Bootcamp: That GIANT Tire is NOT Decorative

Those tires at the Bootcamp haunt my dreams. I've pressed them up and down, held them over my head for exorbitant amounts of time and taken them for a jaunt up and down 8 flights of stairs.

But I never could have seen today coming.

Today Ruben concocted the most horrific piece of circuit training to come along since the advent of circuit training.

Four of us. Four stations:

• Squats (squatting down so your butt touches a single tire on the ground-- that's about 8" for those of you who don't frequent bootcamps, salvage yards or auto body shops)
• Push-ups (or an excruciatingly long handstand, in my case) with your feet up on a vertically standing tire
• Step-ups onto a maybe 2' box with a set of 15lb dumbbells

and the WHAT-THE-F-AM-I-DOING-THIS-FOR leg:

• suicide sprints (2 sets), followed FLIPPING THE GIANT TIRE THE LENGTH OF THE ROOM, followed by a run up to the 8th floor, while all the while Ruben yelling (cheerleading?) for it to be done faster (naturally)
  

I don't know what I was doing in this group. I suspect since Nickelburg doesn't "do" Wednesdays, they crammed me in there in her place. I managed to get through it, though I think I extended everyone's time on their station with my lack of TIRE FLIPPING skills.

Let me explain: this tire weighs no less than 700lbs. Enough said.

My arms and legs went far past the point of shaking from exhaustion after today. They had scurried over to the land of numb, from which they may never return. I don't know how on earth I'm even awake or alive right now*.

Luckily, I'm out of town for the next few days and won't return there until Tuesday. At which point someone might be kind enough to put the final nail in my coffin and float me gently out into the Hudson.

*Nickelburg did make a good point in absentia today, though: should I survive all of this, I'll probably be down to my starting weight by the end of it. Like, my birth weight. 8 or so pounds. 5'6", 8lbs 3oz. Bikini Season, here I come!

Bootcamp: Progress!

I had a late start this morning (read: ignored the alarm at 6:30a) and decided to go to the class at noon. I completely forgot it was Fitness Test Monday!

When I saw Alex walking around with his clipboard, a pit of dread gurgled in my belly. But today, I proved that gurgle pit wrong!

You may remember on the day of the last fitness test, I only managed to "hang" for 1 second. (can you even really call that "a hang"?)

Today? I'm up to 4 seconds! That's right, friends. 300% progress!

And even though there were only two of us in the noon class, it didn't seem to kill me as much as usual. Don't get me wrong, I could barely breathe and/or walk when we were done, but much less so than usual.

Maybe I really am making progress...

At one point, Alex jokingly asked me when I was headed over to the Marine Recruitment Office. I breathlessly muttered something to the effect of "I don't believe in war" and kept on with my squat thrusts. But it made me laugh, as it reminded me of the time Will and Sang and I were in a debate over strip clubs and why I should or should not go to one. My argument was if they wanted to go, why couldn't I come along*?

Sang's reply:

"Because you'd be asking them if they had health insurance and whether or not they were in a union."

That Sang. What a jokester!

*Besides the fact that I wouldn't be caught dead in a strip club unless it was to make sure the strippers had health insurance and union protection.

Monday. Another Monday.

Slow start this morning. Will and I had a good laugh at this over breakfast.

From xkcd.

How come nobody told me Bozo died?

Was the 4th of July such a big day for me that I missed this news item from July 3?



LOS ANGELES, California (AP) -- Larry Harmon, who turned the character Bozo the Clown into a show business staple that delighted children for more than a half-century, died Thursday of congestive heart failure. He was 83.



I don't watch a lot of TV now, but when I was a kid I devoured the stuff. Clowns scared the crap out of me back then, but that treasure chest of toys? That's the stuff dreams were made of.

Not to say that those sad, scary painted faces still don't induce a case of the willies at times, but awwww...

Bozo's dead?

Sad.

Bootcamp: Best Day Ever

I have little to no recollection of today's workout, except for the fact that it ended with my bootcamp buddy Long kneeling on my back and stretching the crap out of me.

