Top 8 Songs: Week Ending November 29, 2008

1. "Magic Doors," Portishead (from Third)
2. "100 Days, 100 Nights," Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings (from 100 Days, 100 Nights)*
3. "I Keep Forgettin'," Michael McDonald (from If That's What It Takes)
4. "Do Me Good," Amy Winehouse (Digital Single)
5. "Get Gone," Fiona Apple (from When the Pawn...)
6. "Promised Land," Sugarman Three featuring Naomi Davis (from Pure Cane Sugar)*
7. "Machine Gun," Portishead (from Third)
8. "Spiralling," Keane (from Perfect Symmetry)

* Also available on This Is Daptone Records--for free!

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending November 22, 2008

1. "100 Days, 100 Nights," Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings (from 100 Days, 100 Nights)*
2. "Magic Doors," Portishead (from Third)
3. "Brother," Amy Winehouse (from Frank)
4. "Promised Land," Sugarman Three featuring Naomi Davis (from Pure Cane Sugar)*
5. "Do Me Good," Amy Winehouse (Digital Single)
6. "Daykeeper (featuring Muhsinah)," The Foreign Exchange (from Leave It All Behind)
7. "Roosterspur Bridge," Tori Amos (from American Doll Posse)
8. "Baby, It's Cold Outside," Louis Armstrong & Velma Middleton (from Basin Street Blues)

* Also available on This Is Daptone Records--for free!

Notes from Insomnia: November 20, 2008--1:17 AM (EST)

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #111908

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 111908: Spoke to my doctor's assistant, who informed me that swimming is fine--excellent, even. The rest, she told me, is just a matter of working through the soreness. Easier than it sounds? Definitely. So instead of throwing caution to the wind, I threw my clothes in the locker and got with the pool.

Using the trainer boogie boards, I swam a full lap--not without struggling or pausing a few seconds here and there--and felt like I'd done something. One lap led to another and before I knew it, 45 minutes had passed. Like I said, it wasn't graceful--or easy on the legs--but it was done. I practiced breathing drills separately--part of my sinister plan to build up leg/body strength while getting the drills down. Oh, I know the drill, all right!

No steam room performances by either Chitty, Chatty, or any of the Yak-Yak Crew. Though I did see Jesus. (Well--the member that looks like him.) We caught up on what we'd been up to since our last run-in. It was nice--being able to talk to a guy like a guy without having to worry about sexual undertones, sending the wrong signals, and that kind of stuff. Good times.

I was going to say, "thank you, Jesus," but hallelujah seems less...messianic. All in all, a blissed out nirvana was had by this GQ. Of course, I could have a whole other bunch of names for him in the morning, depending on how sore I feel. As they say, "It's in His hands now!"

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #111708

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 111708: Methinks Friday's back-in-the-pool party was behind Saturday morning's soreness. I'm wondering if the reaching over the head during the breaststroke might be the culprit: my spinal surgery took place in my cervical spine, so it stands to reason that my neck would be vulnerable to strain--especially without the discs that used to cushion the bones.

These and many other concerns followed me into the weight room, where I carefully monitored my neck during the arm, shoulder, and back work. The breaks between reps paid off: I made it through without any physical ajada. Only tomorrow will tell for sure, though.

The quietude of my steam room meditation was violated by two fellow black dudes, who played the roles of Chitty & Chatty in the Y's unwitting production of Can't Seem to Shut the Fuck Up. I can't say whether it was a black thing or a bad case of buddy love, but the duo's roles were later reprised by two other black guys who went at yakking as if they'd spent their lives in a fucking monastery.

Fair being fair, I have to take my share of the passive-aggressive blame for not having asked them to shut the hell up. Wonder what I was afraid of: a two-on-one physical confrontation? Making permanent enemies at the club? The realities of steam-room ownership (as in I don't)? Being called a Tom? Or fighting in front of the white members? Obama's election doesn't wipe all the default behaviors away--in this case, the don't-fight-in-front-of-white people rule. Finally--in the interest of the aforementioned fairness, I wonder further: would I have said something to them had they not been black?

I have no idea--at all.

Progress, yes, but there's still further to go.

Kirk Shannon-Butts Does BondAge!

