I realize I haven’t written about Mustang in quite a while. The truth is, I haven’t seen him in months. I actually don’t think he works out at my gym anymore. What shocks me about it, is that he never gave me any warning he was leaving. When I told him once I was thinking of moving to another gym, he just about cried, so I find it odd that he didn’t tell me. My guess? He was so heartbroken over chasing me for 2 years and getting nowhere that he just ran away from the gym.
I do have a new gym stalker though. I call him Wayne, cause he reminds me of someone I know named Wayne, but I’ve never asked for his real name. He came up to me while I was on the leg curl machine once and asked if I was at some fundraiser the week before. I responded by laughing hysterically and told him I thought it was hilarious for anyone to assume I volunteer.
I was hoping he would then think I was a bitch, but it hasn’t seemed to deter him. He approaches me every single time I’m at the gym. If I don’t play my cards right, he’s going to ask me out really soon.
A little off-topic from my regular stuff, but I’ve been angry about this for a few days.
A few days ago, I had to meet with my company’s health benefits administrator. For my unfortunate American friends, yes, we have free health care, but there are still a few things that aren’t covered by our taxpayers like chiropractic care and dental. I love the Canadian health care system. I’ve never had any serious illnesses or anything, but for the most part, it’s pretty amazing…especially after watching Michael Moore’s Sicko film.
But one thing that came up during our meeting was how preventative care is not covered. If I ate like a pig for all my life and never exercised, I would have no problem getting treatment for my type 2 diabetes and obesity. But, as a fit and healthy adult, I can’t get advice from a nutritionist or have my gym membership paid for. It’s not even tax deductible.
Because of my experience as a fitness competitor, personal trainer and FitDarcie, I’ve learned a lot about fitness and nutrition over the years. I just about peed my pants the other day when a coworker walked into my office telling me that fruit was a carbohydrate. How can an adult not have known that? Over the weekend, I had another woman tell me that green tea had health benefits. Are you kidding me? I know all this stuff off the top of my head. I know exactly how I feel after eating a bag a chips. I know what chocolate does to my skin. I know that if I don’t go to the gym, I will probably wake up a few times during the night. I know that if I’m irritable, it’s probably because of something I ate.
All these things are common knowledge to me, and, all of it, I learned on my own. But what about the lazies out there who don’t like to learn new things? Why can we not force them? Why can’t we say, sure, you can have free health care, but you have to tell me 3 foods in which you can get omega 3 fatty acids, and why you would want those. I get so pissed off when a grown man comes to tell me he’s just discovered that drinking water has more benefits than just to flush out the system.
A few days ago, I overheard this woman, in hospital scrubs, telling another woman in the changeroom that she’d just finished a 12 hour shift. This was at about 8pm. And she was at the gym. Last night, I couldn’t resist asking her about it….my mom is a nurse, and growing up, we learned that after a 12 hour shift, you just let her collapse on the couch.
This woman, gets up at 5:30am to make it out the door by 6:30, works from 7:30am to 7:30pm, running up and down hallways, treating patients, blah blah blah, gets on the bus for an hour, and come straight to the gym. I told her I thought it was phenomenal that she did that…I had trouble forcing myself to go on a Wednesday after sitting at my desk for 8 hours. She told me that she can’t figure out how anyone can NOT do it, that she never misses a day, and that she’s lost over 100lbs over the last few years.
This woman has to treat fat slobs who refuse to take care of themselves all day, then comes in and works out for 2 hours. To any of you who say you don’t have time, fuck you. Tell me where you live so I can come to your house and run you over like Michael Bryant on his wedding anniversary.
For a few years in a row, I participated in a 10k run through a meadow. It was called the Mud run. Tons of fun, highly recommend it, even if you aren’t a runner.
So, a while back, Shelly, who works in the television industry, was contacted by someone she knows who runs the mud run, and they needed someone who wasn’t camera shy to go on Canada’s MTV Live and talk about how awesome it is. Naturally, I was the perfect candidate. I LOVE being on camera.