Best. Spa. Ever.*

Seriously. If Ruben and Alex wanted to make a gajillion dollars**, they would team up with Long and offer a Bootcamp Spa Package. For the ways he got my back to crack and my legs to stretch, that winning combo could easily be priced at $400,000/month.

Easy.

It's Manhattan, people!

* Take that, Will Schenk!
** A real number. A LOT of money.

Kung Foolery

Contrary to what it might seem like, there is more to my life than my workout regime. Take, for example, this little play I directed (and had a small part in) last night.

It was part of a festival of One-Acts put on by the Algonquin Theater. I believe we were one of five shows last night, and at the end of each night, one play is selected for publication and will be performed again on Sunday.

When I got home, I was delighted to find an email titled "Tuesday Night Selection", which read:

Tonight the judge's selection was "Kung Foolery" by Brett Hursey, directed by Robin Reed.

It feels good to have been chosen, and it will be fun to do this little play again. The story is simple and funny: a man, Barry (played by the hilarious Matt Hanley) is married to a woman, Karly (the incredibly talented Libby Winters), and when Karly's Mom Lois (me, in a wig that makes me look frighteningly like my own mother, highlights and all!) comes to visit, hilarity ensues.

If you want to check it out, we'll perform again this Sunday, July 13th at 1pm. The Algonquin is located at 123 East 24th St between Park Ave South and Lexington. For ticket info, call (212) 730-4664.

Bootcamp: The Noon Class is NOT 30 Minutes Long!

I REPEAT: it's a full hour, kids. No fun when you think you're gonna have it easy and the hell time doubles! There's no such thing as an easy day in the Boot Camp, no matter how many times Ruben says "Easy Day!" at the end of class.

Today could very well have been the hardest day ever and it's my own damned fault. Misconceptions lead to a very difficult workout. Here are just a few of the minor tragedies that led to my noontime malaise:

• 30 minutes? 1 hour? Who knows. I've heard tell of this quickie class, but it was nowhere to be found today. No sir. Sixty hot, sweaty minutes.
  
• 3 person class. Added personal attention. I have mentioned before that I feel no need to stand out in the Bootcamp. I would much rather hide behind columns and inside giant tires. But it was 2 of them against 3 of us-- we were being hawkeyed. There was no way out.
  
• Hot as hell. Everyone recalls Alex saying on live television that "It's nice & cool in our joint... we have A/C!", but none of us have yet to experience it.* I think they turn it on once we've all safely left the building.

Yep, I got some personal attention today. It seemed to be Ruben's mission to get me to jump over the hurdles rather than climb them as I usually do. This left a couple of fresh bruises on my legs, but I managed to pull it off a couple of times. And not to be left out, Alex made it his mission to see me cross the entire set of monkey bars**, which left me with the most hideous dime-sized blisters on top of the callous farm on my fingers. Good thing my hand-modeling career is no longer my prime focus.

And really, who needs two milestone achievements in one day? I'm no glory hog. I'm still amazed I show up each day!

I also learned a very valuable lesson today: Gatorade during the workout is just not for me. When it was time for my nano-second water break, I slugged a slug of orange Gatorade and it was like having a gigantic candy apple shoved down my throat.

Water Break: n. time in a workout used for catching up on breathing. And sometimes for sipping clear, cool H2O.

Even though today maimed and nearly killed me, it was all worth it when I discovered that the doorman of the building keeps a little hobby going at his post. As I walked past him, I noticed something all colorful and shiny. This little old Irish man makes beaded necklaces! It was perhaps the sweetest thing I've ever seen.***

*I live for the giant fan near the window. It feels sometimes like my only friend.
**When I've said in the past that I did them, I actually meant I did half-- there are about 8-10 ascending to the center, then another 8-10 going the other way. Sue me, it felt like an accomplishment.
*** There is no way on earth that this man reads this blog, but just in case, let me make it clear that it was "sweet" in the MOST MASCULINE way imaginable.

