I'm Not Fat, I'm Grumpy.

I joined a gym.

Do not start with the congratulations and encouragement. It's condescending. I'm fat and tired of it. I go to the gym. Don't coddle me.

But people are not making it easy. Forget the agony of getting up at the ass crack of dreadful. Forget the drive to the gym, the aches and pains, the sweat. Forget all the parts of the actual exercise that are not enjoyable. (And do not give me that runner's high bullshit.) The other people at the gym are what make me want to slink back to bed with a donut and await my impending coronary.

Today at the gym, I'm on the elliptical, a TOTAL STRANGER walks by. He stops to say hello.

TS: Good morning!

Me: morning

TS: So, how much have you lost?

Me: What?

TS: Weight, how much have you lost?

Me: I don't know.

TS: Well, why not?

Me: I don't weigh.

TS: Then what's the point?

At this point, it is all I can do to not punch him in the neck. First, what fraking business is it of yours, STRANGE OLD MAN? But beyond that I want to shout: HEY ASSHOLE! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT?! ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?! ARE YOU?!

Let me stop to say that I know I am fat. I get it. I also have no illusions that people don't make assumptions about me based on being fat. But guess what? That stunned stupid look in your eye tells me you're a moron, and I don't ask you how long it took you to figure out how to turn on the rowing machine. (For the record, almost 10 minutes. Hint, the rower is not electric).

The same week, while I was working out, someone talked to me for 30 minutes about how he hated technology, and used to be married to that florist, and had these two dogs named Buster and Bobo, and now he's here, thanks to jesus, and "gee, ain't it nice to have someone to talk to at the gym?". NO. No, it isn't nice. That's why I have my iPod and iPad. So I don't have to interact with you.

Then in the locker room, THE INNER SANCTUM, a woman began to tell me about how her husband died. A woman I didn't know was telling me, in great fraking detail, about the death of a man I never met as I sat wrapped in a towel putting on mascara. WTF.

I know I sound like the dick in all this. These poor people just needed someone to talk to. But why me? When then? I am already someplace I do not want to be doing something that makes me miserable. Make friends on your own time, jerks. Now I have to wear fake earphones so I can pretend to not hear them instead of being a total douche about it. The worst part is that being a total douche doesn't work either. Being distant or outright rude does NOT discourage them.

The problem is that we have broken the social contract. Especially in the South. There is an inferred sense of intimacy when we participate in similar activities. Going to the same gym does not make us friends. That's like forming a sorority for people who love Fruity Pebbles cereal. It's just pathetic.

I propose a restoration of basic gym rules. Rules that will make it easier for me to drag my fat ass out of bed and on to the treadmill. So here goes:

Rule 1. Leave me alone. You may greet me with a nod or soft "hi". But that is it.

Rule 2. NEVER discuss work with me at the gym. This is me time. I am in ill spirits already.

Rule 3. Do not mention my weight. Or my goals. Or how much my working out "really is paying off". Leave me alone.

Rule 4. If I am working out, leave me alone.

Rule 5. If I am in towel, leave me alone for REAL.

Exercise in a gym is a solitary activity. If you want it to be social, join a class or bring a friend. Otherwise, go join ineedfriends.com and leave me alone.

Truth or Snare

Go to http://formspring.me/MrsLawcomic and ask me anything. I'll even let you ask anonymously! Lucky you!

Advice on love, cooking, friends, work, knitting, anything. Any answers will be as honest as I can and possibly funny.

I'm not promising I'll answer all of them, but lets's just give it the ol' community college try. Shall we?

Shrink-y Dink

When I turned 30, I promised myself 2 things: therapy and a house keeper. Every two weeks, someone tells me I'm right and someone else dusts. Clean house, clean mind. A year later, the house keeper is gone. I couldn't justify the expense of both and, as it turns out, I like the instant gratification of vacuuming. Also, I have a Dyson, which is extra badass.

The therapist stayed.

How could she not? She is doing good work. If you've read this blog, you know I have issues. And she listens. I drone on about my life and whine and bitch and she has to pretend to be interested. It's brilliant. $30 a session and she agrees with me. Don't misunderstand. She tells me when I'm wrong. Just not often. She knows what's good for her.

The downside is that between therapy and Twitter I was getting all (okay, most) of my bitching out of my system. Doesn't leave a lot for blogging. But then the wonder and magic of the human spirit took over. I have come to realize that my capacity for anger and agitation is well beyond what I realized. Exponentially infinite. I have found fresh new things to hate. Things that only once got a passing scowl are now given the true weight of my anger. With the real issues settling, I can focus my energy on hating things like E! online, eggs, Body by Jake, people who drink white zinfandel, and James Cameron.

