Apologies...

I have removed my Tony Snow blog due to, what I have decided, is a case of poor timing. That does not change the fact that he is still an ass.

Yoga vs. Elliptical

Take a look at both of the above images really quick.

Now, we all know in the U.S. of A. there is a degree of femininity prescribed to these two types of physical activity. Thus, I have caught shit from anyone and everyone - family members, co-workers, friends - after going to a yoga class the past two Mondays, the first for free thanks to my neighbor Sarah.

In any event, my roommate Craig Bromberg in particular has taken issue with my participation in these classes, offering such astute, sophisticated critiques as: "You are such a homo."

To which I generally reply with something along the lines of: "Craig, you go to the gym three times a week to spend 30 minutes on the elliptical, and you are calling me a woman?"

Needless to say, I refuse to believe that I am more of a tool for doing yoga than Craig is for riding the elliptical machine, especially since the elliptical is the extent of Craig's physical activity and my yoga is merely complimentary to my weekly running and lifting routine. So, in my opinion, he is the pot which is calling the kettle black.

However, since we could not come to an agreement on our own as to which activity was "gayer" than the other, each of us consulted outside, impartial council Monday night.

Before revealing the results I want to make two things perfectly clear: 1- after having experienced yoga, I can vouch that it is not for the feint of heart, and the elliptical pales in comparison when it comes to level of difficulty. 2- I could give two shits if somebody thinks participating in a yoga class means you swing one way or the other, to me it is irrelevant. I just want to win this argument.

INDEPENDENT COUNCIL

I sought out the opinion of fellow 2004 Miami graduate, Erin Lenger, who happened to be online at the time, and was much more objective than Craig in her reasoning.

aj0232 (Me): what is more feminine... me doing yoga, or my roommate only doing the elliptical - prototypical female workout - when he goes to the gym?
mmlenger (Erin): hmm
mmlenger: that's a tough one
mmlenger: i think that you doing yoga could be seen as more "confident"
mmlenger: i generally have always viewed elliptical machines as female
aj0232: oh god you made my day
mmlenger: however - that was based on my experiences at Miami's rec center
mmlenger: at my gym here - in St. Louis - all guys do ellipticals

Damn... but she was not finished.

mmlenger: ok
mmlenger: put it this way
mmlenger: if i see a guy on an elliptical (based on my experiences at gyms)
mmlenger: i do not at this point assume he is gay
mmlenger: if he is on an elliptical reading people magazine
mmlenger: he's gay
mmlenger: if a guy says he's going to yoga, i don't think he's gay
mmlenter: if he's wearing spandex, he's gay

Fascinating logic. Continue...

mmlenger: anyways
mmlenger: you're not gay because you do yoga
aj0232: well thank you so much for letting me know I am not gay Erin... i was totally unaware of that
mmlenger: hahaha
mmlenger: and don't get attitude
mmlenger: you're the one who brought all of this up
aj0232: yeah, and you were supposed to be on my side here
mmlenger: i think both sides are equal here

Damn. Damn. A stalemate.

Moving on. Craig chose to consult his kid brother Scotty, aka Buddy.

Scotty's point of view was fairly cut and dry, and just as unhelpful.

Drum32882 (Craig): What's more masculine... going to yoga class or exercising on an elliptical?
scottyb73186 (Buddy): Hmmmm... i would say the elliptical, but both are really gay.

Sonofa... oh well, whatever.

Ya done good George

Sweet Jesus, Lord in Heaven. I love you George W. Bush.

All is forgiven.

On Sunday at 2 a.m. I -- and I imagine I am speaking on behalf of 99.9% of the nation when I say this -- instantaneously forgave you (for being president), Dick (for being such a poor shot), Condoleezza (for the gap in her teeth), good old Rumsy (for that one Iraq press conference about the armor), Barry Bonds (for his growing head), Paris Hilton (for being alive) and Michael Jackson (for...), well damn, if I am going that far, I'll even throw in the Grinch.

Whos and humans alike forgive this entire administration for the incredible, Godforsaken, sticky, smelly, oily, snotty, bloody, enormous, 6-and-a-half-year-long catastrofuck (sorry to plagiarize Jon Stewart but I only have so much material) that has been known as your presidency.

At precisely 2 a.m. Sunday morning, as I rode the subway home from the lower east side, watching one bum scorn another bum for "actin' like he ain't got no sense" by sleeping on the train floor, I forgave it all.

My upstairs neighbors here in Hell's Kitchen will sure as hell -- you see how I did that? -- second the motion.

You, sir, expanded daylight savings time.

(I'll pause for the standing ovation here)

Despite merely reinstating the previous dates for an institution thought up by some aristocratic golfers and a fat guy flying a kite, I still wanted you to be on TV at that exact moment, just so we could all see that shit-eating grin curl across your face, right then and there.

You extended the sunlight in my day by an entire hour for an additional month of the year. Some presidents give us a budget surplus, peace treaties and jobs, but you, Mr. President, you showed us the light. Literally.

I knew you could pull it off. I have been rooting for you guys to produce just one single piece of legislation and pull back the clouds, just for a little while, on what many otherwise would have considered the Dark Ages of the 21st Century.

It was certainly worth the wait. You did not disappoint. Mission finally accomplished.

So, as I walk home from work at 6 p.m. basking in that oh-so-sweet sunlight all the while from now until November, I can finally tell myself that the sky over Washington is now only figuratively dark.

Cue the sick bastards

When was the last time you saw or heard a reference to these toolboxes?

Yeah, that's what I thought. It's been a while. Well, I wish I could say the same.

Sunday night a tent was set up down the street outside some bar called the Supper Club that I never noticed before. Weird, but not that weird considering what else you run into out here -- one of my roommates last weekend saw a man laying face down on the sidewalk, not moving. What did my roommate do? Step right over him, no call to the cops or anything... anyway, that's beside the point.

Monday morning on my way to work, there are a couple more tents outside the bar I never noticed until the night before. This morning, a couple more. So I take a look at the poster on the outside wall of the bar. Yep, you guessed it, tonight the MMMM Bop triplets themselves are performing, if you want to call it that.

"Seriously? Hanson?" I thought to myself while getting on the subway. After momentary bewilderment it was out of my head for the rest of the day.

Then, as I am getting off the train this evening I turn a corner and there is a line wrapping around the block to go to this little hole-in-the-wall bar that I had not noticed for more than a year until just 48 hours ago. Needless to say, my first thought upon seeing that was: "What is wrong with with these people?"

Well, a lot as it turns out.

Sure, as expected, the line was mostly made up of little girls. However, intermingling with these teenie-boppers was about a dozen of the creepiest looking old men I have ever seen.

Clearly not chaperoning anybody, these dudes were hard core pederasses... no doubt about it. One guy was wearing a jean jacket with "HANSON" written across the back in bright pink letters. Another had pinned to his pants one of those over-sized buttons -- you know, the New Kids on the Block variety worn by fourth-grade girls back in 1991. Another one of these freaks was wearing what looked like a homemade t-shirt with ironed-on faces of those three then-kids on the front.

Mustaches, shifty eyes, fanny packs, the whole shebang. All these guys were missing was a neon sign fixed above their heads flashing the words "I Love Little Boys."

I wanted to walk up to each of them, one by one, and scream into their faces, through a bullhorn: "Step away from the children!"

What were these parents thinking standing in line there, in many cases, right between their kid(s) and one of these turds? I would assume something along the lines of "good Lord what have I done to deserve this?" and "good Lord what have I done to deserve this?"

One thing is for certain... things sure are looking up for Hanson these days.