Just your typical week

I’d like to know who designed the sensors on toilets. You know, the automatic flush? Seriously. Because it never auto flushes when I’m actually done, but usually halfway through – the bidet effect. Bidets are okay if you are expecting to use a bidet, but when it takes you by surprise, look out! I try to keep my torso still while stretching my arm for the toilet paper, but invariably I move just a little too much for those happy flushers and KER-SPLASH! Surprise! But then, just try to get it to flush when you want it to. You get up off the toilet, move a little to one side, then to the other... before you know it, you’re doing this insane toilet shuffle dance in your stall. But the secret is to keep your feet still so nobody outside can tell you’re boogieing in there. Unfortunately your feet are usually pointing towards the back wall at this point since you’re looking to see if it’s going to flush, so probably everyone is wondering how a man snuck into the ladies’ room anyway. And a dancing man at that. After you wave your hand up and down and shake your body all around (throw in a little hokey pokey if you’re really into it), please just admit defeat. The flush is LAUGHING at you. Just cave in and press the little button. They try to hide it because they like seeing you squirm (and by they I am of course referring to the little flushing gremlins who work the auto flush) but it’s there. Since you have to press the button yourself every time anyway, it makes you wonder why they spent a million dollars per toilet anyway. But it’s their nickel I guess. And I think the inventors of the auto flush also operate the sensors at traffic lights because THOSE never work for me either. But since certain watches stop ticking when placed on my wrist, and debit cards never work when I have to swipe them myself, I’m beginning to think it may just be me and my delightfully magnetic personality.
I had a treadmill war the other day. I got onto #3 (which, not surprisingly, is located between #2 and #4) and started off with a brisk warm-up walk, which was Walk button plus .5 mph. #2 was walking also, but cranked hers up a couple of notches to match my pace. After 2 minutes, I pressed Jog, which took me to a 5 mph pace. #2 also pressed Jog. After a minute of Jog I realized it was too slow and I pressed Run (7 mph, or 8.5 minute mile). #2 let out this disgusted noise somewhere between a sigh and a snort, and pressed Run also. (Maybe she didn’t know that I saw her but she actually pressed Run and then down two notches – slacker) After 10 minutes of Run she was grunting, and I pressed Jog to take a drink of water. This time her sigh was Relief with a capital R, so when I pressed Run again after 1 minute she was not amused. She kept darting these dagger looks at me as she’s gasping for air – c’mon! I’m just doing my own thing here! After another 10 minute set I Jogged for another drink and then Ran – that was it; she slammed her hand into Stop and stormed off. I got to chuckling and nearly fell off the treadmill like my friend did (not naming names here but it starts with “S” and ends in “andy”). I got serious and finished with another 10 minute Run.
It is only 2 weeks to my triathlon, after all. I got in another good run on Thursday, yesterday I cycled but only for 30 minutes, and today I did a killer cardio class which involved some boxerfit moves. I haven’t done that since before we were married so those muscles aren’t exactly thanking me today. I am drinking a ton of water and find myself in the bathroom constantly.
Which was the scene of my most recent humiliation. We were at the airport waiting to pick Mike up from Fargo, ND (geek conference, lost luggage, snow) and we paid a visit to the restroom. (how come I have no trouble using the terms restroom, bathroom, ladies’ room, toilet interchangeably but if I ask where’s the bathroom in LA they look at me blankly until they say oh, you mean the RESTROOM like they’re so completely different and I must be a moron) The only stall big enough for Jack, Ethan, and me is a wheelchair one at the end and once I determined that we weren’t taking the spot of a needy wheelchair occupant, we went into that one. The lock was broken, but Ethan was already peeing so I figured ok, we’ve committed to this one. When it’s my turn I said, as specifically as possible, “The lock is broken on the door, okay? So please don’t touch the door because it will swing open and I don’t want it open while I’m on the toilet, okay?” Ethan tucks into the corner and Jack nods solemnly. I sit down and half way through Jack starts to move towards the door (you knew it was going to be him, right? Because if anyone is going to pretend not to hear me, it’s going to be him. And he has to do it so darn cute-like which is infuriating because you still want to squeeze him and eat him all up. But I digress) as I say “Jack, noooooo”. He throws a look over his shoulder at me and gives one little one-finger push (like Nemo touching the boat with his fin; you know what I’m talking about) and the door swings wide, wide into the aisle. I’m panicking but can’t exactly MOVE at this given moment, and Ethan, God bless him, blocks anyone’s view of me, reaches for the handle and swings the door shut. Jack leans back against the other wall with this “Oh” look on his face as in “Oh, I’m going to get it now but I’m sure glad I did that anyway”. I was mad but since nobody in the restroom actually saw me, the only thing I did was took away the star he’d earned at dinner for good behaviour + no accidents.
He’s actually already earned his first prize – a binder with hockey card inserts for all his cards. Ethan needs one more star to get that, and he’s dying for it. He’s more into hockey anyway (he’s outside playing as I write) and he’s got more cards to put in there too. Jack got to 10 (which sounds good but we’ve actually been doing it for about 60 days) and he’s now at 2 on the second round. Ethan’s at 9, first round, but now he’s seen the prize he’s a little more motivated.
I went to see Chris Rock this week. He was very funny. Raunchy, racial, but funny. The opening act was hysterical too; I had tears pouring down my face and my cheeks hurt. It’s so hard to remember what he said and how he said it but it was something about mutes and cell phones. Chris Rock himself was great, although I found myself swearing a lot the next day. Guess it was catching!
That’s it for now, see you next week!