Bootcamp: Slept in, Going at Noon

I always go to Bootcamp at 730am. I've grown accustomed to and really enjoy the sweaty company of the people in my class, I like being done early and ... well... it seems an appropriate amount of self-torture when the alarm goes off at 6:25am.

But today, I slept 'til 10 (*gasp!*, 9:50 to be exact) and am going to the noon class.

I've heard tell of this noon-time class. It's only 30 minutes long. 30 minutes. What bad could possibly happen in 30 minutes?

I guess I'm about to find out.

After four days off, yesterday really packed a wallop. A hot, sweaty, that-girl-looks-like-she-might-barf-on-the-stairs* wallop. So today should be... interesting.

* To my knowledge, nobody barfed yesterday.

Bootcamp: I used to have knees...

I never got around to posting yesterday because the Every Other Monday Fitness Test left me for dead.

Although I've increased my number of sit-ups in 2 minutes and got up and down the 8 flights of stairs faster than last time, my pull-up-esque arm hang still leaves something to be desired. I believe Alex marked my entire group down for a very generous 1 second time.

This test is much like the President's Fitness Test I remember from elementary school: timed running, the dead arm hang, push-ups, sit-ups. One key component WFBC is missing is that box they used to measure how far you could stretch. If this element became part of our bi-weekly testing, I'd certainly be farther ahead on my total score. But for now, I remain further than I was last week and at least a good 14 seconds away from having what it takes to be a lady in the Marines.

Today, we who tested yesterday were broken off into our own realm of hell while half the class did their Fitness Tests. Last time this happened, it was only Sari and I who had already been tested, and this was the intro to the whole Tire Up the Stairs Nightmare. Today, just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, Ruben put on his creative cap and nearly destroyed every joint in my body.

We hit the stairs. Up to eleven. Fine. I did this yesterday in just over 2 minutes, so I figure that that's about how long it will be until it's over. Upon returning to 3, he tells us

keep going down to the first floor and back up.

I asked if we should take the elevator back up from there. Not funny. At all. We get back to three and he says

Ok, now up to 12.

Um... Twelve? Did you not just see me go up 8, down 8, down 2 more and back up those last 2? Tack on up and down to 12 from 3 is 9 up and 9 down which by my masterful calculations means we climbed up and down no less than four billion flights of stairs today.

Before 8am.

Then it was on to fun with weight bars. Presses, curls, my very favorite "skull crushers" (lying on your back with your hands in the air at 90˚, you bring the bar down to your forehead (or, if you're into medical terms, your "skull") and back up. I enjoy these because when you're tired, you can actually rest the bar on your head and the pain that creates nearly makes you forget how much your arms hurt.

There was one moment for which I must credit the brilliant Will Schenk. In the middle of this whole arm routine, we girls got a little chatty. This was apparently not Ruben's goal, as he told us, in not so many words, to shut up and do the exercises. I really took my life (and the lives of both my arms) into my own hands when I whipped back with

You are the WORST. SPA LEADER. EVER.

Did I mention Will never lets me forget that I pay these people to make me do these things?

We also did a round of 100 partner sit-ups throwing a medicine ball back and forth. This one always adds an element of fear to the day since I'm never exactly certain I'm not going to lob an 8lb ball into my partner's nose, á lá Marcia Brady.

And we rounded the morning out with about six hours in plank position, just to make sure we got a sufficient arm workout. Because, you know, if I can still feel my limbs when I walk out, I worry I'm not getting my money's worth.

Bootcamp: New Sneakers Changed My Life (and Fuck You, MTA)

Don't anyone tell Ruben, but having my sneaker thrown into the murky drink was the best thing that ever happened to me. My new sneakers put a spring in my step I never would have imagined possible.

In other news, I can't find shoes to wear to this wedding this weekend and it took me over an hour to get home from Union Square. Love that the MTA is going to raise the subway fair for the third time in like two years. Garrrgh!

(I'm going to go wash that grump away with a quick shower. Have a great weekend, everyone. I'll be in Vermont, possibly barefoot.)

