The Baby Spoon

One day

2010-08-18T02:30:00.000-07:00

One day, rich kids Jack and eminent professors together to go for a walk outside, unaware that they came toadeserted plain. Suddenly, the path next to a pair of leather shoes attracted their attention. This is adoublethencommonenough shoes, and even can be described as ugly. shoe uppers and soles, may have been worn only a thin layer, leathershoes, funny to the front of the looming outline of a shoe toe master mm probably because the time to wear too long, the upper has become uneven. Obviously, this is a pair of shoes of the poor, but not like being thrownaway,butforthetime being hosted on the roadside face it. because the shoes break though, but still see It has taken some careful care of the master of the upper mm tarnished by too spotlessclean.itasquietlyinthewilderness,seemtocryfortheirowndestiny, there seems to be faithfully waiting for the master's return.

almost forgot about this old thing.

2010-05-10T17:45:00.001-07:00

Deleted many, many older posts. Still deciding on what I shall do with this.

sandwiches

2008-11-10T18:22:00.000-08:00

oh, I thought this was worthy of mentioning.

I went to a show last night and the singer announced that he was selling his newest CD's in between the sandwiches and 'Murder By Death' (which was the band I was there to see)

He then said, "You know, a lot of people ask me to describe my music style, and today I think I finally have the perfect answer... I am somewhere between Murder By Death and sandwiches."

He went on, "I love sandwiches. They are my favorite food. In fact, my favorite food is TWO sandwiches."

I fell in love.

Big hands I know you're the one

2008-10-28T10:21:00.000-07:00

You've been sitting here looking out the window. The sky is miserable today, and it was miserable last night... hence the cancellation and postponement of the world series game last night. You've gotten two texts now declaring snowfall, although you have yet to see it. It's raining thick liquid here, which is quite dreary. Today is not a good day for the spirits. It's a good day to listen to "One Last Song" on repeat and think about the strange predicaments you've gotten yourself into, and the annoying sore throat that gives you the unsubtle reminder that you're about to enter the realms of clogged noses and raspy tracheas. This is all hypothetically speaking, of course. Despite the soppy ground, itchy throat, and unrelenting boredom that screams "AVERAGE TUESDAY" you know you have it pretty damn good... don't you?

If you don't, allow me to show you what your life could be like. Today's lesson is about Macrodactyly... almost sounds like the name of a dinosaur, which would definitely rock. But alas, Macrodactyly does not rock at all. Unless, of course, you are a professional Hi-fiver, or just an avid one, at least. Just kidding, that was probably inappropriate and insensitive, which I tend to be quite often.

The Tarpal and Carpal areas of the body are things we take for granted until we get hand cramps from writing long essays or drop the full shampoo bottle on our feet in the shower. Let me try to give you a mental picture of the anatomy of the hands and feet (by bone). The tarsus bones are the bones found in between the tibula/fibula and the metatarsus bones-- not connected to the individual toes. The carpus bones are bones in the wrist between the radius/ulna and the metacarpus bones... again, not connected to individual fingers, unlike the metacarpus bones. Your fingers are made up of phalanges bones, which are connected to the metacarpus (basically the middle of your hand), which then connects to the wrist bones, which are not considered to be a part of your actual hand. The same goes with the foot, starting with the phalanges (toe bones) which connect to the metatarsal bones, which then connect 5 bones called cuneiforms (3), navicular (1), and the cuboid (1) before you hit the ankle bones which is called the talus. Congratulations if you actually read through that.... I am such a boring person sometimes.

Ok, now Macrodactyly is a rare congenital anomaly that enlarges all parts of the hand and/or foot except the metacarpus and/or metatarsus areas of the hands and feet. It's basically a massive overgrowth of bone and soft tissue in these areas of the hands and feet. And when I say enlarged, I mean, it can be seriously bad. Check this out.

Now that is a massive thumb. Still think today sucks for you?

Smells like Fall

2008-10-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was strolling around Ardmore Suburban Square, window-shopping after work. Ardmore is an adorable area, but the Suburban Square, in particular, is fantastic. All of the stores are designed well, inside and out, and the visual designers do an outstanding job.