Get a therapist, people. That and smoking are the only things that set us apart from the apes. Even better, get a therapist in a smoking office and tell those monkeys where to shove it.

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Stupid Things

The holidays were tough and I just haven't had the time or will to talk to you guys. But it's a new year and time to start fresh. I've had plenty of time to think and I'm calling bullshit on a few things. So let's make a social contract, folks. You give up this things on my list and I won't start ramming strangers with my car. Deal?

Open toe boots.

This shit has gone too far. They are hideous. Just because something is new and weird doesn't mean it is attractive. If you have open toe boots, you fell for it. Admit defeat to savvy marketing and move on.

Joy Behar

She was hanging by a thread. Now she has the Nancy Grace/CNN stink on her.

Giving your kids stupid misspelled names

If you want to give your kid a special unique name, do it. Name her Zaiah or Penelope or Birdie. Ayshleigh and Kailee are typos. Stop making bad spelling what passes for originality.

FB Game Invites

Mafia Wars, Farmville, etc. Do not invite me. I have a job and a social life. Also your game is dumb and pointless. Except Farkle. That's just good ol' fashion fun.

'At Last' being played in commercials.

If you say to yourself 'at last my love has come along' when you buy cat food, you will never know true happiness. Fact.

Black-Guy-with-White-Girl-Forbidden-Love

Dance on SYTYCD.

We get it. They are different races. Do something interesting. It isn't 1956. This is not edgy, except maybe in Jasper, Alabama. Which reminds me...

Jasper, Alabama.

I have had the utter displeasure to be forced to drive through Jasper repeatedly. As a child, I spent days at a time there. On Christmas Day, I had the onerous misfortune to have to eat a meal there. In a Hardees. If your town is on a major highway in the south and you can't even rustle up a Cracker Barrel, society and civilization have given up on you. If you know anyone who is currently living there and not trying to get out, shoot them in the face. They don't deserve the gift of life.

A Day in the Strife

I am sick. I hate this. However, being sick gives me the time to blog a bit. Oddly, being sick also tames some of the hate. I'm a nicer person when I'm sick. It's weird, but true.

Then I turned on the TV. As much as illness tames the fire of loathing, daytime TV fans the flames. So here I am, watching TV and drinking TheraFlu. Forgive me if this gets too Paula Abdul.

Lakeside Behavioral Health runs ads for counseling during The Price is Right. There is something to be said for knowing your audience. Of course the ads are targeted at people who need therapy "after work hours". So, fail. ::Click::

How is Rachel Ray not attacked every time she opens her mouth? She just used the words 'shingle' and 'banana' in the same sentence. Also she used her voice. Words also used today: crusty, shingled (yes, again), Mr.Bear's belly, burger vessel, nubbers. I must be losing the will to live as I haven't changed the channel. Does she know this show is supposed to make people want to eat? I want to strangle her. ::Click::

E! News is proof humans are inherently bad. I don't know half of the people they are talking about and don't care about the other half. Except the Gosselins. Those guys are both complete douches. The E! News reporter just said 'nip slip'. ::Click::

If you are on a televised judge show, you have already lost. At life. ::Click::

Wayne Brady is hosting Let's Make A Deal. He hates his life almost as much as I hate his life. I wanted to rail on about what a fucking loser he is, but he knows already. You can see it in his sad, broken eyes. But I watched the show for 10 minutes. What does that say about me? ::Click::

Shhhhhhhhhhh!!!! Ellen is on.

I fell asleep for a few and awoke just long enough to ignore Dr. Phil.
Now I'm off to chug a lug a mug of TheraFlu. Yummy.

I may have to watch the Discovery Channel the rest of the night to cleanse my brain. Or the Travel Channel. I hear Andrew Zimmern is going to eat a whole pig brain in Ghana. That will be the most appetizing thing I've seen all day.

Why Can't We Be Friends?

People like me. I make a great first impression. I like people. But only superficially. I may have fun hanging out at a party, but I do not want to catch a cup of coffee with you later.

And that's great. I have plenty of friends. More than I care to bother with most days. But you may want to be friends with me and I get that. I am pretty spectacular. So let's set some ground rules with this simple quiz. Please be as honest as you can and maybe, just maybe this will work out.

Do you like dogs?

Do you like music?

Do you enjoy judging other people with standards too strict for anyone to live up to?