Bootcamp: A Great Day for New Sneakers!

Note to self: Never stop to stretch out a leg cramp in the middle of jackknife sit-ups if Ruben is watching.

Because I did that. This morning. And you know what happened?

My sneaker went for a dip in the ... I don't know what they call it, the pond-y bucket thing over which the rope swing swings.

Hilarious, yes, a little gross, sure, but sort of awesome. I took my other shoe off and continued merrily along with my sit-ups (in near-perfect form, thankyouverymuch). I figured he just did me a favor, actually. After another hell day on the stairs where I took another tire on a field trip to eleven, the thought of not being able to do anything more but crunches and stretching and things requiring no sneakers until the end of class sounded positively heavenly. Until I heard:

"Hit the course."

I'm thinking they're talking to someone else because, ummmmmmm, I can't hit anything. I've got a waterlogged shoe and cannot possibly be expected to do all that barefoot!

"Put your shoes back on."

Now they must be talking to somebody else because my shoe went swimming in the yuck pond!

But sure enough, there I was, putting my soggy shoe back on and hitting the course. Trench foot just waiting to happen.

Luckily, it was actually time for me to invest in some new sneakers anyway.

I shitcanned my sneakers in the locker room, came home and told Will. He chuckled and smirked through the whole story and is currently patting himself on the back for coming up with this clever retort:

"You go to the WORST SPA EVER."

Isn't he funny? Spa. Right. I should start inquiring as to when I get my weekly massage...

Disconcerting

I use Site Meter to track traffic on this blog (yes, I'm watching you. Bwah-hahahahahah hah!).

I found that someone visited my website, probably to the post on the Urbanathlon, from this Google search:

how is mens health going to climb 7 world trade if it fell?

I know this person from Scarsdale NY using Optimum Online's fine internet service probably thinks that World Trade 7 was part of September 11th, but either way, I find this search a little creepy.

Bootcamp: Alex Makes a Funny

I'm headed up to the 8th floor this morning (after 2 trips to eleven- Gah!) and Alex screams:

"REED!"

I have no idea what I could have been doing wrong. He said run up to 8, I ran. (well, to the door at least.) In a state of severe confusion, I turn around. Grinning from ear to ear, he continues:

"Grab two tires and put one on each arm and take them with you!"

I stood there, dumbfounded, wondering if he was actually serious (as Sari and I took a tire for a field trip to ten the other day). Then I remembered something I wrote last week. Maybe blogging about the gym isn't the best idea. Luckily he was only kidding.

I swear, the worst possible thing they could do to us would be an hour of stretching and napping. Jeez, I might never make it through! (hint, hint...)

I Tried, Local Coffeeshop.

Dear Coffee Shop Closest to my Apartment:

I can't go on like this anymore. I tried to rekindle our relationship. I felt like I was holding up my end of the bargain. I came back to you, I ordered coffee, I drank it, I did my work. I looked the other way when you had your Mommy & Me moments. I burrowed my head into my notebook when bratty kids pitched fits, I put headphones in when the chatty Cathies got chatty.

But today, CSCtmA, today you found the camel-back-breaking straw. When you allow your employees not only to listen to awful pop music but to sing along in lieu of collecting my money or getting my coffee, that seals the deal.

I just cannot be in a relationship with the Hot 97 of coffee shops. I'll even settle for the coffee shop on fire.

Best of luck to you.

Bootcamp: Seriously. Why so heavy, these tires?

See this guy here with the giant tire?

That was basically me this morning. Except I was lifting the damned thing over my head. Multiple times. With squat thrusts in between.

Will has decided that I deserve no sympathy for what I'm going through here and loves to remind me that I have paid these people to inflict this "workout" upon me.

See, today it all started with a new iPod playlist. Tired of the satellite radio mix that is played every day (with Parents Just Don't Understand in heavy rotation), Quinn complied a pretty awesome mix that we played this morning.

The first song up was Van Halen's Panama. I dare you to play that song and NOT dance. It's David Lee Roth, friends. The greatest entertainer of our generation. How can you resist shaking it to Diamond Dave's lyrical stylings?!