I had never heard of MTV Live up to that point…it’s basically a talk show for teenagers. The topic that day was cleanliness or something like that, and so I was supposed to go on and give a little spiel on the mud run. My directives were pretty clear, wait for the cue “We have someone here from the Mud Run to talk about it” after the second commercial break, and give my feedback. I was handed the blue microphone.
The second commercial break is over of this live program, and the dude asks the question “So, who has a good story about men or women being the dirtier sex? Blue mic.” This wasn’t my cue. He’d mistaken the previously arranged good story with the girl with the red mic. And I panicked. The show was live, the camera was on me, and the microphone was turned on. I naturally said men were the dirtier sex, and gave the first example that popped into my head.
I told a story about my ex pleasuring himself, and leaving discarded tissues all over the apartment.
On national television.
Live.
Immediately after, my REAL cue came, and I embarrassed the organizers of the Mud Run, and Shelly. Still feel super bad about that.
I thought nothing of it, really. Who the hell watches MTV Live anyway? Who the hell watches Canadian programming in the first place? Certainly no one that would recognize me. It was live, and started at 5pm, so really, no one would have watched it anyway. I called my sister and told her that she didn’t miss anything, my performance was lame, and I got no camera time. Lord knows I wouldn’t want her to see that, or hear that story. While on the phone she says “Oh wait. It looks like they air the show again at midnight. I’ll set my DVR.”
Oh shit.
Hoping that she wouldn’t be able to figure out the DVR in the first place, I let it slide.
Then the 7am call the next day.
Sister: What the hell were you thinking?
FitDarcie: Uhm. What are you talking about?
Sister: That’s the most disgusting story I’ve ever heard.
FitDarcie: Uhm. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Sister: First thing this morning, Cousin T called, said he saw you on TV while eating his cereal (apparently they air MTV Live repeatedly), so I watched the recording. You’re an idiot.
FitDarcie: When you say recording, what exactly do you mean?
Sister: I mean that I’m showing this to everyone.
FitDarcie: FOR THE LOVE OF GOTCH! PLEASE SPARE OUR POOR DEAR MOTHER.
She didn’t spare our poor dear mother. I have been banned from publicly speaking by my family forever.
As a single girl, I like to complain a lot about not being able to find a decent man. 99 times out of 100, I am kidding. I can get any man I want. I find it ironic that someone of my league can’t get a guy to take me to the movies. What I can’t stand, is when people try to tell me what I am doing wrong. “Maybe you act too domineering”; “Maybe you need to lower your standards”….and my personal favorite “Maybe you make yourself too available.”
Ladies and gentlemen: I am doing nothing wrong. It is true that I am perfect in every way, and I’m not going to go on and on about that. What grinds my nerves, is that people feel they need to point out what they perceive as my flaws. My life is not tragic. I think it’s hilarious.
Dear Friends and Acquaintances: When I say “Man, it’s so tough to meet a man out there”, please wait a few seconds for the punchline, it’s usually hilarious, then respond with “Haha! You have the best stories! I hope you never settle down!”
Yesterday I had one of those rediculously lazy days, where I ate nothing but Doritos and Hershey’s chocolate and watched sitcoms on Deja View. I learned something though, about the wives of funny guys. They nag a lot and are all brunettes.
Wife #1- Everybody Loves Raymond
Patricia Heaton plays Deborah. Deborah has always pissed me off. She’s very needy and whiny. At the end of pretty much every episode, Raymond has to apologize. I’m all for the wife always being right, but she’s just a little rediculous.
Wife #2- Home Improvment
It’s an oldie, but don’t deny you still watch it when it’s on. Patricia Richardson was also naggy, but in a less annoying way. Isn’t it odd that so far all the wives I watched yesterday have a real-life name of Patricia?
