Tennis Elbow

It really sucks to have tennis elbow and not even play tennis.  I get that is just a name for tendonitis and anything can cause it, but it is called tennis elbow so it makes me think of tennis.  I took lessons when I was a kid.  I’m not really all that athletically inclined, but I had some really cool tennis shoes.  They were old school (not old school at the time because it was 1980, they were new school then) white with a blue Nike swoosh.  Pretty sure it wasn’t even called a swoosh back then.  I also had a Chris Evert tennis racket.  It was badass.  I would stand in front of a wall at my parent’s house and hit the ball back and forth.  I would have pretend John McEnroe meltdowns and scream at the wall.  I wanted to be just like him.  I was mad I didn’t have a big white afro.  I did have wristbands and a headband.  I wore it everywhere when Wimbledon came on during the summer.  I also thought it looked cool and very professional to keep tennis balls in my shorts’ pockets.  You had to be ready to serve at a moment’s notice. Incidentally, grunting when serving was crucial to the appearance of looking really focused.  I just knew the combination of my shoes, racket, wrist/head bands, balls in pocket strategy and grunting would get me a spot on the professional tennis circuit. 

One day, I’d be playing at Wimbledon.  It was even just cool to say Wimbledon.  Try it…say it really loud.  I got in trouble for wearing my wristbands to church.  You had to be prepared though; you just never knew when you were going to get that tap on the shoulder and request to step in for Chris Evert.  I had to be ready.  I’d take getting in trouble.  I was that dedicated.   Even just the smell of new tennis balls was exciting.  Shut up…you know you smelled them, too.    So, I suppose I can understand why I’m suffering from tennis elbow now.  I was two steps from being a professional tennis player for God’s sake.

Feeling Old

If you ever want to make yourself feel really old…pull lots of weeds.  My mom turns 80 in August and she was whizzing by me this morning as I hobbled down the hallway.  I really love to do yard work and I do have ibuprofen, so death is not imminent.  Just like Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.  In the meantime though, I will get up slowly, move deliberately and use a walker with tennis balls at the ends of the legs.  Then…when I’m feeling livelier, I’m going to Pizza Hut and dancing like this as I wait for my pizza pie:

Better To At Least Try

I don’t know who said it is better to try and fail than never try at all, but I do know Yoda said, “Do or do not.  There is no try.”  I like both quotes.  I don’t want to end up regretting having an idea about something and not at least trying to make it happen.  Often it really stinks to put yourself out there like that and make little or no progress, but I think it actually stinks at that moment…it isn’t a long term lingering stench like cooking cabbage.  You can look back on things and feel good that you at least attempted something.  All this, of course, is about my desire to form a metal head river dance troupe.  I think it is time the Irish dancing sensation converged or rather head banged with death metal.  The speed at which the lower body would be required to move would be mind boggling.  Plus the potential of spin off in-home exercise DVDs and a toy action figure line would be HUGE.  I just need that one person to really believe in this concept and I need that one person to have a load of expendable cash.  I don’t think that is such a tall order…I mean it is just one person with one big bank account.  I keep telling myself that I will not let the looks on people’s faces; when I give them a few sample moves from metal head river dance (MHR) in meetings, dissuade me.  I will keep plugging away and just plant the seeds of my idea.  I will let the rejection roll of my back and know that either this will grow and flourish or it wasn’t meant to be and I’ll be proud of myself for at least making a go of it.  So, I’ll close with my index finger and pinky finger pointing upward as well as my tongue sticking out in the international sign of a metal head and say, “ROCK ON, DUDE.”

Swimming in Beer

I love beer.  I’ve always loved beer.  I love free stuff.  I’ve always loved free stuff.  Finding a combination of beer and free is well just plain exciting.  When I looked up things to do in Tampa so we can have something to do before the Lady Gaga concert, I found the Yuengling Brewery tour.  It is a tour of the brewery plus two beers after the tour…ALL FREE!  Naturally, it was the first thing we did when we got to Tampa.  Inside the brewery the over powering smell of beer was heavenly.  It was very difficult to not jump in the brewing tanks and go for a swim.  If I had, I would have done it up right like Ester Williams and incorporated a synchronized swimming dance number while singing an appropriate beer song.  Clearly, I’d also be gulping beer with each perfectly timed leg lift.  I suspect if I had done that, they would have asked me to stay on board and swim daily for tour guests.  I’d learn to sew so I could make my own colorful aquatic costumes.  I’d be the number one beer tank synchronized swimmer in the world!   My picture would replace the eagle on the Yuengling bottles.  Generations would envy my abilities in the beer tank.  That’s what would have happened…if I had jumped in for a beer tank swim.

See I could have just jumped right in...

If you wanted to drink your way through one of these tanks you'd have to drink a six pack a day for 51 years.  I really need on of these for my backyard.

