Oh, the wonders of an iPod.
Like most homo sapiens of the masculine persuasion, there's nothing to renew vision and restore enthusiasm like getting a new toy (or discovering a new feature on an old one).
In the midst of dredging up the energy to get my less-than-enthused bod into the gym this morning, I remembered I recently bought an arm-holster for my iPod - it's basically a holder that straps onto your arm with a pocket for the music machine, so you can wear the iPod while you work, hang out, etc.
Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles...suddenly I'm jamming around my pad to the rasping croons of Roger Daltrey, backed by the thunderous thumping of Keith Moon (my favorite ex-rocker who died of excess - alcohol poisoning in his case - much better than choking on a ham sandwich like Mama Cass, and I bet she never drove her Rolls Royce Silver Shadow into a hotel swimming pool).
I've got tunes!!!! Sweet.
In a heartbeat, my mood went from definite doldrums to dancin' fool. YESSS!
Unfortunately, the iPod didn't make me any stronger or fitter (when THAT version comes out, sign me up) - but it sure made the workout more fun, and that's two thirds of the battle of the bulge - if pounding weights and climbing hills was more fun than stuffing Ben & Jerry's down your throat from the comfort of your living room sofa, everyone would be doing it.
Another note - my nephew Max is in town. I know this because I picked him up at the airport and took him to In-n-Out for a burger the other night - it was his idea and his treat, and you've never seen a 17 year old so proud to fork over seven dollars and thirty four cents in your life. That's because he's now a working man - has his own money and everything. You go dude.
Now he's off to the Anime Expo with mutant friends, spiked hair, chin pubes, and a costume he made himself (with help from the noted costume designer Grandma), including a four-foot pair of home-made scissors - and if you need me to explain any of this to you, remember - he's seventeen - because that's the only explanation you're likely to get.
And now it is time to express profound gratitude and humbly acknowledge the gift of freedom and self-determination bestowed upon us in this country by those with the vision, courage, and fortitude to say nay to the rule of distant bureaucrats from across the Atlantic Ocean (we choose to be ruled by our own bureaucrats, grown locally thank you very much), to give thanks for the opportunity to live in our country and make our own way.
Which means I'm off to the beach for bodysurfing, blond-gazing, and frisbee-frollicking, punctuated by a barbequed ribeye, well-done, with just a hint of hickory flavor - a fine way to celebrate the birth of our nation (I just got a mental image of Thomas Paine in surfer jams and dreads, hanging 10 on an eight foot curl - a Founding Father my nephew could chill with - they could share iPods).
Happy 4th!
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