Fantastic Weekend = Bloated Monday Morning

I don't remember the last time I rented 4 movies at once, but I did on Saturday. I picked one for everybody:

Funny People - Me (best choice, by the way)

G.I. Joe - Todd
Four Christmases - Becky

And I'm completely drawing a blank on the fourth one but it was the new cancer movie with Cameron Diaz, because sometimes I sort of want Jenny to cry without it being my fault.

I am a real fan of lounge weekends. I've been reading this delightfully sacrilegious book called "Lamb" by Christopher Moore. It is about the resurrection of Christ's childhood friend Biff. Biff is asked to write a more complete "gospel" about the early years with the messiah (who is named Josh in the story because Jesus is a Greek translation of Yeshua, which is Joshua). My wonderful Mormon friends and family would probably not get as much of a kick out of the book because, at 15, Jesus discovers coffee and goes on a healing frenzy, almost getting beat up after aggressively casting a demon from some guy's wife.

I think it's a great story and surprisingly endearing.

I laid on the couch in front of the window, wrapped in a thick fleece blanket and just read and dozed. On more than one occasion I woke up to see Abbi's smiling face about 2 inches from mine. I loved it.

We ate countless plates of nachos and played hours of pointless facebook games; cooking fake food, arranging non-existent jungle jewels, tending virtual farms. And yet, I did feel a small pang of guilt when I realized that I was neglecting my electronic fish. Poor Shiteater - sick from a lack of pixelated food and a dangerously high level of binary algae.

We stayed up late and let the girls climb into our bed first thing in the morning to watch hours of cartoons before actually getting started for the day. It never felt busy or rushed. Pure bliss.

It was the kind of weekend that leaves you in need of a strong laxative tea and at least an extra hour in the gym.

To top it all off, Jenny wrote me the sweetest blog entry I've ever read. As someone who is prone to public, written expressions of love... it hit me right in the sweet spot and left me with a lump in the throat. She was speaking my language, which I'm learning is such an important key in a relationship. The "treat others the way you would like to be treated" rule also works in reverse. How many times have I sent Jenny a naughty text message to express my fondness of her when doing the laundry would have been so much more effective? Oh well, we are constantly learning more about each other and using that knowledge to improve our marriage. It really is incredible to be in a Give-Give relationship.

Sadly, most of this world is filled with Give-Take relationships. You won't ever see a Taker with another Taker - it's too easy for them to spot each other. But a Taker will latch onto a Giver with ease, and the relationship works well... for a while. Both parties are having their needs met. But, it really is only a matter of time before the Giver gets emotionally/sexually/financially/(take your pick, really) exhausted.

I don't mean to group the earth's population into two groups, and I realize that a broad spectrum lies beneath this generalization, but if you're a Giver you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm sure I've written about this before - in fact I've toyed around with the idea of a book titled "Surviving as a Giver in a Taker's World" except I have absolutely no real credentials to speak of. I just know what it's like to feel like a prisoner in a relationship. And now, thanks to Jenny, I know how beautiful it can be when two people get together who are trying to "out give" each other.

The magic question to find out if you are the Giver in a Give-Take relationship is: "What would happen if I said 'no' to them?"

If you are terrified that they won't want anything to do with you and your usefulness will abruptly expire, I'm sorry, but you are.

Not quite sure how I ended up down this path, especially since I selected the action figures bagging a squirrel photo for this entry. But, hell, it's my blog and if I decide to soapbox midstream then eff it, I'm going to.

I've seen a lot of Give-Take relationships end, and it's usually a very messy ordeal. Sadly, it's almost inevitable - a matter of time - a clicking timebomb. It normally takes a Giver a long time to put their foot down. By that time many of them are so fed up that when they finally do, it comes down with a lot of noise.

Unfortunately, to add true fufillment to this type of relationship a genuine change has to take place within the Taker. The situation can't turn around without it. Hopefully we all know how futile it is to put our lives on hold while we wait for someone else to change.

Anyway, enough of that for now.

So, yeah, it was a great weekend. I guess the sensations of bloated and contemplative aren't mutually exclusive. Perhaps that's why so much of mankind's best thinking is done on the toilet.

Black Friday

Today, on the day after Thanksgiving, I am not shopping. Instead, I am sitting at my desk, eating free popcorn and feeling some residual gratitude. I am thankful that my office provides free popcorn. I am even more grateful that they selected the "Butter Lovers" variety.