One store, however, needs major props. As I was walking by William Sonoma, I smelled the sweet yet spicy scent of pumpkins, cinnamon, fermented apples, and ginger. It was the glorious aroma of pure autumn, which stimulated my senses and flooded my brain with visions of pecan pies oozing with melted brown sugar, dried cornstalks, massive piles of multicolored leaves, and morning frost on my windshield. I envisioned double hoodies, steamy breath on a bitter wind, piping hot coffee and apple cider solely for the purpose of staying warm, cough drops, and cold fingers. It is incredible how such simple scents can trigger such intense feelings of euphoria. I was indubitably impressed by the person who recognized the effect that such a scent would have on a passer-by, which did create the genuine desire to go in and purchase all things autumn.

Furthermore, it truly made me appreciate my final Fall season in the United States. Summer is fun, but Autumn in Pennsylvania is truly beautiful. I was disappointed when came the day that I could no longer wear my airy summer and spring dresses, regardless of the fact that I can pull them out again in November when I arrive in Australia. Now I am embracing the winter coats, tights, and argyle sweaters. I suppose I could get ridiculously bored of summer if it lasted an entire year, and I can cherish this chilly intermission while it still belongs to me.

Thank you, person who made the sidewalks around the Ardmore Suburban Square William Sonoma smell like Autumn.

I thought Shark Week was over.

2008-09-30T20:37:00.000-07:00

skateboard... Check
snowboard... Check
Surfboard... hmmm, not so much, just yet?

Chatting with my new aussie friend, Bec, I've learned that the shark problem in Australia is much greater than I had previously imagined.

Just finished hearing about the starving sharks coming up into shallow water to grab some meaty human flesh. She knows of a boy who was literally ripped in half while waiting in the water for a good wave to surf.

Guess I'll have to wear extra shark repellent when I hit the waves. Or just avoid looking like a juicy seal.

In other news:

Yes, in other news. Looks like I am going to have to do a recap on the original post about my family found here. The family is indeed growing, and the lovely photos I included in that post are now outdated.

Steam Roller!

2008-08-15T06:12:00.000-07:00

I'd like to introduce you to a game called Steam Roller. Steam Roller is the best game ever.

You start with a large, round table (it should be an octagon but improvise). I'd recommend having at least 4 people to play, but it seems as though 6 people really get the game going. I also recommend not wearing a white dress while playing Steam Roller (especially if you are a man).

In the center of the table, you will need to place a medium sized bowl, perhaps a mixing bowl... and inside the mixing bowl, place a shot glass-ish type of cup that is just large enough to fit a ping

pong ball inside. Here is a shot of the bowls, courtesy of Teresa's artistic/drunk skills.

Ok, now. Everyone gather around the table. One person begins the volley by swatting the ping pong ball onto the table. The first serve CANNOT go into the bowl, or the server has to drink. Now that the volley has started... if the ball comes to your section of the table you must swat the ball with your hands. Consider your hands to be ping pong paddles. In this game, your hands are referred to as "racquettes/rackettes" since they are like mini racquets. The goal is to volley the ball into the bowl. It can bounce as many times as you want it to, but if you miss the ball, or if it stops bouncing because you are terrible and didn't get to it fast enough, you must drink. There is a beer bottle cap that is passed around the table to each person who misses the ball or volleys it off the table without letting it bounce. Whoever has the beer cap must drink with anyone else who is told to drink. Once another person messes up during the game, you can pass the beer cap to them.

If the ball goes into the bowl, you can make any one person drink. If the ball goes into the shot glass inside the bowl, everyone but the person who made the shot must drink. Here is where it gets amazing. If you are smart, and know that your amazing skills will get the ball into the bowl/glass you can shout "STEAM ROLLER" before the ball actually goes into the bowl. If it makes it in, everyone drinks, including you. If the ball goes into the glass inside the bowl when "STEAM ROLLER" is shouted, you can pick someone to finish their beer.

The best part of this game is that you can really just make up hilarious rules as you go...

Here are a few examples.

1. One guy was smiling too much, and the ball actually bounced off his teeth and went off the table. We decided that teeth are fair game, so you are held accountable for that. He had to drink, and the beer cap was passed to him for screwing up. Try not to smile uncontrollably, unless you plan on volleying the ball back onto the table with your toothy grin.

2. You are held accountable for your beer bottle as well. If the ball bounces off your bottle, the volley is still good, and you can take credit for the shot. If the ball bounces off your bottle and goes off the table, you must drink. You can scold the beer for being awful at the game.

