So sore part deux

After two days of this working out thing, I'm not sure who my body hates more--the football player that's trying to help me, or me for listening to him. It prefers the old system where it's only expected to get me from point A to point B--and occasionally on the long, pointless ramble--and in return, it gets all the junk food, pizza and pop it wants. It doesn't like the new system of point A to point B PLUS lifting, stationary bike, sit-ups, etc. Not to mention that the diet part of the new system hasn't started yet--I intend to finish off the food I had already bought first, with little changes on the way (I ran out of pop today, and while I was buying Gatorade to have something other than water, I picked up some carrots).

Anyway, I have to keep the goal in mind: to work off some excess fat and build some upper body strength. As much as my body hates the situation right now, I know it'll be worth it.

And my current intention is to weigh in every Wednesday, and keep y'all posted on that--until or unless people complain about that.

So sore

Remember a while back when I said I might be working out with a football player soon? Well, soon began today. My back is all kinds of sore and I can't lift my arms above my head without pain. I hopped on the scale beforehand, and I was surprised. I was only 298--with my shoes on. I expected to be heavier, sadly. That's especially sad considering when I started losing weight back in Ames, I only weighed 290.

Anyway, I should probably stop procrastinating and do my homework.

I don't even exercise

Last night, I was thinking about how my arms aren't strong and that most of my strength is all lower-body. I've known for a long time that I have large calves--it runs in the family. There was the time I squatted while holding one of the subs because I didn't want to set it down in the elevator. It's how all the heavy lifting I do while setting up and tearing down happens--my legs do the lifting, my arms are just there to grip things. Anyway, I decided to measure my calves, to see how big they were--and compare to average. Well, the average man's calf is around 14 inches in circumference. Mine are 20.5 inches around. Almost all of that is from carrying me around everywhere, since I don't work out.

Yeah, random post today. But then, I think that's part of why people like me. I'm not normal.

I don't even like nachos

The title of this post is something I said some time after the party was planned. Tonight, around 15 people came over to have nachos and surprise pie and talk. After everyone left, both of my roommates asked if I had had fun--since I had talked all week about how I might just leave before the party and not return until afterwards. I responded that I hadn't. I've mentioned a few times before that I'm not a party person. I don't like large gatherings of people. I'm not comfortable in those situations. I like an escape route. Since the only options for leaving were going directly below the party--and having to go past someone to get to the stairs--or going out into the bitter cold, I felt trapped.

When everybody left, I could finally be "free". I didn't feel awkward and trapped, even though I was in the same place. The younger of my roommates mentioned that he might want to make this a weekly thing--the party aspect, at least. He also asked when my birthday was--and said we had to have a party then. Please don't come if my roommates try to plan a birthday party for me. I don't want one.

And the weird thing about parties and how I feel about them, is that I tend to forget in between parties. Before the party tonight, I was considering having a party here to watch Enchanted. Yes, I bought that recently, along with Captain America, Thor, and the Shawshank Redemption--four movies that just go perfectly together. Anyway, neither of my roommates have seen Enchanted, and the younger one was even teasing me about it, even though he had never heard of it. I don't care if I'm not in the intended audience for it--there was an ad for Disney Bridal inside. I love that movie. But getting back to the point--until I was at a party, I forgot how uncomfortable I feel at them.



Now, I'm to get completely off-topic for the remainder of this post: In my speech class on Thursday (before the big run around campus and get stuff fixed adventure), we were doing classmate introduction speeches--why you should get to know this person. The guy introducing me told about the tent pole through the roof of the mouth incident I had as a child. People gasped. It was hilarious. That's probably the weirdest scar I've got.