Can you knit? Well?

Can you bake? Well? For others?

Can you take a freakin' joke?

Do you give to charity?

If you answered no to more than half of these questions, well, I'm just not that into you.

If you have answered yes to more than half of these questions, you are well on your way to beginning to find out if we can be friends! Please move on to the next section.

Can you name more than 3 cast members from Big Brother?

Is Mayonnaise your favorite food?

Do you refer to your significant other as "hubby/wifey", "daddy/mother" or "my love"?

Are you a practicing witch?

Is 'chillaxin' a word one should use?

Do you think television is beneath you?

Do you strongly believe in a multiverse theory for quantum mechanics?

Do you purchase People, Us Weekly, Star or InTouch magazine on a regular basis?

Have you read all the Harry Potter Books?

If you answer yes to more than 3 of these questions, go home. It will never work out between us. I'll still talk to you at parties and acknowledge you when we run into each other at a restaurant, but WE will never be.

If you answered yes to less than three, you've got a fightin' chance at being my friend. Please move on to the last section.

Do you own a Hummer?

Do you think being gay is a choice?

Do you like to sing aloud for other people when not in a performance setting?

Is Fox News your main source of news?

Have you purchased a book written by Ann Coulter or Bill O'Rielly (not as a gag gift)?

Are you a jerk to servers?

Do you go on and on about your kids all the damn time?

Have you ever compared someone to Hitler and meant it? (other than someone who actually looks like Hitler)

Do you read TMZ?

Have you ever brought your own food or beverage to a restaurant instead of ordering?

Are you Taylor Swift?

Are you a close friend or fan of Taylor Swift?

Do you listen to Taylor Swift?

Do you think voting is a waste of time?

Have you, as an adult without children, attended a midnight release of a Harry Potter book in costume?

Do you bitch incessantly about Memphis?

Would you do a reality show with your kids?

Do you insist on bringing deviled eggs to parties, even if I ask you nicely not to?

If you answered yes to ANY of these questions, GO AWAY. I don't want to know you, see you or share air with you.

That's just how is goes.

If you answered no to these questions, we should get dinner sometime. But not alone, with a group, just in case you're really boring or dumb or hard to look at. It may not be much, but it's a start.

Cozumel Cruise - The lost Tweets

Day one - All Aboard

Our cabin steward says to call her "Sparky". I will call her "Twitchy" to myself.

Muhammad and his wife have just beaten us in a Mind Bender game. It is on. Jihad!

Ice Cream!

This ship is like Vegas without all the strippers. Or the desperation.

First show of the cruise - "Welcome Aboard" I found the strippers and the desperation.

The dining room is gorgeous. Our table is great, if you like surly teenagers.

Ice Cream!

Day Two - Ah! The Sea.

Judging by the attendance at the "Friends of Dorothy" meet-up, they include 3 middle aged men and the drunken sales team from a healthcare company.

This is the most bitter piano bar I have ever been in. Tom hates his life. He may stab Dorothy's friends.

Ice Cream!

Show 2. There is a talking couch. For real, yo.

White boy in white suit sings 'Minnie the Moocher'. It is even whiter than you think.

Ever wonder what happened to the kids who were REALLY into Show Choir? Found 'em.

Look! Ice Cream!

Day Three - Hola, Cozumel.

We have welcomed ashore by a traditional Mexican cochina. ------------> They call it Fat Tuesdays. How quaint!

We are 2 feet from the sun, but apparently in the cheap overpriced fake Mexican stuff you don't need capital of the world.

Aqua Fresca is awesome! But probably because it is mainly fruit and sugar not so much water and fresh.

Babies riding on motorbikes without helmets. Way to go Mexico.

Cozumel's main exports? Pottery and distain for Americans.

The sand on this beach is made of shards of glass and razors.

I think our cabbie is conspiring to have us killed.

Ooo! Ice Cream!

Day Four - Back to the Sea!

Bingo, bitches. 3 card bingo.

Muhammad's wife just won a jewelry giveaway. I may toss her overboard.

Word Jumble competition? That's why we cruise.

I like that some things are universal. I hate that one of those things is stupid drunk girls singing "Strawberry Wine" at karaoke.

Casino Win!

Ugh. Ice cream.

Beatles Tribute Show. On a cruise ship. By extra white cruise performers and literal song reenactments. Yes, please.

Day 5

"Please prepare to get off the boat."

"You do know you have to get off the boat, right?"

"Get off our boat! Now!"

"No, Seriously. GET OFF THE BOAT."