It is a "Jeans Day" at work and I am thankful that I don't have to wear dress slacks. No dress slacks also means no tucking in, which is a huge bonus. I don't think tucking your shirt in is ever really justified unless you're a groom or a beekeeper.

I am grateful that "The Men Who Stare At Goats" is finally online.

I am thankful that the especially vivid car chase/gun fight dream I had last night WAS just a dream. I was very pleased to find the family minivan sitting unharmed in the driveway this morning.

I am thankful for my cute wife who, with a giant grin on her face, surprised me and our two young daughters this morning by saying, "Come have pie for breakfast!!" We all squealed with delight and raced to the table. I won.

I am thankful that there is not anything really wrong with my brain or hearing, because I could swear I heard birds all morning. It turns out that the cap on my 2-Liter of "Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi" was just a little loose. The thin stream of CO2 escaping was responsible for the whistling sound.

I am grateful for this cool place we currently live and the sightseeing it allows. On my way to work I drove within 50 yards of a hawk, a coyote, a peregrine falcon, and a camel. No lie.

No Pain, No Gain

I'm sitting in my cubicle and trying to type without letting my forearms touch the desk - a nearly impossible task. It feels like the radius and ulna bones of both arms have grown thousands of jagged little spikes. I'm beginning to wonder where the pain from tendonitis ends and the agony of compound fractures begins.

This weightlifting "hobby" has had some surprising results. I find myself reading more Men's Health and Muscle magazine articles. The last thing I want to do is become a gym-rat meathead, but adding a few extra pounds of upper body strength seems like a good idea on a number of different levels.

A couple of weeks ago I learned about doing "negatives" while benchpressing. You can do negatives by having spotters help you lower the weight slowly and then lifting it back up for you, or you can continuously increase the length of your extension while decreasing the weight.

You start by setting the bar about 12 inches below your full extension. You are strongest at the very top of your reach. By the time you finish, the rack is set low enough that you start with the bar practically on your chest.

Today I manged to lift 425 pounds at the top of my extension. Not a full benchpress, just one foot off the rack. But, still, I feel like that is a lot of weight and wanted to brag about it. To give that some perspective, I decided to convert it.

425 pounds equals:

213 Beto's breakfast burritos
1 Female Bengal Tiger

22.36 of those Indonesian 19-pound babies

5 supermodels

1,360 cans of tuna

850 Carl's Jr. Six Dollar Burgers

1/5 of a classic Volkswagen Beetle

GLad it wasn’t mUTTON

You know how they always say Texas does things bigger? Well, it really is true. I just walked through the biggest hotel I’ve ever seen. You first enter the atrium after pushing your way through elephant-sized revolving doors. There are fountains, rivers, waterfalls and a massive man-made canyon running through the enormous courtyard. The 7 stories of hotel rooms surrounding the atrium give it the feel of an indoor football arena.

We made our way along the river to the Riverwalk Café, passing one koi pond after another. The area surrounding the café is designed to look like the famous river walk in San Antonio.

I’ve been to Vegas, Mesquite, Wendover, and Empire Buffet in Layton, Utah. I am no stranger to all-you-can eat.

The Riverwalk Café, however, offers king crab, jumbo shrimp, filet mignon, prime rib, salmon in red pepper sauce, New York strip steaks, raspberry cheesecake, fresh watermelon water, a fajita bar, and much, much more.

I was three plates in before I even considered slowing down. I’d been warned that the food was good and to go hungry – very hungry. I filled up my fourth plate with desert and took an apple for the road. It was incredible.

I ate blindly, like a goldfish whose toddler owner has an over-zealous feeding hand. As I left the building, I called Jenny to rant and rave about how delicious the food was. But, during our conversation I realized that my breathing was strained. My stomach pushed uncomfortably against my belt.

By the time I reached the car, I was reminded of the Brian Regan bit about hospitals: “I feel like everything on my inside wants to be on my outside.”

I pulled out of the parking lot and made it about three blocks before I had to turn into another parking lot – this one belonging to a closed hunting supply shop. I yanked the emergency brake as soon I was behind the building. I jumped out of the car and made to the bushes behind the dumpster before all of that food made its escape.

Every directional aspect of the event was backwards. Incoming ports became outgoing ports. I tasted the meal in reverse, beginning with that delicious chocolate cake and ending with appetizers. The cilantro hummus WAS delicious when it was on its way in. I enjoyed it less on its way out my nose.