Filmmaker, screenwriter, mens fashion editor, and creative force of nature Kirk Shannon- utts did the styling for the current HX cover in the key of Bond. They called it the "Spy Who Gagged Me," but I prefer to think of it as "the Spy Who Went Gaga for Guys."

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending November 15, 2008

1. "Magic Doors," Portishead (from Third)
2. "The Rip," Portishead (from Third)
3. "The Lovers Are Losing," Keane (from Perfect Symmetry)
4. "Little Rock Star," Lucinda Williams (from Little Honey)
5. "Daykeeper (featuring Muhsinah)," The Foreign Exchange (from Leave It All Behind)
6. "Katie Cruel," Karen Dalton (from In My Own Time)
7. "Sugar Man," Rodriguez (from Cold Fact)
8. "Roosterspur Bridge," Tori Amos (from American Doll Posse)

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #111408

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 111408: There comes a time in every man's life--every man who's ever been to the gym--where the visual onslaught of male penises becomes too goddamn much. I reached that place today. I've heard the term "sausage fest" before, but today's barrage was enough to make me cry "Uncle!" No particular reason--just one member of fellow members too many, I guess--in the shower, in the locker room, the steam room, sauna, dangling here, there, and all over the damn place.

Thankfully, the pool provided temporary respite from the penis parade. My first time back since the shoulder stiffness, and a good time it was. I made a few laps without going into cardiac arrest, which I attribute to the invaluable breathing advice of my friend Mandee. Also helpful: a swimmer named Oksana, who put me to work doing legwork and monitored my breathing technique. Talk about the kindness of strangers! The pool was a little crowded, but I managed to hang in there for an impressive 30-something minutes--my current record--before making a beeline for the showers and shvitz. But don't call it a comeback--even though it is.

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #111208

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 111208: The preemptive senility nearly took me down; I forgot what exercise day today was. I sat on a locker room stool for a good ten minutes, trying to figure out what I was supposed to be dressing for: the bike and circuit machines or the pool. And the winner was: the former--and, of course, me.

I was a little worried about the weight machines after Monday's babysitting, when I realized that my adored, the 50-week-old Ruby, has grown beyond my weight limit. Per Dr. Bendo and Natalia Ruiz-Salmeron's orders, I am not allowed to pick up more than 35 pounds--which is why my weights never get over the 30-lb hump: necessity dictates and, well aware of the consequences, I follow. It works well for things like water coolers and other undesirable objects I'd rather not lift, but not so much for the cute little ones, who melt me every time--especially when they do things like fall asleep on me. And yet, I can no longer carry them to bed--and for this, life is cruel. (Though I'm fully grateful for not being paralyzed as I was once in jeopardy of becoming.)

But I took the arm, chest, and back work slowly--and with sizable breaks between reps--and slowly worked my body back into its own good graces. That plus the hour of on-and-off shvitzing for the shoulders made for a good day at the gym.

Now that I've documented ho sweat, I'm at a photographic loss--one which can be evidenced by the following piece of evidence:

Foot of an athlete with athlete's foot

And so another day closes with the promises of gym attendance fulfilled. "A round of ginkgo biloba for everyone!"

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #111008

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 111008: Today's scheduled swim day was thwarted by my having left my swim cap and goggles at home. Way to start a week: awkwardly. Instead, I mounted EM and went for the usual 30-30. The result: one sweaty mutha-shut-yo-mouth!

No swim cap and goggles here

If my forgetfulness is the worst part of this week, it's going to be a good one.

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending November 8, 2008

1. "Magic Doors," Portishead (from Third)
2. "Spiralling," Keane (from Perfect Symmetry)
3. "'Round Midnight," Amy Winehouse (from Frank: B-Sides)
4. "Deep Water," Portishead (from Third)
5. "If Wishes Were Horses," Lucinda Williams (from Little Honey)
6. "Machine Gun," Portishead (from Third)
7. "Blood of Eden," Peter Gabriel (from Us)
8. "Dead Eyes Opened," Severed Heads (from ComMerz)*

* Originally appeared on Since the Accident (1983)

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #110708

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 110708: The shoulder has finally rebounded from the weeks of hateful discomfort, so I celebrated the best way a Gym Queen would: by working out. I hit the weight machines--lightly--on the arms, shoulders, and back. To ensure I didn't overwhelm the muscles, I used all of 10 pounds of weight to get the body back in the game. It seemed to have worked; the EMS wasn't called--always a good sign.