Oh Damn...I Ripped My Pants

Have you ever noticed that when you rip your pants it never happens at a “good” time?  Never will this occur when you are home alone within easy distance of another pair of pants.  Nope, if it happens at home, it will be with a roomful of guests playing Dance Dance Revolution.  You’ll obviously be the one in the front, closest to the television; everyone else behind you has a clear view of your arse. You, of course, won’t know that a major fracture has occurred in your pants as you get your groove.  And naturally, you’d also be wearing your worst granny panties.  Or you’ll be rushing to important job interview, doing what you can to calm your nerves and psyche yourself up to brilliantly answer questions.  Your pants won’t rip while you wait.  The pants will rip just after you shake your interviewer’s hand and sit down.  The unmistakable sound of overworked fabric ripping fills the room.  Time stands still. 

I actually had my pants rip doing an educational outreach at my former job.  It was an animal show.  And for the record, I was pretty damn good at those shows.  The children were enthralled.  I was discussing hibernation and I bent down to give the group of second graders a better look at the ornate box turtle in my hand and….RRRRRRRIP.  I knew what had happened immediately, but what do you do? The show must go one.  Learning doesn’t wait for a new pair of pants.  I continued the show and did the best maneuvering known to man to hide the gaping hole in the backside of my pants.  The school had booked five, back to back shows that day.  The pants ripping happened during the first show.  I sidestepped and spun in ass hiding moves through each of those shows, but I did it.  And when it was all said and done, I left that school and treated myself to a dipped cone from Dairy Queen.  Because clearly consuming more calories is the best way to avoid another precarious ripping pants situation.

Once in a Lifetime Workout

I think I have a new workout plan.  I really think this will be the routine that will dramatically transform my figure AND it will be fun!  I’m going to call this new fitness plan the Once in a Lifetime Workout.  I’m fairly certain it will soon become the latest craze, like Jazzercise or Zumba.  I mean just click on the video and watch!  Look at how much David Byrne is sweating…IMAGINE the calories being burned with each hand chop on your arm!  This can also be done in conjunction with other forms of exercise.  Just think of combining all the Once in a Lifetime gyrations with your time on the treadmill, on the elliptical or even in the pool!  Kick up your grocery shopping and do the Once in a Lifetime Workout as you move down each of the aisles or wait for your deli meat to be sliced.  Do the Once in a Lifetime Workout while you walk the dogs or in an important meeting with wealthy, important clients.  Transform jury duty into a caloric blaster!  Anytime, anywhere you can do this workout.  In your shotgun shack, in another part of the world, behind the wheel of a large automobile!  Am I right or am I wrong? Don’t make your workouts the same as they ever were.  Don’t be another talking head, be a doer and try something new, the Once in a Lifetime Workout!

My True Calling In Life

I think I’ve found a retro toy that deserves a second chance.  I can’t believe when this first came out that kids didn’t understand the hours of fun that would greet them when they opened up the box containing their new Swing Wing.  Idiots.  I feel certain I can single handedly bring this toy back to the spotlight…where it rightfully belongs.  It would be only a matter of time before kids were clamoring for one of their own.  I’m thinking easily Cabbage Patch or Tickle Me Elmo status.  I’ll just make one and wear it everywhere.  Grocery shopping, oil changes, job interviews, walking the dogs, the movie theater, golfing, at the gym, standing in line to vote…I will wear it EVERYWHERE!  I’ll have the world’s strongest neck and abs as I swing and sway all the way to the bank. How in the world would kids not want one?  I’ve found my calling.  It all makes sense now.  I will be the pied piper of the the new Swing Wing craze! 

Stupid Back Flips

Today got me to thinking…I’m really annoyed at the fact that I can’t do a back flip.  In all honestly, I can’t even do a decent cartwheel.   When I try it is a shameful display of human weakness. It isn’t a matter of guts.  As a kid, I used to drive my Big Wheel too fast. I would take unnecessarily dangerous chances on the swing set by attempting to go all the way around.  I would even fall forward flat on my face for laughs.  So what is it about a back flip that eludes me?  I am completely denied  joyous opportunities to spring into a back flip at unexpected moments in a conversation, suddenly in the produce section of the grocery store, during Thanksgiving dinner or down the stacks at the public library.  I feel denied that the back flip is not in my arsenal of random things to do when the mood strikes you.   I am certain that the ability to do a back flip opens the door to more complex routines.  Just imagine the dusting potential of having a swiffer in your hand as you do a backward tucked somersault ending in a straddle split…the efficiency factor of the range of surfaces your duster would grace is simply mind boggling.  I think I’m very lucky for many things in my life…but on this front I feel like I got the short end of the uneven bars.  It just isn’t fair and today was an especially hard day to accept it.