3. No pointing is allowed. You can karate chop at people, but you cannot fully extend the arms. You can also "nub" at people with your elbows. Anyone who disregards these rules must drink. This can be fairly humorous in the fact that people tend to point at pointers, thus forcing themselves to have to drink.

4. If you knock over a beer, you must finish your own beer while feeling ashamed for wasting beer.

5. There is no apologizing. If the word "sorry" is uttered, you must drink.

6. If the ball bounces off your chest, face, or nether regions, it is fair game and you are held accountable for whatever the ball does from that point.

7. There is no double swatting unless the ball bounces off an inanimate object. Your belly is considered to be inanimate, but remember... beers are quite animate and are fair game. So are your teeth. Do not forget this. Stop smiling. Double swatters must drink and restart the volley.

I will make a video of this game and add it for your viewing/educational pleasure. Enjoy!

I am a horrible person

2008-08-01T08:49:00.001-07:00

I was super early for work this morning, so I stopped at the Sunoco to get a cup of coffee. After browsing the plethora of coffee choices, I settled on "Hyper Bean." After a long night of moving out of my apartment, I felt as though I could use a real kick in the butt.

Let me tell you... that stuff should be illegal. About half an hour after I finished the coffee, I began to shake uncontrollably. I still am shaking uncontrollably, and I seemed to have developed temporary Caffeine Tourette's. My fingers continuously do things I seemingly have no control over.

While observing my reaction to "Hyper Bean," I started thinking about the last visit I made to the Veteran's home to visit my grandfather. He is in one of the final stages of Alzheimer's, and when we arrived, he was waiting for his dinner in what appeared to be the Alzheimer's cafeteria. My grandfather recognized my grandmom right away, but no longer knows who I am. We decided to fetch his dinner tray and take him down to a different cafeteria where my uncle and a few of my grandmother's friends were chowing down.

As we waited for the nurse to bring his designated dinner to us, mayhem broke out in the Alzheimer's cafeteria. There was a freaking BAT loose, diving and swooping around everyone's heads. For some odd reason, most people are afraid of bats, so I knew right away that this was going to be good. The nurses started freaking out and screaming, and the Alzheimer's patients were bewildered. To top it off, the windows were secured shut, so no one could try to shoo the bat outside. The more frenzied the room got, the more crazy the bat got.

Now don't get me wrong. Alzheimer's is a crappy, crappy thing to have to deal with... but there were too many classic things going on in this room to note. First off, there was a patient wildly waving her tray around-- shrieking, none-the-less, regardless of the bat's proximity. One nurse, in a panic, actually ducked behind the patients. But the most classic person of all was an Alzheimer's patient at my grandfather's table.

When the bat swooped near us, he stood up and shouted at the top of his lungs, "CALL THE POLICE!" Then he sat down, forgot everything that had just happened, and went back to his meal. Moments later, the bat returned to our side of the room, and he saw it whiz past our heads.

Sure enough, he stood up and shouted at the top of his lungs, "CALL THE POLICE!" and then sat down, forgot about the bat, and returned to his meal as though nothing had just happened.
He repeated this process twice more, and I had to run from the room so no one could judge me silently when I burst into a fit of laughter.

Bats are awesome.

Dead man in a heap of garbage

2008-07-11T10:24:00.000-07:00

So the last dream I had this morning was of an African woman selling the severed heads of her nephews. The weird thing was, I was actually in line waiting to buy one. The weirder thing was that the little heads were still alive. This was taking place in a museum during a wine tasting. I have no idea. This morning I set a Guinness book of world records for the amount of times one can hit snooze before actually getting up, so I had lots of strange, 10 minute dreams. I think I hit it about 7 times.

The morning didn't get any less weird. After pulling up behind a moving truck with the back door retracted, I couldn't help but notice that the entire truck was full of garbage. Then I saw what looked like the body of a dead black man laying on top of the garbage. Immediately, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo. I need someone to show me how to get the photo onto the computer because I am an idiot. So I started freaking out, thinking I had just discovered a moving crime scene, and was about to go all Gil Grissom on their @$$e$, when suddenly the car behind me beeped since I was taking too long snapping photos. The dead man in the truck shot up and looked directly at me holding up my phone with a horrified look on my face.

Looks like zombies are invading Philadelphia.

Here is a close-up of the dead guy. Sorry it isn't more clear. I was driving and snapping at the same time. Safe driving 101.

I think we need to change the "I before E except after C" rule to "I before E except after C and the word weird."