The Snoopy vs Red Baron wrap seems to be a hit--with me, of course. I've reduced my floor sweat by 100%. It also makes the gym a safer place; I had always worried about slipping on the sweat--or worse: someone else slipping on my sweat. Brrrf!

On my way to the shower, I spotted a sippy cup on an abandoned stool. And I get it: men have children, too. Yet the real chuckle lay in the character on said cup: Snow White.

Someone left their sippy cup out in the men's locker room...

Nothing says genderfuck like a Snow White sippy cup in a men's locker room. It's like something out of "MacArthur Park (Amazon)." Or as my friend Courtney would say, "comedy gold." I didn't get close enough to smell what was in the cup, but that's just how I roll. For all I know it could've been my gift for working through the shoulder pain--and was filled with Bombay Sapphire and tonic with a splash of lime juice, just like Baba likes. Guess I'll never know.

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #110508

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 110508: The gym was pretty quiet today. I'm guessing last night's election celebrations found a chunk of the members hung over and plain old tuckered out. I know I was. Took me all day to drag the rump in to work out, but I'm glad I went, despite my own best attempts not to.

Of course, in my last-minute rush to catch the train in, I forgot my: (a) iPod, and (b) swim trunks. And while skipping the pool was easy enough (no shorts--no swimming), skipping the sound looked to be brutal. So I bought some headphones from one of the discount vendors on 14th Street and plugged them in to EM's headphone jack.

If you've ever tried to use an elliptical machine while tuning the channel for a good one to watch, you know what it is to court disaster. Instead of tumbling to the floor, I settled for a Spanish-language channel, which was playing Reign of Fire with language overdubs. Nothing like the Lucinda Williams, Murs, Portishead, or the African Swim I had in mind, but you know: beggars, choosers, and me.

Much better in Spanish

Speaking of wars to be raged, I'd like to wage one against ho sweat, but my metabolism is a hot, perspiration-prone mess. I get off the machine after a good 30-30 (minutes forward, minutes backwards) session and look like...a ho. Even 30 minutes on the stationary cycle leave me with a shirt so sweaty I can wring it out. Yep: sexy old me. But I came across a few tricks--one that brings my crusade to document the cruelty of ho sweat to an end, the other a way to keep from dripping during my workout. And before you suggest I bring a towel, I'll have you know that I do.

But I digress: I now wear my towel red baron style: slung across my neck and over my shoulder. Not only does it grant me a longer swath of towel to wipe down with, it acts as a sweatband for my neck. Looks wise, it's not the sort of thing that the cool kids would sport--it looks very Where's Waldo--but looking cool is a luxury this sweat fiend can ill afford.

Ho sweat exposed

I really should look into buying Shamwow wholesale. If not to use for shirt material, then for a workout towel at the very least.

Adventures of an Ambivalent Gym Queen, Dispatch #110308

Gym Queen's Log, Workout Date 110308: It appears I may have turned a corner on the shoulder stiffness front. The aforementioned aches seem to be ebbing--a good thing if ever there was one. Consequently, the temptation to jump back into my arm-shoulder-chest exercises was strong. But the thought of another few weeks like the ones prior gave me pause, so I'll give it until Friday.

While I was on the weight machines, I realized I'd been screwing myself out of an optimal workout. I'd been adjusting my seat, but not the arm for the leg curl. Why it never occurred to me before is an embarrassing tale of obliviousness, but for some reason, I saw it today. Once I adjusted, the workout was a thing of muscle-toning beauty. "Huzzah," as my buddy Craig would say.

The thingamawhoosie in question.
The real question is, "What's it called?"

If this keeps up, I could be swimming by Wednesday--in the pool, even!

Top 8 Songs: Week Ending November 1, 2008

1. "Nylon Smile," Portishead (from Third)
2. "Magic Doors," Portishead (from Third)
3. "Time Is Now," Murs (from Murs for President)
4. "Spiralling," Keane (from Perfect Symmetry)
5. "Sugar Man," Rodriguez (from Cold Fact)
6. "If Wishes Were Horses," Lucinda Williams (from Little Honey)
7. "If This Ain't Love (Don't Know What Is)," Nicole Willis & The Soul Investigators (from Keep Reachin' Up)
8. "It's A Long Way To The Top," Lucinda Williams (from Little Honey)