Well, Ruben caught me, and although I know he thought it was funny, I paid for it. I won't go into details (except to tell you that my tire today weighed no less than one metric ton), but just know that you should save all your joy for before or after the gym. Or maybe shake it in the stairwell...

Jump back, whats that sound ?

Here she comes, full blast and top down.

Hot shoe, burnin down the avenue.

Model citizen zero discipline

Dont you know shes coming home with me?

Youl lose her in the turn.

Ill get her!

Panama, panama

Café Fire!

I'm starting a new writing regimen. On the advice of a few friends, I'm working this week on timed writing exercises-- writing about anything in any style as long as I sit with a notebook for 45 (or more) straight minutes.

I figured a great way to start something new would be to start in a new place. There's this bakery/coffee shop in Red Hook that is quite tasty, well-designed, not super-crowded and they play good music.

So after Boot Camp, breakfast and a quick re-charging nap, I biked over and got to writing. It worked out well, things were flowing, I'm feeling good, and all of a sudden this one customer who had been chatty chatty from the moment he walked in starts getting louder and louder, screaming "TELL THEM NOT TO PUT ANY MORE LIQUID ON IT!"

Not wanting to distract myself from my writing, I paid him no mind. Until he kept on yelling. Then I turned around. Sure enough, there was bright orange light flickering from behind the plexiglass windows into the kitchen.

FIRE!

Cause for alarm? Nah. The three of us that were "working on stuff" just sort of looked around, but generally stayed put. The alarm went off, smoke slowly filled the room, an older couple quickly threw away the last of their cupcakes and hightailed it out the door. But the rest of us just sort of paused.

I overheard one of the kitchen gals telling a customer that by some odd New York State law, they're not required to keep a fire extinguisher in the kitchen (because their cupcakes are so cute, perhaps?), which explains why one guy went running out the front door only to return about 45 seconds later with a fire extinguisher from, I'm guessing, next door.

Anyway, all was fine. I've lived to tell the tale. I am, however, concerned that I actually waited to see if it was going to get so bad that I should leave.

I think this writing regimen is going to work out for me.

Bootcamp: WFBC at the Urbanathlon

The Men's Health Urbanathlon is a serious race-type thingy that goes down in September, involving an 8-mile run, a run up and down the 57 flights of stairs at 7 World Trade, a quick hop over two taxi cabs and scaling a 10' intensity wall.

A number of the Warriors have signed up to do this event (including MyHero, the insane Sari Nickelsburg). I am not one of them. I have pledged to sit at the finish line with a cooler full of champagne, ice packs and Ben Gay.

Ruben and Alex are doing it too, and are helping people train by adding more running and more stairs to the normal WFBC workout.

I'm not sure they understand that I AM NOT DOING THE URBANATHLON and therefore do not require 4 trips to the 11th floor every morning.

(the stairs are making me tired)

Bootcamp: The Nightmare is REAL

I carried a tire up 8 flights of stairs.

I should have seen trouble a-brewin' when Alex told only Sari and me to go with Ruben while the other 8 or so people stayed with him.

When we got to Ruben, he had us grab a tire on which we did squat thrusts, lifting the tire overhead after each one. Torture, you say? Read on.

Then the hurdles, and back to Ruben in Tireland. More squat thrusts. Or squat presses. Or whatever the hell. All I remember is when he said

Ok. Up to eleven.

No, it's not a Spinal Tap reference. He wanted Sari and I each to take a tire and run (ha!) up to the 11th floor and back down.

Amazingly, I didn't die. But I did scream to Sari at one point

Nickelsburg! I'm trapped in this horrible nightmare where they've got me on the stairs with a tire. Wake me up!!!

And there was more, but I don't really remember it. I think I also fell asleep standing up in the shower. Luckily, I did manage to squeeze in a full eight hours of sleep last night, which I believe is the only reason I'm alive right now.

Ride the City

I forget where I stumbled upon this genius little site (probably Gothamist), but for anyone using two wheels (and a helmet!) to get around the city, it's a real find.

