Battlefield: Studio Apartment
I am a General, and this is a war of attrition. My enemy, as always, is that stupid scale. That square of glass sitting on my bathroom floor encapsulates everything that is wrong with the world. I overheard him the other day talking to the other appliances, and I think he tried to take credit for cancer. How can one hope to fight an honorable battle against one such as this? The more time passes the more I realize that this is guerilla warfare, and my belly is the jungle. I have a gas mask, just in case, and I’ve begun sharpening sticks. Last night I even spent an hour throwing a wet washcloth on the scale's surface, screaming “It’s not waterboarding if you’re not real.”
I really need to get out more.
Boxing had to be skipped this week. Instead I watched a guy in a leather jumpsuit do impressive things in front of a video of 80’s people jazzercising. That’s not to say I didn’t get a workout. I did a lot of reps of anxiety drinking. Obviously this was a poor substitute for my usual Wednesday routine, which I guess is why I joined a Dodgeball league the next day. The jury's still out on whether or not I’ll need to grow a mustache to join the league, but if all goes well, you’re looking at the reason “Emerald City Anger Management” is going to lose all of its Dodgeball... meets? Games? Heats? “Heats” sounds funny, we’ll go with heats.
My fear of getting hit in the face borders on ridiculous. I am afraid of it like some people are afraid of heights, or german pornography. I broke out into a cold sweat typing that sentence. Maybe this natural aversion to having some dude named Chad rocket a ball into my nose will prove to be an advantage. I’m probably surprisingly limber, and my panic-induced undulating could be a defensive ace in the hole. I bet if I managed to time my terror gyrations correctly it’d be like trying to play dodgeball with that thing at the end of The Abyss.
Seriously though, I cannot get hit in the face. As an internet non-entity, this is really all I have going for me, and I can’t afford to lose these gorgeous looks. I’m thinking of picking up one of Kobe’s bath salt protection masks, just in case. White people probably just look like Silence of the Lambs in those things. I guess I could always go for the classic Voorhees mask... Man, I’m gonna get kicked out of these league, so quick.