Victorious

If you don't remember yesterday's post (or chose to skip it to avoid the bad language), here's a reminder. I had to drop my Spanish class and sign up for a lower one due to getting a bad grade in the fall. After my first class this morning, I went to the Spanish building to get things straightened out. I waited in a line, and the person in front of me dropped out of a section that fit my schedule perfectly. I then had to go to my advisor and get him to sign the form. I did so, and took it to the registrar. After waiting in another line, it turns out that the Spanish department gave me the wrong form. I needed the add/drop form, but they only gave me the add form--which apparently makes a huge difference. So I got the right form, headed back to my advisor, had him sign that, and went back to the Spanish building, then back to the registrar. After waiting at the registrar's for a second time, I got the changes made. I emerged into the sunlight, victorious--and tired. I went back to the Spanish building to check email and found out that I had been running around for an hour--during which I had climbed 8 flights of stairs and walked 1.4 miles. And now I'm getting an image of myself as Mr. Bean.

Anyway, now I've gotten caught up on the homework for my new class, so life should be less crazy from now on, right? Right?! Please tell me it'll be less crazy. Otherwise I may have to spend a while weeping in the fetal position under my bed.

*$&!*

If the title isn't enough of a hint, this post is not going to be the normal happy/funny/mildly depressed stuff. This is going to be a bit of a profanity-laced tirade. I apologize in advance for this, but I need to get this anger out before I do something stupid, dangerous, illegal, or all three. I've mentioned my rage issues before, but most of the time, I can keep it under control. If you don't wish to read this, feel free to skip it. I won't mind.

I thought that the effects from the finals week from hell were going to be limited to having to take classes over. Well, I was wrong. That hellacious, damnable week is going to keep biting me in the ass. Let's see one effect I found out today.

Let's pretend that you are a department chair at a major university. Let's also say that the courses in your department have to be taken--and passed with a high enough grade--in the proper order. Let's further assume that students are allowed to register for the next semester before the current semester has ended. Let's also say that after the grades are turned in, you see that a student (likely multiple students) is signed up for a class, even though they got a bad grade in the preceding class the previous semester. What do you do? Do you try to contact them, saying they should drop the class they're registered for and register for the lower-level class, or do you wait until they've bought their books (a non-returnable, non-refundable packet) and gone to the first class and make them actually ask their teacher directly why they weren't assigned a group for one of the assignments? If you chose the first option, congratulations! You're a reasonable human being and not a bastard. I think you know which option was actually chosen.

Now, the teacher did say that I would have to go see the department chair to get everything straightened out (since I'm not allowed to do it myself after the semester starts), but I was not in the right mood to see someone about the problem, so I came home, let out a scream (if you were near my place and heard an angry scream shortly before 1 this afternoon, that was probably me) and sat down to write this. I'll go deal with it tomorrow, because right after class was not a good time.

Again, sorry for the rage dump. This blog should be back to the normal craziness in the next post.

The Collector

As I've mentioned before, I have a few collections. I've talked about my 18-roll duct tape collection which stems from the Red Green Show. I haven't mentioned my pog collection--which I haven't counted, and probably never will--which is now here in my apartment, marking the first time it's been in the same building I was living in full-time (and not just during the summers) since I went away to college. I also haven't mentioned (on here) my former collections of coins, stamps, or keychains. I was always into collecting things as a kid. The object of the collection would shift from time to time, though. I have mentioned my Pez dispenser collection a couple times before on here, though only in passing. Finally, here's an opportunity for my readers to see it. Sadly, for whatever reason, the resolution on these pictures isn't as high as has been the case in the past, so it's a little difficult to see.

What you see above is the main body of the collection: 131 regular dispensers, 2 mechanical, 2 mini, 1 plush, and 3 mini-plush.

These are the sets, still in their boxes (though the candy has been removed). 8 more each for the Star Trek and Wizard of Oz sets, 3 for the Mickey Mouse 80th anniversary set (also included is a poster), and 3 regular (Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas) and 5 miniature (Bilbo, Frodo, Sam, Gimli, Gollum) dispensers for the Lord of the Rings set. All told, the collection hits 153 normals, plus 7 mini, 1 plush, 3 miniature plush, and 2 mechanical for a grand total of 166 dispensers. Yes, there are some repeats, which takes the "unique" count down to around 155-160 (I should have checked as I was counting, but I forgot). Anyway, long story short, I've got a lot of Pez dispensers.