Bring Me Up (To Date) Before you Go-Go

I know it's been ages, but then again, no one reads this nonsense, so no harm done, but I did really want to do this right. Damn! I made me promises, promises, I knew I'd never keep ... Promises, Promises ...

I know I'm lame beyond belief, but a great deal has happened since last you heard from me. You know what that means...even lame people like me are having cool things happen all the time...It just proves my theory that the world is a pretty cool place to be. I'm in a pretty good mood. I look pretty shitty, but it's pretty much okay. I feel pretty...oh, so pretty...

So the big news is, of course, my big vacation to Sun Valley for the Swing 'n' Dixie Jazz Festival, from which I returned late Sunday evening. I had a grand old time, just as I always do, and I made some new friends, young and old, pretty and ugly, cheap and easy...

I have been planning this trip, in essence for five years, since I frist attended the festival and decided to come back every year, I've just been waiting for the festival to be this fabulous.

More later...

Shiny Happy Fits of Rage

Well, damn. The Moldy Peaches are performing on the wrong night of the wrong week in the wrong town. First of all, for those of you who do not know, MP is my favorite band of all time. They broke up last year. And worse than the tragedy inherent in the breakup of your favorite band, is the desparaging thought that they will be getting back together to perform at a fundraiser for a little-known record label. In New York. When you live in Boise. And actually HAVE the money to go, but have purchased tickets to a traditional jazz festival for that week. Tickets that cannot be returned. And you've made plans to stay with a good friend, who has been getting ready for two months. And there is no way you can go. Even though you can afford to.

Oh, how I wish I were going to be in New York middle of next week. I could see Ira Amyx, meet Adam Green and Kimya Dawson and The Bounncer. I could see the Atlantic ocean. I'm so mad at my obligations. That's it. I will go to New York and London in the summer of 2006 and live it up, just me, KLaLa and the two greatest cities on Earth. I promise. And then I'll move to one of them. Yes, move there. Live there. For at least seven years. Mark my words.

Gym, Spa, Support Group...What Else Does it Do?

Tomorrow marks the grand opening of ShapeXpress, a new women's gym opening just down the street from my home. I was invited to come down and visit the facility for a small circuit training session and introduction to the company with my fourteen-year-old sister. We popped in around 4 and met with Connie, one of five trainers who staff the gym fourteen hours every day. Just inside the door is the main body of the facility, a large room, in the center of which is a circle formation of weight training machines and cardio platformas and aerobic stepboxes, 26 stations for circuit training, 30 seconds at each station, alternating cardio and weight training.

Off to the right is a rack of free weights, a stretching area, a couple of body balls, a gated children's area and a technicolor oasis painted on the walls (by a couple of beautiful boys, from the back, mmm, shoulders).

Beyond the thunderdome...I mean...circuit training area (oops), is a small room with a stationary bike, treadmill and elliptical machine. They're facing a shelf on the wall that house 3 TVs with cable and individual headphones, so I can watch my morning VH1 while I spend an hour on the elliptical. And also nearby is the massage room, with massege table and oils galore.

And then, in the locker room are two infrared saunas, a double headed shower with shower massagers, bottles and bottles of free Aveda products for hair and body(to be used on the premises, not like handouts, although that would be nice), a professional blow dryer, ceramic straightener and curling iron, and two little women's rooms.

I am stoked to join and am feeling the effect of the minute interval circuit training already. Ask me about my beustiful new body next month and I'll tell you if it's worth six hundred dollars a year.

(If you are gasping right now, just remember, I work at a company that requires its employees to sit at a computer all day, a prctise leading to a lot of wide asses. In an effort to combat the fat growth inherent with an operator position, my company has agreed to give me $150 dollars toward the cost of my gym membership every year. Also, the membership is buy one get one free. I pay 300, my mom pays 300, I get 150 back...See how that works. Don't worry friends: I'm still as frugal as ever.)

So Not to be Ashamed

I have revamped vicsfro to be this new weblog for two main reasons:

1) I have changed in too many ways since I started vicsfro to maintain it with the same joy. The glossary no longer applies; the friends have evolved; the locale is different; I am in many ways not the same person. And I am saying this. If even I can discern the change in my life and personality, I've changed.

2) I all of a sudden find myself in a position to surf the writings of other webnerds and comment on their often brilliant posts. And these members of the weblog community reciprocate affection for each other in these comments. It is a little neighborhood of supportiveness (not a real word, someone slightly less evil and wordy would have just said 'support'). And I desire to be a part of this neighborhood. I want a little house in the big woods. A Victorian. With hardwood floors and a bay window. And can you guess what color my door would be?