Wife #3- King of Queens
Leah Remini plays Carrie. I have no idea how anyone can stand this woman. You can tell she’s a bitch in real life. Then again, she’s married to a fat guy, so who can blame her? Though I suspect if she hadn’t gotten this gig, she’d be dancing on a pole somewhere.
So, I’m already a brunette, all I need to do is develop a bit of a nag, maybe change my name to Patricia, and I can marry a funny guy.
An untold story about Mustang. Back when I was unemployed, I’d have a day or two of complete misery. I’d find myself at the gym, completely uninterested in working out, and looking downright depressed. Mustang had picked up on this at one point, and I poured my heart out about how useless I felt.
He was really sympathetic, and kept trying to tell me that something would come along soon (I HATED it when people said that. Fuck you glass-half-full assholes). Then he said “To cheer you up, I’ll take you for wings sometime.” I can’t remember my exact response, but I either changed the subject, or said “sure….sometime.”
I dont’ think that’s a real invitation out. That’s saying sometime, in a galaxy far, far away, we’ll go out. There was no commitment there. It was a wussy way to do it…where if I said “no”, he’d be able to convince himself he didn’t ask me on a date. It required zero balls whatsoever.
I brought this up when I was out with a friend last night who we’ll call Andrew. He says that was a full-on ask out. Can my readers weigh in on this please? Was it an ask-out, or a cop-out?
I was thinking of this loser I used to date. He thought minivans were cool. I am not joking. We got into a massive argument about it once.
The reason I was thinking of him was because of this hole balloon boy incident. You know, where the kid’s family wanted to be on reality tv so they caused an entire city/country/earth to freak out? I was thinking…these people are just nuts. They have no concept of reality or not.
And this guy that I dated would probably have been all it. He was that stupid. He one time tried to convince me that if we went to a completely moneyless society (not just cashless and still using debit and credit cards, but no money/currency), that everyone would work for the sake of society, and the world would essentially not change. I should let you know that at the time, he had no job and was living off my student loans, which I still pay faithfully every month. I asked him who would pick up the garbage? Certainly if there was no financial reward, no one would do it. He said the same people would, because that was their place in society.
That was an actual conversation.
I think about that guy, and I think about how pretty much everyone I meet now is WAY better than that. It’s amazing that I never grabbed up the next, normal, non-minivan-loving man and married him.
I love Facebook. I love to be able to log on and see pics of my friend’s trip to Africa, I love finding out who from high school is married or got fat, I love getting invites to parties where I can look them up quickly. It definitely has its drawbacks. I’ve already written about how it’s changing dating here and here. I still loathe the status on there. If you’re not married, just leave it out. The whole “It’s complicated” thing…really? Do you need to say publicly that you are in a bad relationship?
Anyway, the who-do-you-friend conversation has come up lately. More importantly, who do you defriend? I recently went through a Facebook cleanse where I eliminated people that I’d never met in person (not you Fred). While I was working in the social media world, there were a lot of people that I e-knew, but had never met. They are all gone. I don’t think it would hurt their feelings to find out.
I have a friend who only keeps friends that she talks to on a regular basis on Facebook. Fine. But I find I only talk to certain people because Facebook exists. But, are all the people on my Facebook “real friends”? I decided that Facebook should come up with a new term for the people you allow to view your Facebook page. Let’s call it “People I allow to view my Facebook page”. Now, I’m going suggest some other, more descriptive categories:
1) People I went to high school with: These are people you at one time might have had some sort of bond with, but if it weren’t for Facebook, you would never speak to them. Ever.
2) People I drink with: These are the people you sit in a bar with and tip back a few.
3) People that cause me to drink: These aren’t the same people as above. You drink around them for other reasons.
4) People I want to be besties with: These people someone haven’t realized how high I am on the social totem pole, and that makes me want to hang out with them even more
5) People I want to sleep with: Enough said.
6) People who may take out restraining orders on me: These are people who I spend a better part of my life Facebook-stalking. If they knew, they’d be afraid.
Did I miss any?