The odor of vomit clings to the nostril walls. The gag reflex feels sensitive and your awareness of it is surprisingly high, like a tooth with a new filling. Oncoming burps threaten, the way farts do during a bout of the runs.

Do I feel miserable? Yes. Do I think it was worth it? Yes. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.

Annoying Habits

“I think you might have sleep apnea” Jenny tells me after I wake up this morning. “You hold your breath for like 2 minutes straight and just make this really weird high-pitched noise. I nudged your leg and you started breathing again.”

I broke a molar on a Skittle a couple of weeks ago (I guess that’s what I get for interrupting my 2-month streak without sugar). I don’t have money for dental co pays right now, let alone cash to spend on special machines for people who can’t manage to multi-task well enough to sleep and breathe at the same time.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about these things while straining to keep two 100-pound dumbbells from falling on my face, but I am. Lifting weights has become my little escape from work. The weird thing is; I don’t even feel like lifting today. I’d rather go sit by the lake and relax.

“Anthem for the Underdog” is being pumped into my ears. I think I like this song so much because it reminds me of the day Jenny and I interviewed Red. 12 Stones played that song for their sound check while we were visiting with bassist Randy Armstrong. It’s pretty damn catchy, too.

A little drop of spit flies out of my mouth as I exhale for the 6th rep. I really don’t feel like lifting right now. My form gets weak on number 8 so I drop both weights. They hit the floor with two exaggerated thuds.

I sit up and look into the mirror. I’m sweating and wearing a dress shirt. Bad combination.

There are dark bags under my eyes. I smile a little because the beard stubble, sweat, and tired eyes make me look pretty sick. I’m wondering if I look bad enough to get sent home if I tell my manager, “I think feel the pig aids coming on.”

I’m walking out of the gym and the girl at the front desk says, “See you at six, Dan!”

That’s a little odd, I think. How could she know when my next break is?

But then I realize that I, Dan Workman, for the first time in my life, have developed a routine.

When I got transferred to the Texas office I was so excited to have a gym in the building. My goal was (and still is, unrealistic as it might be) to give Jenny a six-pack for Christmas. I’d been reading the Men’s Health and Fitness articles and many of them indicated that if I used more weight with less reps, I could maximize the overall impact of my workout. It is also a well-known fact that more muscle burns more calories throughout the day.

So, I made it my goal to go to the gym on every break. That is three times a day for a total of one hour. It’s been surprisingly effective. I’ve dropped about 5 pounds but I’m pretty sure I’ve added on muscle. In fact, in one month I’ve increased my max bench weight from 240 to 325. That’s 85 pounds in a month. I think that’s pretty good considering the hormones in cheap milk are the closest thing I have to steroids.

The strange part, however, was developing a habit without meaning to. The moment my break starts, I walk down to the gym. Even if I don’t want to, it’s like my legs are on autopilot.

So I'm starting to wonder if there’s something to this routine thing. What would happen if I immediately went jogging first thing in the morning for a month, or automatically picked up a book every time I felt like watching TV, or instinctively drank a glass of water every time I felt like having an Ultra-Violet Diet Mt. Dew?

Who knows, really? It’s all probably voodoo anyway. Plus, I really like TV.

So I Bought You Socks Instead

(For Jenny)

I awoke today in an excellent mood.
You were standing there smiling and holding food.

A plate of eggs, and coffee too.
Through my morning breath I utter, “Dang, I love you!”

I finish eating, and exit the room
So very happy you made me your groom

“Thanks, babe! That sure was delicious!”
“Not only that,” you say, “but also nutritious!”
With that ever-so-kissable sweet but sly grin,
You ask, “Did you notice the broccoli I decided to throw in?”

I knew right then and there that I wanted to do something special today,
Something unexpected and extraordinary to show that I love you in every way.

What would I do? What could I buy?
My dilemma was complex, too difficult to rhyme.

So, I axed the poem format and decided to just brainstorm possible gift ideas. Just like working through a bag of peanut butter M&M’s, it was a process of elimination.

At first, I thought about lingerie. I could buy you something scantly and silky, weighing approximately as much as a sparrow’s fart. But then I thought, no, that’s really not a gift for her.

I thought about that dog you rescued today, and how sweet you are with animals, so I thought about getting you a puppy. But then I thought, no, she’s already doing potty training right now with Abbi. That would be too many potty watches to keep dry.