I had eggs over easy today

2008-07-10T11:30:00.000-07:00

That is about the most exciting thing that has happened today.

Last night I re-learned that I am the absolute worst bowler who exists on planet earth.

I don't know how many (innings?) there are in bowling, but the games were never ending and I had a solid score of 17 for most of the game, until I went to the bathroom and came back to a MUCH higher score. Apparently I am better at the game when I am absent. Don't all fight over me to be on your team.

Let me please add that I think bowling is one of the dumbest activities ever, and I still chuckle at the fact that my oldest brother had his own bowling ball and bag. I hope you are reading this, Troy. You big dork.

I also most likely contracted trench foot while walking from the car to the bowling alley. All the sudden, some gooey thing flipped into the heel of my flip flop (or thong, for you Aussies). Looking back in hindsight, I now realize that I must have been quite a sight to see. Marla had a similar reaction in New Mexico years ago when a cockroach ran over her foot in the street.

I looked something like this guy, minus the protestors:

So back to the gooey thing. I just could not get this thing off my flipflop. I finally had to take it off and flail it around a bit, possibly wacking it against the closest object, before it finally plopped off. As we walked away, Sam and I discussed said object. I was convinced that it was one of those little gooey hand things that you slap against walls, windows, people, and animals.

Remember these guys?

Well anyway, Sam, who has to argue with absolutely everything I say, was convinced that it was one of those Haribo Cherries. I was convinced otherwise... actually, more hoping otherwise because if it was the Cherry Gummy, it was probably in someone's mouth before they realized how gross gummies are and spit it onto the ground. I thought I was one of the most stubborn people in the world. Turns out, Sam has me beat. He actually made a bet that I was wrong, and made us walk back to the horror scene to find out who was right.

Let's just say I've been losing a lot of bets lately. There on the ground, perfectly intact, was one of these guys:

And you just wasted a few minutes of your life reading about Haribo Cherries and my feet.

I lost my pearl earring!

2008-07-06T10:41:00.000-07:00

I like to celebrate our Independence Day in style. After driving for about 2 hours on Friday, I realized that I was about to party like a country star, as each cornfield and cow pasture flew by my window.

About a million miles and 5 mountain passes later, I finally arrived at Brad's house. Excitement hit immediately as I saw drunk Flynn staggering down the driveway, with all my drunk friends behind him. I've been friends with the same group of guys forever now- Flynn, Callen, and Dano. Whenever you hear me refer to "the boys," I am referring to the three of them. Ever since college ended we don't get to see each other as much, so when we get together, debauchery is inevitable.

The boys:

This is Callen. We have too many friends named Ryan, Flynn included, so we have always gone by his last name. This gets very confusing when his brothers are around. He has about 500 brothers, and they all look and speak the same way.

When Callen is drunk, his eyes glaze over and funny things happen soon after. ex. pie smashing and the like.

Favorite Callen quotation:

"Turn down the music. I want to smell the chicken."

This is Flynnsac. He is the epitome of an Irishman, from his name to his drinking habits. He will always be the drunkest, most belligerent person at the party, and he will argue with any person or inanimate object. He is a guaranteed good time for any social setting. He uses the word "whore" more than any man I've ever encountered. With that said, I will never introduce him to my mother.

Our relationship mostly consists of abusing each other verbally and physically.

Favorite Flynn quotation:

"I threw up on my poop. Then I pooped on it again."

Please note: He has done this on more than one occasion.

This is Dano. His real name is Dan, of course. I don't think I've ever actually called him "dan" and I don't plan on it. He is usually fully bearded like a mountain man, but this mustache was home grown for a halloween costume. We take halloween very seriously.

Some things:

1. Some guy went crazy with Roman candles and almost blew up all our cars. A firework war ensued.

2. A group of three or four giants showed up and made my normally tall friends look like midgets. Even the girl was about 6'5, and her boyfriend was taller. Barlow stood on a beer cooler during a flip cup match, and still didn't reach their eye level. Of course I had to take photos with the girl, since she was about a foot and a half taller than me. No idea whose camera.

3. Andrey the giant (separate from the other giants) starting forcing tequila down our throats, and I was so gone I thought he was a bar.