Ride the City provides Google Maps with biking directions all over the five boroughs, including where there are and are not bike lanes. You can choose directions by safety or speed or by the most direct route.


For example, I'm headed to Williamsburg this morning to meet a friend and have chosen to go by the Most Direct Route (wearing my helmet makes me feel safe enough to shave 10-15 minutes off my trip). Note in the screenshot above it tells me where there are bike lanes and where to use extra caution. It also makes a note of where there is a bikeway or greenway and where, in case of emergency, there is a nearby bike shop.

They may still be working out a few kinks in the site (for some reason, my map jumped to Rhode Island...), but I consider this an invaluable tool for anyone using their bike for business or pleasure.

Bootcamp: I didn't realize we were in Tokyo!

Ever done "Japanese Sit-ups"?

I did 20 of 'em today and am not quite sure how I feel about it, though my inner thighs are screaming "no, no NOOOOOOoooooo, Dear God, NOOOOOOO! Please don't make us go back there!!!"

Picture it-- partner sit-ups, like in this video:

only when you come up from your back, you fully stand up before going back down. Stand. Up. Vertically. It's a momentum-based affair for sure, and it plays a game of rapid destruction on your thighs (or at least on my thighs).

Something tells me that if you do these on a regular basis, you could get in shape fairly quickly. In the same vein, you might also DIE.

Today was a day of some near-major achievement: I made it almost all the way across the first set of monkey bars.

That's right! I just about achieved something 14,000,000 seven-year-olds do everyday. Dare to dream, my friends. Dare to dream.

So with calloused hands (I'm going to have to tape my hands under the gloves) and broken thighs, I got onto the F train and headed home, exhausted yet invigorated.

At Jay St, just two short stops from mine, a veritable gaggle of children piled into the car, screaming and flailing (ever realize how much pre-adolescents flail? It's dangerous to be seated near them), knocking into my book and generally crowding me and making me nervous. Some sort of field trip gone horribly awry before they even reached their destination. I switched cars at Bergen, and as I was walking off the car and another woman was about to get on I mumbled to her "Um, there's like a bunch of children in that car." She followed me into the last car, opting for whatever quiet the train can provide sans middle-schoolers.

I can be as invigorated as the day is long, I'll never be able to deal with screaming pre-teens before copious amounts of coffee.

Bootcamp: Monday is Fitness Test Day!

• as many sit-ups as you can do in 2 minutes
• as many squat thrusts as you can do in 1 minute
• dead hang on a monkey bar (chin above bar)
• up & down 8 flights of stairs
• run four laps around the gym

and

• The Obstacle Course (hurdles, monkey bars, walls, rope swing, walls, stomach-crawly box-thing, more monkey bars, parallel bars and rope climb)

I won't post my numbers and times here, but let's just say there's nowhere for me to go but up! Exciting!

Today was one of the toughest days I've felt in a while, but at least it sort of flew by.

Oh, Mondays!

Bootcamp: The Gloves Have Betrayed Me!

Weird day today:

• I forgot my magic sweatband and had sweat stinging my eyes for the whole hour.
  
• I hung my shirt up to dry too late last night, so it was damp when I put it in my bag this morning. It proved refreshing for the first minute-and-a-half of class before it turned into an absolute cesspool of fabric softener and sweat. But, if I'm gonna be sweaty, I guess it's nicer to smell April Fresh (or in my case, like Basil)
• And finally, after all that to-do about how wonderful my new gloves are, I managed to get blisters on my fingers above the gloves. They're half-finger gloves, the kind smoking kids in the 80s and on Bedford Ave wear. Apparently I'm going to have to employ an intricate system of band-aids as well.

But other than that and two killer trips up to and down from the 11th floor on the stairs, I feel great. Actually, I'm sure I'll feel great after I take a little nap.

Bootcamp: Beware of the Small Class

There were only four of us in the 7:30am class today. Four lonely souls, squat thrusting for their lives in between bouts of running up and down stairs. Four Warriors, with LOTS OF PERSONAL ATTENTION from Alex and Ruben.

