Gym Mullings

Some people are just stank. Some people are plain weird. And some people are outright rude. I promise you, this is never more obvious than at the gym. If you ever want to do an in depth social analysis spanning the whole of the human spectrum, just go to the gym.

But the things people do... I just don't understand. Why. Why? WHY?? Let's explore...

1. You weigh 382 lbs. Why are you on the ab machine?

Seriously, man? Seriously? Listen, I understand that building muscle is important to weight loss. I get that, right there with you. HOWEVER, there is no reason for anyone with that much extra weight to be on the ab machine. Let's focus on making sure you don't die, buddy. We can work on those washboard abs in... oh, let's say 200lbs from now. I only have about 20 lbs to lose, and I still don't mess around on the ab rocker deep muscle hitter crunchamjig. Time out, I seriously just cracked myself up. Just imagine a Rick Ross dude with all that belly, but when he pulled his shirt up, there was a six-pack hanging over his jeans. HA!! How weird would that be?!?!?! Ok, I digress... ::chuckle:: I'm just saying, let's be realistic.

2. Really Mr. Trainerman? You're just gonna roll up in here with your 3 piece wing and sides combo?

Trainers do this All. Of. The. Time. I hate them for it. You know everyone in here is trying to lose weight, and yet you, he of the 8-pack ab/gun show biceps/bounce a quarter of that booty behind, feel it necessary to walk clear across the gym with fried chicken wing in hand, trailing delicious fried food fragrance behind you. Look, we know you put in the work and should be allowed to reap the benefits. That doesn't mean you should reap the benefits in the middle of the gym when I haven't eaten anything other than string cheese, lemon water, and Fiber One bars for the past 8 days. Have a heart. Or else. All I'm saying is this--don't be mad when Mr. 382lbs gets up off that ab machine and rushes your rude entitled behind. Word.

3. You just walked in 2 minutes ago. How is it possible you smell already?

Come on now, folks. I understand the logic of not wanting to shower before you go to the gym since you're going to have to shower as soon as you get done anyway. How. Ev. Er. That logic does not apply if you already haven't showered in 5 days and/or your natural body fragrance is so freaking pungent that you've been gifted the entire Bed, Bath, and Beyond smell good (!!) collection the last three Christmases, birthdays, and Memorial Days in a row. That's just indecent. And unfair. How am I supposed to get a good workout in if I can't even breathe? Why are you undermining my progress?!??!?!

4. Why do you have on cords, a button down, and dress shoes while riding the elliptical?

I don't even know what to say about this one. It seriously just perplexes me. How is that possibly comfortable? And what was your rationale? Hmm, I really need to get a workout in, but I only have about 30 minutes for lunch. I know! I'll get back an additional 7 minutes if I forget about changing clothes and just go straight from my desk. Do you go back to your desk sweaty?? Do you blame the ring of sweat under your arms on the malfunctioning space heater under your desk? Is the crotch sweat stain (because there's always a crotch sweat stain, and if there isn't you weren't working out hard enough) blamed on the new guy in IT who came to fix your monitor this morning? I just don't get it.

5. Really? You're just gonna get on the treadmill right next to me even though there are 15 unoccupied ones in the gym and we're the only two people here?

Oh, ok. Just checking.

My people, my people.

Writing. Rambling. Sorry.

The funny thing about writing a blog is that you actually have to write the blog. Who'd have thunk it???

In the spirit of full disclosure, I'm currently staring at my screen waiting for a flash of inspiration to stri-- wait, was that it?!!!!

Nope. Just a little bit of heartburn from the Flamin' Hot Cheetos I'm eating for dinner. Classy, I know. Hope I don't stain my keys...

................... 45 Minutes Later...................

So, I gave up on writing and instead watched last week's episode of Fringe online. If you were a fan of The X-Files, The Twilight Zone, or Dawson's Creek, you totally need to tune in. What? Don't see the connection? Clearly those kids were aliens. Duh.

Whatever, I'm done with this. Enjoy the man candy. Even more enjoyable? The bad acting and even worse lace-front. Whoa boy. Talk about giving black women a bad name. Yikes.

I Hate You... Online

Since we're on the topic of social networking, let's talk about something else that really grinds my gears, Peter Griffin.

I try to be very honest and faithful to myself online. That is, I make every effort to seem, through the impression you get of me via facebook/twitter/blog, the exact same way I would seem if you were sitting directly across from me--beautiful, annoyingly slim, highly intelligent, ridiculously funny, and humble to a fault. :)

Unfortunately, 92.849% of the world does not follow this rule, and it perplexes me to no end why they don't. Even more annoying is the fact that most of the time, people seem MORE annoying through social media than they do in real life. I don't even know how this is possible. How can it be that I can spend 2 hours with you and find you exceedingly pleasant and fun to be around, but in the span of 140 characters on Twitter you've made me want to kick you in the kidneys, stab a pencil through my eye, and water-board my neighbor's cat all at the same time?

Are you going out of your way to sound like a pretentious know-it-all? Do you truly not understand that every time you tweet or update your status on facebook, some privileged 2520 in Ann Arbor stops driving his BMW in the middle of the road and starts crying because he's lost his position as the world's greatest douche?

So with that in mind, I'm offering up a few examples of how you can know if I currently hate the online version of you.

1. You tweet a celebrity congratulations on being knowledgeable about something you think is outside the general cultural reference. Ex. @kimkardashian Good looking on that Pulitzer Prize winning novel reference. I totally didn't think you were smart enough to read, much less understand AP English level writing. Go you!