So, I thought maybe I’d get you a new chick-flick DVD, maybe something with a quirky lead female character and a devilishly handsome male “friend” who gives her a lot of crap but secretly understands her. And maybe he helps her land the guy she’s wanted for years, but once she has him, she realizes that he’s kind of an ass to waiters/kids/animals/cab drivers and suddenly realizes that she misses the guy who drove her insane 45 minutes earlier in the film. So she goes to visit him but happens to walk in just when he’s being passionately kissed by her secretly evil best friend/bridesmaid/sister/roommate/mother and decides to run away. He’s forced to chase her by acquiring a stolen horse/car/golf cart/child’s bike and just happens to make it in time to see her leaving on her boat/plane/train/bus and, out of breath, curses and looks really broken-hearted. But then, just when all seems lost he finds her at a crowded party/wedding/bat-mitzva/corporate meeting and proceeds to confess his undying love to her in front of everyone. They kiss, and we presume that the rest of their lives together are free of problems. I was going to buy you one of those movies, but then I realized I just written one.

I thought about buying you a bar of that symphony chocolate with toffee that you like, but I know that you would say something about all of the leftover Halloween candy we already have.

I thought about buying you a gift certificate to get your nails done, but I know how those drive you crazy after a while.

And then, after all of those ideas, I thought about the way you smile when I wrap you up in your favorite blanket. I thought about the way you love to feel secure and warm. So, I took my lingerie/puppy/chick-flick/chocolate/free nails money and got online to buy you…

…10 pairs of super comfy socks.

The "Douchebag Ex-Boyfriend" Prose - Letter of Apology

So, I wasn’t really sure how to tell you this, but I’ve been feeling like I owed you an apology. I was kind of a dick there at the end, you know, bad mouthing you and all. I made fun of you in front of your friends and even pointed out some of your flaws. That wasn’t cool. I shouldn’t have done that.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, we go way back. You’ll always be a part of my life. I guess I was just getting bored of the relationship. We’ve had good times and bad times, and I let myself focus on the bad. I’ll admit it, I still think about you sometimes.

I’ll be the first to say that you are absolutely smoking hot in the summer. I love it. Spring and Autumn are just fine, too. But you were always such a bitch in the winter; I couldn’t help but get a little distant. You put on that winter weight and get all frigid. I have to be honest, when you have that time of the year, I’m just not that attracted to you.

Like I said though, I shouldn’t have been trashing you in front of everyone. We really have had some great times, Utah. I loved getting up into your peaks whenever I could – and don’t even get me started about the times I went south! Good times. Good times.

I know we had that little falling out last year, when I started dating your roommate, Wyoming. But, Wyoming was a lot of fun, I won’t deny it. She was laid back and uncomplicated. I loved to just run my fingers through her air while we were driving - it smelled amazing. And don’t even get me started on her stars!

But, Wyoming was just a fling. You took me back and things were… well, they were okay I guess. I just don’t think we were ever the same after that.

And I talked a lot of shit, I shouldn’t have done that. But then, out of nowhere, this big steamy blonde walks in and I can’t take my eyes off her! You remember Texas, right? You used to be neighbors. Well, we had a great week together and she showed me an incredible time. I was love-struck. I got all wound up on barbeque and margaritas and before I knew it, she was asking me to move in. What was I supposed to say, Utah?! Huh? You tell me! The roughest year of our relationship and you decide to rain all June? Didn’t score yourself any big points there. Air quality warnings all winter?! I don’t mean to be a jerk, but if you aren’t letting me go outside I’m bound to start looking for it somewhere else. In the words of Stephen T. Colbert: “It’s a hungry dog that turns over the trash.”

Things are good here with Texas. You know, there’ve been some problems, normal new relationship stuff. She’s got this annoying habit of making simple things harder than they need to be. Hell, her roads make even your roads look good! But, between you and me, she’s been around a time or two! Some days I think she’ll let just anybody in.

One of my friends put up a blog post about their fall activities. And, well, there they were – your mountains in the background. You had on that sexy, flashy little fall number – you know the one. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look twice! Never really did get tired of staring at those mountains. Truth be told, I actually feel a little disoriented without them.

Anyways, I’m not sure why I decided to write you. I guess I just feel a little guilty for being so hard on you. I was kind of an ass. I’m not saying I’m ready to get back together just now. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you. We’ll talk again when you’re done with your winter cycle.