Oh, Brother!

1994-1998, were all about the Brother; The Brother word processor. Mine had a keyboard and a screen. I can still see the orange glow of the letters on the screen. I can still hear the sound of a ten page paper printing for an hour and a half. Who did I know that had a computer in their dorm room? No one!! I believe I encountered three people who owned computers down the road, including one of my roommates. I also recall trying to use it and having no freaking clue as to what I was doing. Internet? Email? I know some of my friends emailed, but I was not about to sit in the computer lab and nerd off like that! So crazy!!!! No kidding; we took classes about the Internet back then. Who knew how valuable they were! My two interactions with the internet were both inappropriate and dumb. First, during a winter intersession, my friend Rachel and I took a class for about two hours a day. It gave us plenty of time to rest up so we could go to Pizzeria Uno most nights out of the week and eat pizza potato skins. It was the winter and we needed to bulk up just in time to get ready for the summer. Acting like seventh graders in heat, we wondered, if we typed in certain words, what would we find? Let’s just say I don’t think there was much of a Firewall back then considering a huge male aspect of the anatomy appeared on the screen. AND THEN FROZE. Our fits of laughter suddenly turned to fear. We had not yet learned about the Control-Alt-Delete!!!!!! Like a scene from a movie, the male instructor began walking our way. Fortunately, we hit every button combination possible (off) and the image disappeared. Email? What the hell what? We called each other, wrote letters, or just did not communicate at all. Friends who had cell phones had huge biceps; the phones were gigantic. My parents had lent me their phone since I would drive back and forth. It had a carrying case and the Da Vinci Code was needed to even get it to turn on. There were still pay phones, but since we did out laundry without the ease of using a card that had money on it, we needed every quarter we could get our hands on. Despite the trick with the clicks and hammer (if you did it you need no explanation), you sometimes just had to pay for a load of wash. Wow. These times have certainly changed.

Memories

I used to pride myself on having a phenomenal memory.  I could tell you what you were wearing at a certain event on such and such a date in 1991.  I could quote the cost of a white, square neck shirt with floral embroidery adorning the neck from Aeropostale in 1995.  Yet, when I was approached this past weekend at an Alpha Phi reunion down in Towson with a few little anecdotes from my past, I could swear I had amnesia.  You could have told me I rode on a Homecoming float wearing only Mardi Gras bead, knee socks and heels, shown me a picture to prove it and I still would not have remembered.  What does this say about my mental condition? Nothing bad…sounds like I had a damn good time as a Towson Tiger/Lady of Alpha Phi.

The most disturbing thing I learned about my own past:

Apparently Mentos and sock are efficient teaching tools.  What do Mentos and a pair of socks have in common? Not what you would expect.  However, both of these items have provided a life lesson that deemed itself beneficial to at least one of my sisters. 

LESSON LEARNED THIS WEEKEND:

Thank the Lord we did not have Facebook and pocket sized cell phones with photo and video capacity back in the mid to late 90’s. 

LESSON RE-LEARED THIS WEEKEND:

Friends are friends, brothers are pals and sisters are soul mates for life.

It's Not You, It's Me

Dear New York Sports Club of Oceanside, 11 years. One pulled hip flexor and a 6 week freeze post baby. You were there for me when I needed to burn off some steam and calories. We have been through two marriages, one divorce, and one pregnancy. You know all of my last names and prior addresses. I fell in love with spin in your midst, pedaling up until 24 hours before my water broke. I cried when that class gave me a round of applause for my dedication and persistence. But now, those applause are just a memory. As I look back on our time together, it's so much easier to romanticize the way we were. Not everything was perfect. I saw jungle bushes not meant for eyes like mine and saggy breasts that I can only hope were not a preview of what my girls could become down the road. Can you tell I have issues with public nudity? Wouldn’t you if you saw a woman wrapped in a towel, lying on a bench with her knees bent and well….you get the picture? There was the time I accidentally pushed the speed up on the Stairmaster to the point where I found myself holding on, legs suspended, while my shins were brutally beaten by the rotating stairs. I had to jump down and pray no one was watching. And that scale! It was always at least five pounds above my actual weight. Could someone with know how in the field of fixing mechanical medical scales get their ass over to you already? You know how I feel about the horrific body odor, (not limited to one but possibly including one or more of the following: pits, scalp, ass, kibbles, bits), bizarre sweat patterns and bad breath I have encountered throughout my travels. Before you remind that you are a gym, let me assure you, I know that. I really believe that I have extra sensitive scent detecting abilities. There is really no need to rehash any of these anecdotes, yet the smells are forever stuck in my nostrils. I would, however, would have liked to get one last whiff on my terms, but a certain bitch named Sandy (pronounced SanDAY in certain circles I hang with) took this option away from me. I barely even got to say goodbye to you, the gym I loved to complain about. Close to four o’clock this afternoon, I received a call from my gym friend, Tom. Tom and I have been spin buddies for about five years. He has saved me a bike, switched one out when it was squeaky, and was well deodorized. In return, I would call up and reserve spots for both of us, guard Tom’s bike when latecomers would try and take it because he was trying to get in one more set of whatever arm thing he was doing. When I had Emily, he brought me a gift and began saving Buy Buy Baby coupons for me. After Sandy, you were closed because the power was out. I had tried calling Tom, but could not get through on his landline. Eventually I heard from him; his first floor was wiped out and because his house had no heat and smelled like gas, Tom was staying with friends on the North Shore. He could not be at spin at the usual time, and neither could I. Life as we had both known it was very much up in the air. So, not surprisingly, Tom wanted to know if I was going to be at the gym tonight because it was going to be his first night back. No. No more of Maria’s Monday night kick your ass who cares if it’s Monday everyone is tired and you are here so just do it class for me. Tom asked me how he was going to spin without me next to him. I told him that this past Saturday I did it without him and it was actually kind of sad. And just an FYI…the spin bikes at Synergy suck. I am pretty sure they were your hand me down bikes from ten years ago. You have spoiled me so…. While you are only a gym, creatures of habit like me would prefer to call the shots. Change is good, but I have to say I am harboring some resentment towards a natural disaster that took my ability to make changes on my own terms away from me. While others absolutely had it worse than we did, we still were victims of what I can only hope was a fluke of nature. I guess when things are already out of hand, it makes sense to keep pushing the envelope and try something out of one’s comfort zone, like moving away from many things familiar. For me, that was moving away from anything along and off of Long Beach Road, which is what led me to end my eleven year relationship with you. It might sound cliché, but this is the truth; it’s not you, it’s me. Love, Lisa P.S.-Tom said I can be his guest if your rules allow it.