more stars than in the heavens

not in our stars, but in ourselves

nothing doing (or: mid-week roundup, part x of y)

Some good old bartender thought the Boston Marathon finish line needed to be cleared off. Awww.

Some good old bartender thought the Boston Marathon finish line needed to be cleared off. Awww.

Well, we’ve survived Snowmageddon.  Massachusetts got well and truly clobbered with snow, though apparently New York City is butthurt that they don’t get to act superior about this one.  Ha.  Okay.  I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: New York is never superior.  No East Coast city is superior to Boston.  It’s just a fact.

I must say: we handled this one pretty well.  Governor Baker was not my choice last November, but he seems to have made all the right calls in preparing for and cleaning up after this storm, so I don’t think any less of him (yet).  People stayed off the roads yesterday, while the blizzard was raging; people have been trying to clear their sidewalks and driveways today; and it’s basically the best possible outcome we could have had for a storm of this magnitude. (In the Boston area, at least.  Some parts of the state have been less lucky, due to the goshdurn Atlantic being right there and all.)


Well, that’s the rest of the state.  How did it affect me, you ask?  Hardly at all, gentle reader.  I work at a big university, and they told us fairly early on Monday afternoon that we needn’t report for duty the next day.  Because my fella lives much closer to work (and civilization) than I do, I went over to his place.  On my way, I thought I might see how much of a mob scene the supermarket was, just so we could have sufficient snacks, but it was unreasonably busy.  The checkout line – despite all lanes being open – curved all the way past the registers, past the in-store Starbucks, past the fishmonger, past the butcher, past the freezers, past the dairy section, and around the back of the liquor aisle.  Not worth it for hummus and pita chips (and a few bottles of Malbec).  People were going nuts – but it was all good.  Mister had gotten plenty of vittles to last us a couple of days, and so we were snowed in and happy as could be.

And oh, the screen time we spent!  Hulu Plus, in addition to his extant Netflix subscription, proved a blessing.  We watched a lot of The Thick of It (my choice), Review (his choice), and Twin Peaks (both our choice – although getting through the icky, gooey middle bits of season 2 is proving to be a grueling task).  I introduced him to Diabolique (which you should really watch already, if you haven’t; if nothing else, it makes France look like a fucking dump, instead of the magical wonderland it’s usually portrayed as, and that’s novel enough to be interesting according to me), and we watched This Is Spinal Tap for a welcome reunion on familiar territory.  It was delightful.


It was also a lot of staring-at-a-screen.  Not that I especially enjoy being forced to work in order to be allowed to continue living, but I will be somewhat happy to do something productive for a day or two.

But one last point before I go: GYM ETIQUETTE.  I am a member of the gym at my work/university.  Yesterday, of course, it was closed.  Fair enough.  Today, it was open again, but only from 1:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.  When I got there, at about 1:15 p.m., it was PACKED.  It looked like January 1st.  It was terrible.  In fact, I didn’t leave until well after 4:00 p.m. – and it wasn’t because I was soaring to new heights in physical fitness.

Many of the people at my gym are, of course, students.  Usually, I don’t mind.  I minded today.  The gym is split into four floors: on the basement level, there’s the pool and some dance studios and squash courts and stuff like that; on the main level, there’s a lot of cardio equipment and some light weights; on the second floor, there are basketball courts and the main weight room; and on the third floor, there’s a track and a few boxing bags.  Today, I intended to do weights.  I did my usual upper body circuit, and then joined the line for a squat rack.  There are four squat racks, and there were about seven people (including me) waiting in line when I got there.  Normally, there are no people waiting.  It sucked.  It especially sucked because people were jerks.


Here are some things you should NEVER do while you’re using the squat rack, ESPECIALLY if there’s a line of people waiting:

– overhead presses.  there are actual machines/seats for this.
– jumping ahead of everyone else in line to “buddy up” with some random stranger who’s probably too shocked to say, “no, fuck off, let me finish and wait your turn.”
– not only jumping ahead of everyone else, but also inviting two other motherfuckers who cut in line to join you at the squat rack.
– ignoring the fact that there’s a dozen people in line waiting for a squat rack while you (a) text, (b) chat with your brosephs and brosephines, (c) consider the theory of weightlifting and really work through all the ramifications thereof, (d) do 900 sets of the same fucking thing, (e) some combination of all of the above.

Please.  Just use common sense.  I ended up waiting in line for about 45 minutes in order to do about 15 minutes’ worth of leg work.  Yes, I got to do everything I really needed to do, but I would have done more if (a) there weren’t a dozen people waiting in line behind me, and (b) I hadn’t been acutely aware of how thoroughly everyone in the other three squat racks was violating all of the aforementioned Don’ts.

All right.  Enough rage spiral for one day.  Back soon with proper Movie Thoughts, I promise.


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This entry was posted on January 28, 2015 by and tagged , .
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