I have to go buy my dad a Christmas present, a shirt or something, and the best place to do that is the Ubermall, which I abhor, and is probably going to be a nightmare today. Yeah, I could shop other places first. I know I'm going to wind up at the Ubermall. I want to spend as little time doing this as possible.
I aced my Kinesiology test. Happy Dance.
I got presents for my Mom, my Mom's best friend, and for Kristin and Lisa, who I might see if they can bop down from Chicago. Happy Dance.
As of yesterday, I'm going to be singing in my church's Christmas Eve service. I'm not doing a solo, I'm simply singing in the choir. I don't even have a choir solo. I'm nothing special. Which is what I'm used to being in that place. Which is a whole blog post in itself, which I might write one of these days. But the point is, this time, the choir is a bunch of good singers who I really liked rehearsing with last night, and we are being directed by someone I know very well and have a lot of respect for. Someone I wish I was closer to. Someone who, when she calls and asks me to be part of something, I can't turn down, regardless of my past hurts and bitterness. This service, this time, will be a positive experience. My Piano Man is accompanying the service. I'm anticipating a nice feeling that I don't have very often: being surrounded by good people, doing something I love, just for an hour, on Christmas Eve.
Happy Dance. I hope I will be posting about that.
Ever since I got my teeth filled, they actually hurt more. One of them is very sensitive to pressure, which the dentist told me was something I need to be alert to. It's a sign that there is a problem. Great. So I have no idea what he's going to do, but I hope I don't have to endure his re-doing those teeth, or god knows what else. Oh, and fuck you very much to the MTA, who decided to have their Transit Strike on the day of my next dental appointment rather than on Friday like they were supposed to. OF ALL THE DAYS THEY COULD DO IT THEY HAVE TO PICK TUESDAY. Like I'm not stressed out enough.
Angry Dance.
Yesterday, I went to G's gym and lifted weights, and worked up a sweat on an elliptical machine. I'm as much of a gym person as he is, but this is not the first time I've done this. I actually find myself loving how it feels to work out, and loving how I feel after a workout. Part of that whole health kick I've been on, I guess. So, yesterday, G made things official and negotiated a three-month limited membership for me. My schedule is so screwy that I'll likely only be able to go on weekends (PLEASE LET ME GET THAT JOB), so the Gym manager gave us a deal. So now I can pump up and lose that ass I've grown and be able to lift things heavier than a remote control and all that cool shit. Happy Dance.
I bought scallion potato bread yesterday. It's delish. Happy Dance.
Sigh.
Now I really have to dance off to the mall.
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1 comment:
Oh Frank. If your archives were open, I'd point my readers to your post of nine months ago.
And hey, a gay literary bodybuilder? That sounds like the next logical step for California. I'd vote for you!
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