I just finished plotting out a 6.3-mile run for myself on Dr. Nic's Nemesis, MapMyRun, and I'm wondering if my iPod will work for me on this run; because lately the fucker keeps cutting out on me, annoyingly1 informing me that I should stop trying to transfer files to it via a firewire connection2, which I am decidedly not trying to do; in fact, the only thing coonected to it at these times is my earphone plug. And then, even though fully fucking charged, it'll shut down or lock up or some shit.
I swear, if Steve Jobs were here right now, I'd kick him in the n*ts@ck with all my might and say, "So, how d'ya like them Apples, geektard?!1?" Fucking Apple has been coasting for too long on the corporate motto: "We're better than Micro$oft." Big fucking deal if you are! That'd be like me marketing my new cologne, Eau de GlavenI3 with the tagline: You'll smell better than shit! O, at least, no worse.
Post-run: The run turned into a 7.22-mile run at a 9:18 pace. But that's not what I want to talk about.
I spent most of the first 10 minutes of the run wrestling with the iPod — trying to get it to work. As an IT professional, I know how these delicate and temperamental machines should be treated to coax them back to functionality, and, accordingly, I banged it hard against the palm of my hand whilst informing it in my loudest outside voice (I was outside, after all) that it was a cocksucker4. This was a really stupid thing to do while running — i.e., spend most of the time looking at the stupid iPod instead of where I was going. Especially since a lot of the wrestling with the fucking thing happened on the very trails behind the very school where I fell not two weeks ago and dislocated this very shoulder which you can't see but I'm looking at very it right now.
Because running + calling electronic equipment a "cocksucker" = potential fall. And the fact that the electronic equipment is a cocksucker is no excuse.
Long story short, the iPod did start working — told you I'm an IT professional! — and I was able to listen to music for about 50 minutes of my 1:07:25 run. The iPod cut out again when I was less than a mile from home, during "Pure & Easy", and even when I brought my Advanced IT Professional technique to bear — viz., I called it a buttfucking cocksucker — it still wouldn't work. It insisted its battery was drained5.
In any case, the iPod is re-charging now and I'm taking it to work as usual, and it better not cut out on my walk the way it did yesterday because ... well ... are there any other IT professionals out there? Because what do you call your electronic equipment when "cocksucker" and "buttfucker" no longer do the trick?
Monday I went to my first shoulder physical therapy session. Guess what?
Both Andy and Tony are still there6! Andy worked on my shoulder Monday — which mostly consisted of his yelling at it, calling it a "cocksucker" and a "buttfucker".
I asked him if he'd ever thought of a career in Information Technology and Computer Repair. Because he'd be a natural.
They estimate I'll be in therapy for a month, two times a week.
Andy's last name, I see from the printout, is "Overman"! My shoulder is being worked on by Teh Nietzschean Übermensch! This has got to be a good sign!
So Declaimeth Zoroaster!
1 Even more annoying: "annoyingly" is not the word I want here. I sat here for a good thirty seconds, staring blankly ahead, trying to force the word I really want to use here from the back of my brainpan up to the part that comptrols1a quick-thought, reaction, typing and erection-throb frequencies. So far, no go.
1a I'm using "comptrols" here instead of "controls" to compensate for not being able to pull up the word I want and am currently using "annoying" as a placeholder for to show you just how linguistically out of comptrol I am this morning. Plus, I wanted to announce my intentions of running for comptroller general of New Joisey. Not because I always dreamed of becoming a Comptroller — even my dreams are more interesting than that; but rather so I can find out just what it is a Comptroller comptrols. If I win and it turns out Comptrollers spends their day going over Workman's Comp Claims made by Trolls, I'm going to resign immediately, "to spend more time with my family. Really. It has nothing to do with all those
2 *Sigh* This is your life once you reach 50: even your electronic devices say to you: "No way! You're not sticking that in there!" Which is demoralizing enough, but even more so when you weren't even trying to stick that in there.
3 Pronounced O! De Glaven!
4 If anyone from the Garden Apartment complex I was running by at the time of this outburst is reading this post, I apologize and assure you that I was not calling you a cocksucker. But — unsolicited word of advice, here — you should really rethink your decision to live in the Cocksucker Garden Apartment Complex, because you're really asking for it. Especially when there are still plenty of cheap condos for sale in Buttfucker Acres, just down the street.
5 Pffftt! Well of course it was! Wouldn't yours be after all that cocksucking and buttfucking?
6 There may be about 3 people out there reading this who know what I'm talking about.