My head is just bumbling about with all kind of junk today. I could barely walk up the gym for all the "Oh wait, whazzat?"'s that were going on. I bet if you plucked me off the sidewalk and dropped me on one in Manhattan I would've blended, or been a victim real fast.
I was walking up the hill, pushing the buggy, trying to open my diet Red Bull, balance my workout water bottle, unzip my coat but halfway down I thought "I don't want anyone to see my ass in spandex this early in the morning," so I zipped it back up - only to remove the coat entirely another 50 steps later up the hill. I contemplated the whiteness of my sneakers, the new blooms on the bushes and the way blackbirds would make great military pilots because they are fearless in the face of a Land Rover. I skipped over dog pooh and sang songs with Shortie. After a half mile of this I was exhausted!
When I finally got into the gym, and Shortie into the nursery, I hit that gym and tried to go all hella for it. But remember I have been marshmallow bingeing. Oh my fuck. It was awful! I couldn't pedal, my legs were stiff and sore and it hurt! Marshmallows, I seethed, and began to pedal for my life, my limbs, and to melt the damned mallow out of my joints. It honestly felt like I wads of sticky, cloying mallow in my knees and hips and the only way to clear them off was to melt them with big bursts of body heat. My inner Sargeant was shouting "I want you to sweat vanilla! I want to be able to smell cookies! I want people to follow you around because you smell like homebaked goodness - sweat those fucking marshmallows out of every fucking pore NOW!" (ok admitting I talk to myself like that was very embarrassing) I may only be meat, but at least I'm sweet. (I can't get this out of my head ever since Doug put it up on his blog....well one of his blogs he has lots of them, well the one you can click over on the right. Careful though, he likes to play Doctor *wink*)
I was the bounciest, the boingiest, freakiest girl in the gym - I was banging my head like I was a moshpit diva - but the music was poptastic (I must get a MP3 player) . I was bounding about on this bike for 15 minutes, push, push push. Then it was the elliptical and I gave it a good thrashing too. I marked it as my own territory by sweating all over it (but I did a wipedown with a baby wipe after, so it was all clean and smelled of powder) Rage against the Mallow! One of the regulars who's a fitness trainer stopped me and commented how much I appeared to enjoy my workout. I like to be amusing, I need to be amused. Attacking the mallow in my bones (no, shit, that's marrow) was fun. She said she wished all her clients were like me. Awww...I was seriously touched. Not for long though, because after my weight sets, It was time for some mallow squishing on the stair climber. I think I've now won the Mallow-wars.
I keep having conversations in my head with people, but I think I've actually had words with the other person. I'm daydreaming a lot, and it's getting dangerous, because at some point I'm going to say something stupid to someone and they're going to be like "what the hell are you on about?" and I'll realise I only pretended to speak with them. It's happened before. I once asked this guy how his sister was doing since she moved to Seattle. He was confused, I then regaled the entire conversation I'd had with him, about his sister and her boyfriend moving to Seattle and how he was looking to transfer to a university near her so he could travel the west coast; complete fiction the guy never even had a sister. Do you see why I keep quiet a lot of the time?
Here I shouldn't bother, I should just paint the walls with my weird thoughts and pretend conversations. I know I should, but that's a daydream, this is active action. Very different functions. I often wonder if I've recited the world's best story pitch in my head, only to have forgotten it ten minutes later when life intrudes.
I'm craving some tongue stripping curry, I'll be around.