A Slap Behind the Head

Well, now that I finally got the dough to pick up the New Yorker, I found out that we're once more graced with a Malcolm Gladwell article, this time about some random sports theories.  Which means : we don't care.

I have not been raised to appreciate watching sports, or discussing them.  My more "formative" years I spent living with my mother, who was always very permissive and who didn't expect me to be "into" anything I didn't really like.  This has shaped a personality that some may argue has grown through the years to be out of control, but at least I know what I want, what I like, and what I don't.



This has made my life difficult at some levels, especially in high school or college when I had to take physical education courses against my will.  I wouldn't say I'm "athletic" but I'm muscular enough and in a pretty good shape - I could probably kick your ass any day.  But still, I really just could not go through this hellish experience of being told what to do by a bully turned teacher.

I was always the last to be picked in sports teams, and still would be if I wasn't attending university.  Yeah, all this to say that, well, fuck it : as much as I like Gladwell, I won't read this one.

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It can become tedious staying slim once you reach a certain age, and a certain life rythm.  My metabolism never put me in a situation where I actually had to care about a worry so far out as my belly size, but I feel that the time is slowly coming.  Not drinking beer helps a lot, but eating pastas and not exercising doesn't.



Being just next to Parc Lafontaine, I'll start a new habit tomorrow morning, if by any chance we can be spared by the rain : running.  The idea came to Miss Bijoux when we were watching a SIX FEET UNDER episode yesterday.  She admires people with discipline, and getting your ass up to break a sweat in the morning mist doesn't appeal to everyone, which should be praised even more.

So yeah, on top of biking our summer away, we'll also try to run frequently.  Fight the beer belly.  Even if, as I mentioned before, I don't drink beer.

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Office life has never been so fun.  Have you ever heard about a company replacing their employee benefits with "incentives" ?  The rules are simple : you get no insurances, no paid sick days, and a general disregard from the high heads.  In exchange, they are able to take a fraction of the money they're not spending on you, and givin it back in what I call "crap".



Today we had this event where we had to play mini-golf.  We accumulated points and got to eat granola bars & drink some "naturally fruit flavoured water beverage".  Then I got back to my desk and took a break - life's hard - and when I came back from lounging downstairs, my supervisor had 5$ worth of McDonald's gift cards to give me.  That could seem like an odd choice, if you think about the dangers of working in a call center : you sit there, answer the phone, and don't move.  If you eat a lot, you gain weight.  What better way to help you out than by giving you McDonald's gift cards ?  That's pure genius !

So these incentives and the traditional "pizza days" that we're often treated with only add to the problem.  Oh well.

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Au sein d'un centre-ville à haut coefficient en pitounes, il est souvent hasardeux de tenter de lire Les Caves du Vatican d'André Gide alors que les demoiselles passent, talons hauts et mini-jupes bien en valeur, en se dandinant les fesses, sur McGill College.



Souvenons-nous alors que le soleil est notre meilleur ami, que la journée va arriver à sa fin un jour, et que nous rentrerons chez nous sain et sauf, un peu fatigué peut-être, mais fortement satisfait de rentrer au bercail.