gym bike

The gym bike bit me.

Sweat was extra painful today, so I examined my thigh and saw a slab of skin rolled up into a human skin Chinese spring roll. The pain intensified, I swear. All I could do to not yell in the shower was focusing on the smell of poo wafting from across the toilet cubicles.

Discovery #1
Toilets should be built further away from shower cubicles. Especially if the shower comes with hot water. The heat emanating from 10 showers combined gives the poo smell, a riper tang. I know the piping and drainage system and whatevernot makes it only rational and all, and 10 different brands of shampoo + shower gel flavours are quite effective coverups but how come I still know that someone's pooing when I shower?! No, I don't want to change to richer-smelling shampoo.

Discovery #2
Do not hit the gym bike in shorts. The seat is designed by a evil, cruel person whose intention is to make it as hard as possible (for greater impact upon contact with the ass to transform fat into slapping sound energy or bouncing kinetic energy) and as wide as possible (to avoid the seat from disappearing between asscheeks and ensure maximum friction between seat and inner thighs to transform fat into skin-peeling heat energy).

Wear long, thick pants, folks. Layer the seat of long pants with tissue, if you must.

And I shouldn't have laughed when my friend told me the other day that virgins should be prohibited from using the gym bike.

I don't know how long must I walk with kangkang legs.

beached

I can't believe how bushed (lazy) I've been with work and getting a social life back (and watching downloaded nonsense) to write something worth reading.

Woo. I have a social life! Have been making new friends at the gym, got reacquainted with some ex-colleagues and I was hit on for the first time in my life at the club last night. Alright, he was falling-down drunk and blabbering about it being his friend's birthday and all... and he was all over Eryn before sauntering over my way... but a first's a first. And by G I shall choose to erase these little unimportant details and remember the occasion fondly.

Gosh do I sound like a high-school girl or what.

I'm brimming with positiveness and bubbly excitement. Must be the alcohol (I had a sip of JD) and fitful 2-hour sleep. That or the hottie holding my hand steering me through the crowd last night (aaah the simple pleasures of life - and being at 154cm).

Eryn, eat your heart out. *insert dramatic evil laughter with echo*

fitness first?

I can't stand the personal trainer calling me day in day out to sign up for sessions with him. I can't stand myself for not being able to just say a firm "no" and stop the harassment. I always, always have a problem rejecting people. So now the beating around the bush has taken the beaten track of needing to consult my doctor, talk to my friends first... the works. What the hell was I thinking? Why do I need to cook up excuses? To not hurt his feelings? What if it just gets his hopes higher? Why do I even care? I won't be the only one saying "no" to personal training! Aiyaiyai.

I'm either a too-nice blurbat or an evil liar.
Either way, it's not good. How to change?

On a totally different note, Eryn just got back from Pulau Rawa with her housemate and some Spanish hunks. I also want!!! (a holiday with abundant sun and sea... Spaniards... optional)

prison break

I'd love to write more often, but I'm too hooked to Prison Break. And gym. The former very supermegawillingly and latter... siiiiiiiigh. What needs to be done still has to be done.

firsts

A week of firsts for me.

I saw my little brother hold hands with a girl. I felt half-weirded out, half-jealous.

I started work at the new office. Colleagues and bosses are lovely. Some little hiccups on my working tools but I'm sure they can (and will) be fixed.

I joined Fitness First. Cost me a bomb but I swore to myself I'll go everyday before (and maybe after) work. The reason of my sudden gungho-ness is below.

I almost had a heart attack (I think). Was at Kinokuniya and listening to mum explaining from a recipe book how easy healthy food can be prepared when I suddenly could hear nothing but my heart thudding against my ribs. The beats accelerated. Blood rushed to my brains and my lower body became numb. I started suffocating and swaying off my feet. I tried to call for my brother but couldn't utter a sound. 5 seconds of this and my vision started to clear. My heart was still racing. I was scared shitless! Was that a stroke? Pre-stroke? Mini cardiac arrest?

Happy birthday Nene. Not everyone can share the limelight with the devil. You have it this year so flaunt it ya! I love you.

dentist

I'm back from the dentist's for my half-yearly scaling and polishing. Sometimes half-yearly becomes yearly, or bi-yearly, but a mild toothache has been bugging me for some time now. Nothing I lost sleep over, but enough to give me the tingles when I have ice-cream, and wanna headbang my bookshelf when I accidentally bite down hard on something harder at the hardest angle.

The pain echoes. And then ebbs to a dull, thudding discomfort from the deepest part of the cavity. This is when I feel like yanking my tooth out (but don't know which one) with a pair of pliers than sit around unable to focus on anything else but the dull, small pain. Day-um.

So I had a filling. The tooth kind, not the stomache kind.

I told the dentist I didn't feel any effect a minute after the first anaesthetic shot. She said maybe I'm the slower-to-pick-up kind and waited with me for another five. I should've kept my mouth shut and just wait as long as it takes for the numbness to take place. Obviously I didn't, and told her no drill is going into my mouth until saliva runs down the left side of my face and I don't feel it.

She gave me another anaesthetic shot. 3 seconds into that and I couldn't open my left eye. My eyelid drooped all of a sudden and I was like, whoa... why's the room tilting, why can't I focus my vision... and I keeled over the dentist chair. My heart was pounding. The dentist chuckled (evil snicker, I'm sure) as her nurse observed how I'm similar to Margaret the white woman. Apparently her visual nerve is located close to her tooth nerve (whatever) like me and the anaesthetic affected both nerves. So many nerve explanations got me more nervous. I don't give a hoot who's Margaret. Will my contact lense roll up into my eye socket? Will I be able to drive home?

The dentist chuckled some more and said, relax. Then I heard the drill starting up.