It a good thing I think I’m funny, because I’m pretty sure the rest of the world just thinks I’m nuts.

I went back to that stupid gym with that stupid treadmill in front of that stupid window.  And I discovered the worst possible thing.  The gym in my apartment complex is located right next door to the small convenience store where you can buy overpriced chips and toilet paper.  But do you know what people buy there on a Sunday evening?

BEER.

And lots of it.

For 45 minutes I got to watch a steady parade of other residents stroll in looking expectant and saunter out looking triumphant, carrying their 6 or 12 pack of Yeungling, or Coors, or Flying Dog.  It was unbelievably annoying.  Not only did I have to be at the gym (because I’m fat) but I couldn’t go home and end the day with a cold beer (because I’m an alcoholic).  Thanks so much all you jerk-faces, thanks so much!

Funny, or maybe not, but I have no problem with my friends drinking around me.  I go with them to bars, I hang out at wine-night, and for the most part it just doesn’t bother me.  (I did politely nod along last weekend when a friend who knows I don’t drink spent about 10 minutes explaining to me how to make a good mojito.  I think he was just really excited and wanted to pass on his knowledge.)  It’s the fact that strangers get to drink, and get to drink while I am sweating my ass (I know there is supposed to be an “off” after “ass” but trust me, my ass is not off by any means) that gets under my skin.  And makes me want to wail and kick like a petulant child.  It doesn’t make me want to drink, it just makes me want to scream “BASTARDS” at the top of my lungs to people walking by as I’m trudging along on the treadmill.

But because that whole “exercise makes you happy” garbage is actually true (and because I don’t want to get arrested) I refrained from doing any such thing.  Unfortunately, once it is in my head to act out I kind of end up doing something.  (Um, yes, childish.)  All that need to point out my frustration at the absurdity of the universe was still there inside, and it need to come out.

So during the end of my cool-down, as the treadmill was moving so slowly it was as good as stopped, I started taking comically large steps, like Buddy when he’s stuck on the escalator in Elf.  And I was of course laughing to myself.  Anyone looking wouldn’t have thought “oh, she’s pointing out how stupid an almost-unmoving treadmill is.”

Nope, all they saw was a really silly chick cracking herself up with some broad comedy.

But no matter what it is, crazy, frustrated, silly, or sweaty, it’s always better than drunk.

(1 Year, 9 Months and 24 Days Sober)