Friday, November 09, 2007

Valerie, call me; I'm the same boy I used to be.

All day I have been looking forward to a truly great evening and so far I am not disappointed. I went straight to the gym after work again, and though it is impossible to book a spot on any cardio machine at that time of the day, I am overall a fan of the post-work workout. It makes you feel SO virtuous. And good. So that was indeed part of my great evening, even though it involved sweat, effort, and a downgrade in wardrobe.

I've been going to this gym for almost a year now and have seen 4 people I know, one time each. But get this, today I saw my high school Algebra II/Trig/whatever the hell else teacher on the track. I definitely haven't seen her since 1992. She was a fascinating character back in the day, and probably the most motivational math teacher I had. It was in her class that I truly understood that the only thing between me and an A in math was the fact that I couldn't always be bothered to do the homework. "You've gotta crank it out," she would always say. "It's like learning a language. It's like running." She ran marathons and spoke with a weird accent that none of us could parse.

So seeing her was weird enough. But then while I was lifting weights after my run, I saw my 8th grade English teacher, who has not aged even one bit in the last TWENTY years, and I am not exaggerating. She was striding around wearing lycra pants totally legitimately. She is a person I think of occasionally, not because I always loved my English teachers (I did), but because she had an eccentric fashion sense that I now completely respect. Unfortunately that same fashion sense was anathema to a junior high school student. I'm just saying, she wore knickerbockers and her hair in two braids. Uh, and today she had on a really fringed shirt, so clearly nothing has changed there either. But whatever. As I curled my 12 pound dumbbell, I recalled how MMK and I told this English teacher about seeing Bruce Springsteen in concert, and our teacher got all interested and, totally unprompted, brought us a PILE of Springsteen records to take home and listen to the next day.

Neither of these women recognized me, which is unsurprising considering I am either 18 or 20 years older than I was when they taught me. Appalling.

Okay but back to my evening of delight. You will not be shocked to know that it involves Veronica Mars. What you do not know is that I decided I wanted some pizza and I went to the pizza joint in my gym clothes and bought two slices and ate one in the car on the drive home. And then I chilled some beer while I took a shower and I played String with the cat who is a MANIAC for the string, and I ruffled up his dandruff and groomed him, and then I washed my hands and ate my pizza and drank a beer and watched three straight episodes of V Mars in my softpants and LIFE IS SO GOOD. I have taken a break because I am about to watch the last episode on this disc and needed some more of that sweet anticipation.

I also have cookies.

On the downside, I have Steve Winwood in my head for no reason that I can trace.


  1. Sounds heavenly! You've inspired me to find out what the fuss is about and Netflix me some Veronica Mars.

  2. Maybe the Steve Winwood is from spotting your former teachers and their 80's/90's vibe.

  3. Have you ever looked up the definition of Anathema? It's totally absurd how one word can mean the opposite from itself. ---BCSM