2. You engage in humbly boastful status updates. Ex. Ugh, I wish all these people would stop asking me to tutor them! Like, is it my fault I got a 106% on the test? I just want to be valedictorian in peace! I knew I should've hidden my amazingly good ACT score when I got it, instead of taking pictures of it and posting it as my profile pic, tagging all my friends to it, and making it pop up in everyone's phone when they call me. GAWD, it's soooo hard being soooo smart.

3. You get upset when people respond to something you post On. A. Social. Networking. Site. Ex. @youtheidiot: Ugh, I hate tall brown girls. Like, they're just whack. @me: I mean... I'm inclined to disagree. Why do you feel that way? @youtheidiot: UMMM EXCUSE ME WORLD, JUST BECAUSE I POST SOMETHING, ON A SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE, WHERE THE POINT OF THE SITE IS TO TALK TO PEOPLE, DOESN'T MEAN I ACTUALLY WANT YOU TO RESPOND TO WHAT I'VE SAID, EVEN IF YOU AREN'T ACTUALLY ARGUING WITH ME BUT JUST MAKING A BENIGN COMMENT. DUH. But go read my blog/watch my video/buy a ticket to my play/get your hair done by cousin pookie and them anyway, k?

I hate you. I hate you all. But only internet you. Real life you is still cool peeps!

Social Network Investigation Unit, or, Is it weird I know so much about you?

Before I start, let me preface by saying that I *promise* I'm not as deranged as his post might make me sound. Seriously.

I have a crush.

Actually, I have two crushes- one a longtime issue, the other I'm convinced is simply a by-product of my unyielding single status. ::I get so loooonely, can't let just anybody hold me...:: Sorry. Anyway, these crushes have made me an EXPERT social network investigator. Facebook, twitter, blogs... wait, did I just say blogs? Is someone e-stalking me right now??? Is this real life?? Wait, what? Huh? Oh, social networking. Right. So our cultural desire to put our lives out on the Internet has made it exceedingly easy to find out all kinds of useful info about that certain someone I'm interested in at the moment. That's great.

The problem is, even though everyone cyber investigates (I prefer that term to stalking, seeing as how I'm 94.7% a lawyer and stalking is illegal...) no one is supposed to know that you've spent more time on their facebook page than 50 Tyson spends on YouTube demolishing the rap game (and that's not even his first love! He was born to be a ball player! That's skill yo). So now I find myself in these awkward situations where I'm thisclose to making a joke or referencing some obscure term said object of my affection buried in his "About Me" or 35 pages into his tagged photos, before I remember that I'm not supposed to know about that because I'm supposed to have a life. One that doesn't involve dissecting every comment left on his wall or @ on Twitter by any remotely attractive member of the opposite sex in order to determine if I'm gonna have to go all Wayne Brady on someone and slap a hoe. Cause you know, I go hard in the paint. Bow bow bow bow.

I feel like I need to keep a running list that has "Things he's told me or I could have reasonably found out through close mutual friends during general conversation" on one side, and "Things to never bring up first because it will totally show how much time you spend doodling his name with hearts around it and DEAR GOD THAT'S WEIRD" on the other. You know, just to be safe.

I know I'm not alone in my crazy.

Procrastination, the Genesis of all Creativity

Sooo, I guess I've started a blog. Does this make me a blogger? It seems rather pretentious to label oneself a blogger when you've written exactly 2.5 sentences. Hmmm... Sorry, I digress. To be clear, I have exactly zero idea what this blog will be about, except for the fact that it's going to include some reference to me. Unless you get tired of hearing about me. Then I'll talk about dogs. Or the weather. Or something. Whatever it takes to keep you reading, people!

In case for some inexplicable reason you managed to navigate to this site on your own, and not due to my nagging via twitter/facebook/gchat/phone calls/carrier pigeons/middle of the street assaults, I guess I could tell you a bit about myself. My name is Samantha and I'm a brown braided girl with thick thighs and full lips. (-_-) *If you didn't get that reference, shame on/good for you* I'm in my final year of law school at Georgetown University in D.C., but for some odd reason I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. Oops. I have a bunch of really good friends, but no special guy in my life. I got dumped. Just shy of two years ago. Haven't been on a date since. You know, I thought that was gonna sound less sad typing than it does saying, but NOPE, still sounds remarkably lame. Whoomp whoomp.

I'm a little bitter, just a little bitter... *name that song!* Anywho, I'm working on my love life. Eh.

Let's see, what else. Oh, my hair. It's natural, it takes a lot of time to do, and I'm constantly fighting the urge to go at it with a hacksaw. Wait, I don't actually own a hacksaw. I don't even now the last time I've seen a hacksaw in real life. Nevermind.

Shoes! I like them. Own lots of them. But no gym shoes. Except for the ones I work out in. That's called "being on your grown woman status" in the hood. Or so I've heard. I'm not actually from the hood, so I really wouldn't know. I am from Detroit, though! I like clothes too, oh and nail polish ::drool::, so maybe I'll talk about that stuff sometimes as well.

I'm currently working on my fitness, trying to get it right, get it right, get it tight, so I'm sure I'll have much to say about that. I'm currently down 31 lbs, with 21lbs to go before my first goal weight. Yikes, it's so much more daunting seeing it written out than saying it out loud. Maybe I'll go console myself with a cookie... To help myself on this journey, I've given up wine (ask any law student, this is a big, HUGE, deal) and candy for the month of November. It's gonna be a long month.

I like to read, A LOT, I'm slightly an introvert, and I wear glasses. Oh, and I'm 6'0 tall so sometimes my pants flood. I tried out for Revenge of the Nerds, but they said I was too stereotypical. Darn.

Final thing- I procrastinate. Forreal. Antoine Dodson. So, don't be surprised if many of these posts start or end with "I should be reading but..." I promise I get my work done... most of the time.

S.