This past weekend, I went to catch up with an old colleague who was in town on an overnight layover. I went up to the airport hotel he was staying at to have drinks in the bar. This guy travels for work quite a bit, so I’m meeting up with him at that same hotel, at that same bar about twice a year. He doesn’t read my blog (shame on him), so I get to tell him 6 months worth of FitDarcie Epics every time I see him. One of my favorite things about this guy, is that he doesn’t feel sorry for me, like some assholes out there, nor does he try to offer me advice. I hate it when people offer me unsolicited advice, usually because I am way smarter than them. He just listens to my stories.
Every time I go, I usually end up captivating everyone at the bar with my tales and dating woes. This time, I had one extremelly drunken fan repeat over and over again that he would treat me so well if he were my boyfriend. I was flattered, but he was insanely annoying.
Something occurred to me while I was there…everyone at the bar was there to meet a stranger. This was an airport hotel, so everyone in the hotel was in town for a brief period of time, but didn’t want to go straight to bed. They all want a bit of conversation before going to bed alone. What a perfect place to hang out! I’ve always thought I should hang out at bars near airports to meet pilots, but meeting other individuals never occurred to me. I’m not big into one-night stands, that’s not what I’m getting at…but what about having 10 boyfriends in 10 cities? If I could find the type that travel often, I’d be seeing him once every month or so…no stress.
The downside is having to stay sober for the drive home. But wait! That problem is solved by being in a hotel! I could just get a room for the night. If it gets to be too expensive, I could always sleep off a buzz in the airport; that’s probably the only place in the world where’s it socially acceptable to sleep on a bench.
Once again, I proven I am genius.
This story is making the rounds with my friends so I thought I’d clear the air on what really happened.
Friday night, myself and two of my friends headed to Canada’s Wonderland’s “The Haunt”. It’s a haunted house held at an amusement park just north of the city. I knew that it entailed 12 different haunted houses set up around the park, but other than that, I had no idea what to expect. The last time I had ever been to a haunted house, I was 16 years old, and it was held in the art gallery in North Battleford.
Walking up to the gates, my idiot friends stood in the longest line. Being the smart-cookie that I am, I picked out the fastest moving line, and was in the park within 30 seconds. I didn’t realize that ghouls would be standing around the front gates. I was expecting to have to walk to see freaky people.
My eyes got stuck on a very tall caped man with a bloody face. He was like 7 feet tall. I kept staring at him to see if it was just a tall costume over his head, and it wasn’t. He noticed me staring at him, and started making his way towards me. I scanned the gates looking to see if my friends had made it in yet. Nothing. This ghoul was making his way closer to me. I kinda got creeped out, so I moved to the side where I bumped into another ghoul. This guy didn’t have blood on his face or anything like that. He was wearing a suit. On the subway at 11pm, I wouldn’t have noticed him, but standing right next to me, his white face and glowing eyes made my heart skip a beat. I moved to the other side where I bumped into another ghoul. My heart started racing, I scanned the lineups once more. No friends. What? Did they leave me? Were they watching from afar being amused by this? I stepped back and bumped into a bloodied woman holding what looked like a human arm.
And that was my breaking point. I was cornered. No where to run. The tall guy was going to hold me down while the girl in the maids outfit was going to chop off my arm. So, I did what any other 30-year-old woman in my situation would do.
I cried.
In public.
At an amusement park.
In front of laughing children.
By the time my friends made it through (the entire scene above occurred within 30 seconds), the ghouls had dispersed onto some other poor soul, and I was standing alone, crying in the rain. Charlene (one of the friends) has known me for 6 years. We talk about everything. She’s never seen me come close to shedding a tear. Hell, it took me a month after I lost my job before I let out a good sob over it. After the movie Titanic, my friend called me a bitch because she cried 6 times and I didn’t even twitch my nose. I’m not the crying type.
But if you were surrounded by 6 potential murders looking to suck your blood and cut off your arms, you’d do the same.
