is that too much to ask?
It is funny, however, to consider the alternative. Like if I played in the NFL and said, "DJ Mazzola, A!...Saint Joseph's University. As in one of MANY!....Saint Joseph's Universities. but I went to THE!....one in Philadelphia, PA."
- People, if you have a personal problem with features/layout/aesthetic of facebook, please don't let your chosen (and only) course of action be to post a status update that starts with "Dear facebook,..." then explains your concern, then ends with "Sincerely, (your name)." It's not funny. It's nooooooooot funny. And nobody gives a shit, especially Mark Zuckerberg. Stop.
Alright, that'll do it for now. 'Til next time, stay away from those bullshit gym classes.
DJ
