I drove out to a nice hotel by the airport tonight and made a quick 70 bucks. I sold my music tastes to a big market research company in exchange for enough money to pay for the heart rate monitor and exercise mat I purhcased for my yearly trip into hard core exercise mode. Did you know I work out? Why yes, yes I do. Since January 3rd 2008.
I worked out a little last year but this year I’m hard core. I have a heart monitor for the love of Pete’s Dragon! I use it to monitor my heart and things. I love it. This weekend Dan and I played a rousing game of Super Mario 3 on my Christmas Wii and I measured my heart rate throughout the evening to see if I was getting an aerobic workout simply from stress and thumb strain. It’s fun to check your heart rate during all kinds of activities. You know. Just because.
Which doesn’t really bring me back to my evening of market research but I will talk about it anyway. In a 2 hour period, I texted Dan a couple of times, drank 20 oz of water, avoided putting my kids to bed and rated 550 popular songs on a scale of 1-5 of how much I liked them and a scale of A-C of how tired I am of hearing them played on the radio. It was quite emotionally taxing for me.
I’m someone who’s fairly private about my listening preferences because in part but not limited to the fact that I am embarrassed about what I like. My everyday music choices are not exactly highbrow and sitting in that room full of 25-35 year old women rating the songs I like in a computer database that will most likely go on my personal file somewhere where they keep permanent personal files of embarrassing things had me worried. I thought, “If I had not been born in Canada and were thusly eligible to run for President of the United States one day, and had also not seen every episode of the West Wing, therefore learning that becoming the POTUS is the last thing I’d ever want to do besides, you know, other things I’d less rather do, and I was one day running in a political race for the aforementioned office, would it somehow surface in a vicious smear campaign that I think The Police are overplayed but I somehow remain strangely charmed by Ace of Base?”
I also thought as I listened to one Hip Hop song that it would be cool to have one of those Hip Hop sidekick people following me around saying, “Unh, yeah, uh-huh uh-huh, GIRL, sing it Kathryn, UNH!” every time I opened my mouth, you know, with the approving grunts and such.
As I left they gave me $70 cash which I tucked away somewhere where cash should be tucked and headed home, feeling a little weird about exposing my music tastes in such a reckless and feckless fashion.
When working out at the gym as I am wont to do, I have been known to occasionally trip on the treadmill and go flying off the back end. Rather than worrying about possible injury or the fact that I look like a flailing spaztard, I’m generally just very anxious that my MP3 player not get disconnected from my headphones, thus turning on its external speaker and revealing to my fellow gladiators that I work out to a mix of Gwen Stefani, Carol King, Out”k”ast, Abba and Milli Vanilli. That’s just private.
My current blogging heart rate is 75, temperature 98.6F.
When Laylee was building her snowman this afternoon, she asked, “Can you please get me two blueberries and a carrot… and some more blueberries?”