4. Flynn and I discovered we knew how to Irish step dance.

5. Flynn whipped out a slip & slide and had an immense amount of fun in it. Alone.

6. Flynn was the drunkest man alive, as usual.

7. Barlow tried on my "bling" and had to wear it most of the night because he couldn't figure out how to get it off.

8. A dance-off happened.

9. We consumed about 5 cows.

10. I was forced to sleep over the following night, and most of the day involved lakes, boating, and water sports. It was wonderful. Oh, we ate another cow the following day. Flynn marinates anything that walks.

Then and Now

2008-07-02T07:42:00.000-07:00

A lot can change in 12 years. I am just throwing the number 12 out there, because Leif doesn't look like he is even one yet, and he just turned 12 this past month. So that would make me be about 12 in this photo. That is the most math I have done in a long time.

I am the one in the middle, looking like I am late for the local Christmas choir, which is slightly better than Shaina, to the right of me, looking like she just escaped a Morman family compound, narrowly missing a forceful marriage to a man three times her elder, after he picked her pretty headshot out of a book.

Ok, that was a bit of a run-on. Anyway, this is us now:

Granted, we do have a much better family photo, but I am not posting it for two reasons.

a. I am at work, and do not have the photo on my facebook. (I might be lying)

b. My mom thought it was the perfect opportunity to take a family photo, since, by chance, we all happened to be in the same house (and state) at the same time. I just happened to be wearing a WIFE BEATER and plaid pants, directly following a long day of swimming. Thanks, mom.

So if you've noticed my insane photo doctoring skills, I managed to include Fred and Royal into Marla's wedding photo using Paint. Remember that program? Well, they don't have photoshop here at work, but it's not like you can even tell the difference. I was forced to use Royal's head from the old family photo because I realized that I really just don't have many good photos of him.

Marla's wedding was at the butt-end of this past September. Shaina is now married, Fred is still MIA due to joining the army, and I am moving to Australia. Oh, and the hot blonde in between Troy and Fred is Troy's wife, Jennifer. She is the coolest. Fairly soon, I will be the shortest person in my family, which has basically become the story of my life. In fact, I might already be the shortest, considering I am wearing heels in this photo, and Leif is looking mighty tall for his age. Aja is already towering over me.

Speaking of height, I was recently discussing height in gradeschool vs. high school with someone. Back in middle school, all the "tall" girls towered over us lowly short girls, and were always asked to get things off high shelves. They also played basketball (typical). I was the wierd, short, punk skater with a mushroom cut from Philly who wore Vans and Airwalks when everyone else in the main line wore New Balance or Nike. Miraculously, in high school, most of the "tall" girls never grew any taller, and most of the shorties shot up like rockets. I aspired to be one of those rockets. I failed. I am still five feet nothing. The only thing that did grow was my hair (thank goodness) and my interest in boys, once I realized I was not one.

Dieting 101/ How to avoid forking your own eyes out

2008-07-01T05:47:00.001-07:00

Ladies, listen up!

I've discovered the perfect, flawless weightloss solution. You have two routes you can take.

1. Have something extremely tragic, nausiating, or traumatizing happen to you.
OR
2. Drink dark beer and skip the gym for almost an entire week. The magical weightloss fairy will visit you in your sleep, and you will drop three lbs in three days.

Let me know how these solutions work for you. I might start charging for valuable information like this.

The other day I was getting reamed out by various family members for running in the Wissahickon with no phone, no ID, and no friends... with weights on my legs. Their argument was, "How will the police be able to identify your corpse?" And then they proceeded to have an intense, gruesome discussion about the girl from NYC who was apparently tortured, forced to stab forks in her own eyes, and was then burned alive... YET still managed to escape her kidnapper. That chick is BAD@$$.

I have a perfectly good explanation for my actions. (I'm in a listing kind of mood)

1. I am invincible.
2. Where am I supposed to keep these things? Should I paste it to my skin?
3. I don't have any friends who are willing to run the backbreaker with me.
4. I prefer to run alone because running buddies annoy me. Once, I actually had someone request a short cigarette break.
5. I was given fair advice on whacking any attackers with my weighted legs.
6. I run like the wind, so catch me if you can. (just kidding)
7. Ok, I ran out of things, but 7 is my favorite number, so I had to have something.

Does anyone have a big, vicious looking, hypoallergenic dog I can borrow daily?

I promise I'll stick to the gym or more commonly traveled trails..

