Greetings all, this LPC reporting, on this glorious night of the lunar eclipse.
Today was an extremely productive day that went by quickly. Work was solid. I had a 3 hour training session in the morning and then was at the house (group home) from around 1pm-6pm. I decided to call it a day a little early and went home to work where my computer works faster than our circa-1995 issue computer in my office.
Anyway, after working I decided to hit up the gym for some time on the treadmill. I am continuously trying to shrink myself, with the ultimate goal of not having my belly shake when I brush my teeth. Now, to the subject of this post. Walking to the gym I remembered that tonight was the debut of Shaq with the Phoenix Suns. Although I had my pick of treadmills, the only one in proximity to the Suns/Lakers game was next to a woman who appeared to be having a rough go of it. So to set the stage, there was no one on my right, this struggling woman on my left, and no one for two treadmills to her left. Upon getting my water, magazine (to cover up workout stats), and shoes ready, I noticed a distinct fart type smell. Now, for anyone who has been around a gym in their life, sometimes a bit of errant funk will float your way. Thinking nothing of it, I began my run, catching the starting lineups and tip of the Suns game.
I am getting the legs going, hitting up my run and watching Shaq run the floor pretty well. About five minutes into my run, I smell another funky batch of horribleness come my way. Knowing that it was not me, I quickly deduce that this woman is the instigator. Although it does not last that long, it is not pleasant. Five minutes or so go by and I am finding a groove. The woman to my left is on a walk, not looking pleased, and lo and behold, another gross air pocket hits my nose. At this point, I begin thinking of finding another treadmill. However, I am having a great run, so I am not going anywhere. After this present of funk passes, she reaches over on my treadmill and takes a magazine. A stunned look hits my face. I do not say anything because, well, this woman had a “Tell ‘em Large Marge Sentcha” kind of vibe.
Five minutes after the mag theft, she gets done with her walk and offers me my mag back. I politely decline and bask in the glory that is somewhat fresh air. I feel as though Shaq should send me thank-you note for my trouble. At any rate, the Suns will transition nicely with Shaq. At the time of this writing, he is one rebound shy of a double-double.

Alright, that is my story and I’m sticking to it.
Here are some tunes to check out:
The Dave Matthews Band’s Crash. This is most likely a record that many of you own, but have not listened to it in awhile. I highly suggest taking it out, putting in the ole player and give it a whirl. #41, Crash Into Me, and Two Step, are great songs on this album.