Spinning in Butter.

After sitting shackled to this ergonomic chair and keyboard like some 19th century prisoner for much of the day; hunched, immobile, listless (you get the picture) I like to end my day running on a treadmill in some wierd outburst of frenetic energy (think 70's gerbil wheel and you've got the picture).

I belong to Crunch Gyms (hey -- no "judgments" is their logo) and I dutifully go everyday to watch the free cable and atone for the sins of my flesh. In addition to the medevil excerise machines ("stairmaster" sounds like pre-enlightnment torture device to me) and the weights there are also a range of "fun" and "fresh" classes designed to make you forget that you are actually excersising. Usually, these classes involve an obscene amout of jumping around to a smattering of selections from every kind of "popular" music played so loud your brain starts to feel like a bad euro-trash disco. But I , like most of the other people in the class (READ: 20 to 45 year old WOMEN) am happy to actually feel that my arms and legs do work after a day of sitting motionless.

The other day I decided to take the epic plunge and try the spinning class which is like a Jane Fonda aerobics routine all done, get this, atop a bike. Imagine an excersie class designed by methamphatimine addicts and you kind of have the idea. You enter a darkened room, which is designed to look like an abandoned disco with bikes where the dance floor should be. After adjusting my bike to fit my respective height - mine, it should be noted, is set so low Frodo could have used it ride to Mordor - I begin to comfortably pedal and get ready for the class to start. The bike is oddly fast and I worry that when I begin to sweat I am going to come hurtling off it. I begin to have visions of telling my friends I got in a STATIONARY bike accident.

Brushing off this worst-case scenario, I nervously look around and get ready, feigning confidence, as well toned women with sculpted biceps and steely glints in their fat burning eyes take their place around me. Suddenly an instructor wearing a hands-free, head-set mike, is shouting to "SPRINT" which is, apparently, my cue to pedal like a 13 year old chasing traffic. The superwomen around me morph into Lange Armstrong crack addicts; their kneecaps look like dangerous killers. I am glad I don't have prosthetics because I feel at any moment one of my legs is going to detach itself from my hip and go flying into the middle of the ...dance floor? No one else seem to share my concern and they pedal, spinning away their calories with a commitment I am not sure if I admire or find terrifying.

This goes on for 45 minutes. By the end we have gone "uphill" and "downhill"; we have done push-ups on the bike, and a bit of yoga and I am sure, at some point in this class, I forfeited my ability to have children but, what the hell, right? My knees might not work when I hit 35 but my body is that much closer to being fat-free.

Tick-Tock

LIFE ON LINE (As I know it).

9:00 - Get to work (nameless/faceless/soulless temp job). Turn on computer.

9:05 - Check work email. Return work emails. Use words in email like "Per your request" and " Please find the enclosed attached" and "Do not hesitate" and "if you have any questions."

9:30 - Check my hotmail/yahoo/earthlink/ personal email. Lament the lack of emails from friends/dates/parents. Decide I need to meet new people and curse my friends. Wonder if I have become a major bore/dullard?!?

9:32 - Go to NYTIMES.com in attempt to keep up on current events. Read Paul Krugman and agree with everything he has to say. Wish I could date him. Shake my (metaphorical) fist at the Bush administration and everything it does. Swear at the picture of our frat boy asshole President and crony of Good Ol' Boys. Wonder what the world is coming to. Leave NYTIMES site feeling depressed and slightly hopeless.

9:45 - Need to feel frivolous. Go to Eonline.com and look at pictures of Paris Hilton. Wonder what the world is coming to. Leave Eonline site feeling depressed and slightly hopeless.
10:00 - Answer phones and fax and go on a Starbucks run for my boss.
10:30 - Come back and decide I should be helping refugees in Africa not making coffee runs for a grown man.

10:40 - Log on to http://www.peacecorp.org/ site. and look at requirements. Read description for "Waste Managmenent in the Developing World" project. Wonder if this requires extensive work with Port-a-Pottys? Imagine good times (filled with meaning, filled with hope) helping women and children in Uganda. Am (rudely)interrupted by boss and told to fax stock transfer sheet to client.

11:00 - Send out mass email to friends urging them to sign Moveon.org petition asking Congress not to approve one of Bush's rightwing nut job judges to the supreme court.

11:05 - Wonder if mass email was a mistake? Wonder if I am blocked on friend's emails?

11:15 - Stuff envelopes

11:25 - Think about why I got a liberal art's degree.

11:35 - Go to NYPOST.com and read the latest news on the whereabouts of Madonna, Gwyneth, P-Diddy, and Beyonce.

11:38 - Shake my head at the celebu-freak world of news. Vow to never waste time reading such trivial infotainment again.

11: 45 - Read report about Nuclear proliferation on the Council on Foreign Relations website.

11:55 - Wonder why more people can't be as informed as I am.

11:59 - Extremely bored.

12:00 - Debate whether or not to send Ex an email.

12:30 - Regret sending Ex an email.

12:45 - Wonder if I should eat lunch at Subway?

1:00 - Tell boss am going to lunch.

1:10 - Order a turkey supreme at Subway. Decide to get "Baked Lays" with sandwich and a root-beer soda.

1:20 - Sit in front of Morgan Stanley building with other temps eating Subway.

1:25 - See roving bands of corporate assholes wearing blue shirts talking about their weekend in the Hamptons. Wonder what the world is coming to? Finish lunch feeling depressed and slightly hopeless.

1:30 - Contemplate not going back to work.

In the Beginning

Here we go (I hope I don't humiliate myself too much).