The gift that keeps on giving

2008-06-30T08:00:00.001-07:00

I went to a family party last night at my Uncle Ray and Aunt Donna's house. Uncle Ray and Aunt Donna are my God parents, so I love them more than I am supposed to (besides the fact that they just rock in general) and it happened to be Uncle Ray's 60th birthday/ Baby Will Enever's Christening party. Ok, so being one of seven kids, I automatically have a large family. My mother just happens to be one of 14 kids, so take your family and multipy it by about 3434620 and that's how large our family is... the Burrows side, that is. This isn't even counting the other side of my family.

Our family gatherings are often quite fun and hilarious. The topic turned to my inability to censor myself when people are eating, and how I frequently bring up inappropriate things, such as parasites, which the squeamish are none too happy to hear.

Then, somewhere in the conversation, cousin-in-law Bob says, "Parasites, the gift that keeps on giving."
In which I replied, rather loudly, at a table surrounded by Aunts, Uncles, and cousins, "No Bob, that would be herpes."

Does anyone know where I can purchase these conversation sensors that everyone but I seem to have been born with?

Luckily I have an awesome family with an amazing sense of humour. Love you all!

Oh, by the way... I've been getting a lot of responses to my email and facebook and whatnot, but feel free to comment right here, so we can start some lively discussions.

Gym Vent

2008-06-28T23:43:00.000-07:00

Ok, so everyday I go to this bizarre world that is known as the gym. Everyday I am completely blown away by some of the characters I encounter there. I just have a few pointers for everyone at the LA Fitness of City Line Avenue. This is a rant, so it will be long, bear with me.

Let's start with my "gym stalker."

A guy who looks like a horrid mix between an aged John Travolta and a beefy Nicholas Cage (face-off gone awry) walks up to me while I am in the middle of a set, taps me on the shoulder and says:

gym stalker- "Can I tell you a secret?"

me- "Uh, alright."

gym stalker- "I find you VERY attractive."

He then proceeds to put his fingers to his lips, and says, "SHHHHHH!"

I almost fell off the piece of equipment I was using... Now I knew it was coming sooner or later, since he followed me from one machine to the other, coincidentally positioning himself behind me when I would be working on my lower half... which brings me to tip one.

1. Predators. Do not hit on women at the gym, especially when they are wearing headphones and a scowl that is supposed to be read as, "Do not hit on me at the gym."

2. Obese women in the locker room. I commend you for getting your act together and hauling it to the gym. We have too many overweight people in America (or Philadelphia for that matter) but if you are pushing 200-400 pounds, you are not allowed to strip down to your birthday suit and proceed to bend over in all your cellulited glory... in our faces, while we modestly try to keep our secret spots covered.

3. Unrelenting Mobile Users. Cell phones stay in the locker room. Are you that attached to your cell phone or blue tooth that you need to be having a near heart attack on the treadmill, but still have the energy to be yelling at your baby daddy for missing last months child support check?

4. Steroid Users. I don't speak for everyone, but there is nothing less attractive than a guy who walks around with his banana weight-gainer shake in one hand, and a 50 lb weight in the other, all-the-while staring at his reflection in the mirror. The only thing I've seen you do so far is kiss your veiny biceps, pump a few times, and get a drink of water from the fountain every 5 minutes. Which brings me to the next category...

5. The Non-Gym Gym Users. Why are you here at all? I've never actually seen you use one machine or even step on the treadmill in your way-too-tight Juicy Couture track pants. In fact, all you do is follow around the steroid users (see above) and shake your bajungas in their faces. And again, with the velour track suits... they are about three sizes too small, and it looks like someone poured you into them and forgot to say, "WHEN!"

6. The Gym Over-Achievers: It doesn't matter what time of the day I arrive at the gym. You are there, you are sweaty, and you are still working out when I leave, two hours later. I understand that you want to have a great figure, but give it a rest. Who is going to see your great figure if you never actually step outside of the gym... besides category number 4? And who cares about them? Their testicles are shrinking anyway.

7. Ahh, lucky number seven. Butt Cheek Imprinters. You remember when we still used video tapes and it had the little sticker that said, "Please Be Kind and Rewind." Well, let's apply that to the gym. When you peel your sweaty buns off the machine I have been waiting patiently for, the least you could do is wipe off the butt sweat impression you so kindly left for me. I know I am a small girl, you are a big guy, but this isn't like that cute thing people do when they hold their hands against each other to compare sizes. I do not want to put my precious, sanitized booty in the swampy, stagnant pool you left behind. Wipe it.

I think that covers most of it. There are so many more things I could say, but this will do for now.