Is It Hot In Here?

I am on a wee holiday. Mo, seeing the rigours of parenthood have taken a great toll on my (vestigial) sanity, gave me a day pass. I foolishly used some of the time to attend at the gym. It has been some time since last I attended. For example, there are now these strange contraptions all about. One can sit on a chair of sorts and lift plates which are attached to handles, chains, digital screens, and exercise! There were no leg warmers in sight. No soundtracks blaring from the latest Kevin Bacon dance vehicle.

Other things have changed. The lobby at the local Y has changed. This Y is changing its name, to the XY or something, in order to be inclusive or something. There is a sign in the showers which shows a human head with a series of hyphens spraying out of its mouth area and the words "NO SPITTING" below in 5 languages. No-one but me who was in the showers at 1030h today was spitting. There should be signs next to the hair dryers (or "blow" dryers, perhaps) which says "PLEASE DO NOT USE THESE MACHINES TO DRY OR OTHERWISE APPLY HOT AIR TO YOUR ANUS, GENITALS, OR COCKS, YOU SICK FUCKING FUCKS", also in 5 or more languages, so that others may be spared the sight which greeted me this morning when I entered the locker room. At some point, this guy was not drying... definitely not drying... must gouge out mind's eye.

And another thing.

I wear a shirt and tie at work. I sit behind and occasionally on a desk. When I am at work I perform the functions one would expect from a lawyer engaged in litigation practice. You know, torturing puppies, pulling the legs off spiders. Good times. Today I heard a man on tv justify his job of "driving truck" by saying "Wearing a shirt and tie, sitting behind a desk - that's not the job for me." As if that is the job! As if that kind of job is available! It isn't, is it? I'd like that job...

P-man.