Oddly, this is one situation in my life where I rather enjoy blending into the crowd... Actually, it might be the only such situation.

I can feel my legs cramping as I type this. The stairs are what induced my 4-5 day stint two weeks ago of walking like an 80-year old man and are a constant reminder of how much I want to live in either a) an elevator building, or b) a ranch home.

It was also Fun with Tires day, and we all know how much I LOVE those tires!* Squat presses with the tires, sit-ups in the tires, just plain old holding the tire above your head. What could be better?**

The boys also saw great benefit in sending us running up and down the stairs in between exercises today, which was good fun and good for me.***

I was also given a personal ration of shit from Ruben, who, although I'm sure he was just kidding, went to great lengths to rag on one accessory I wore today which I deemed totally and completely necessary: my orange sweatband. I used to just mop up the copious sweat from my brow with my t-shirt, but since I've sweat straight through it about 15 minutes in these past few days, I felt the need to call in reinforcements. I won't even begin to comment on the laughs he got from my bowling socks. I know it's time to bring my laundry to the laundry ladies when all I have left are the bowling socks. And besides, who doesn't love bowling!?

Hey, at least I managed to wash my shirt last night!

I'm taking tomorrow off (most likely to submerge myself in an Epsom Salt Bath all day long), and will be back on Friday, where I'm sure I'll be running up and down the stairs with tires on each arm.****

*Alex and/or Ruben, if you're reading this, I really mean it, I LOVE TIRES. Doesn't that make you want to take them away from me? Severe punishment for me would be a life without tires! ... I can see now that I'm working my way slowly into a full-blown tire workout... Eeesh.

** Oh, I don't know... maybe if I hid all the tires.

***I'm just digging myself a shallow grave with all this sarcasm. I can feel it. My poor legs can feel it. Must. Stop. Now.

****This is not even possible. I am not capable of this task and feel no need to test that fact. I'm just sayin'.

If Ever There Was a Time to Vote...

Fairly self-explanatory:

via Will
Further reading: Why I knew I liked Dennis Kucinich (via the Village Voice)

Bootcamp: Hot Hot Hot (and Sweaty!)

I was nearly late this morning (damned F train!). Actually, I was a couple of minutes late, jumping right into jumping jacks in progress. Luckily, I was not punished. Not really, at least, more than anyone else.

I don't know what insane forces made me go back just as this wretchedly hot New York summer is starting, but it's HOT AS HELL in that place. So hot, in fact, that I believe we actually were given an extra water break today!

It was a big class this morning-- like 14 or so of us. Which meant a boatload more heat floating around the room.

Good news: I bought those gloves I'd been talking about and managed to monkey my way through almost all of the monkey bars! I love you, gloves! I'm still not sold on the monkey bars, but it felt good to have made some progress.

Maybe I'll have to start hitting the 5:30 or 6:30 class to avoid the heat.

Well... who am I kidding?

Bootcamp: The Early Show

And they mean EARLY.

I woke up around 5:30 this morning to be part of a segment on the CBS Early Show with Alex, Ruben and a gang of six of us from Warrior Fitness Boot Camp.

It was really fun (even at such an early hour), and odd in all the ways live television is fun and odd. Our bit was between an interview with Kate Hudson and a special appearance by some puppies rescued from Baghdad. And at one point, we were surrounded by a children's chorus in orange tie-dyed t-shirts, all clamoring to get behind their GIANT banner.

We did just a quick little workout-- push-ups, squats and sit-ups while tossing a medicine ball to a partner (yes, we all thought we might drop the ball- literally- or get whacked in the face with it under pressure!), and Early Show co-anchor Maggie Rodriguez joined along. I have never seen anyone change out of a skirt and high heels and into workout gear faster than Maggie. It was a feat to behold.

All in all, I basically skipped working out today, since even though we worked up a sweat (as it was at least in the 80s by the time we started), this was nothing compared to a real WFBC workout.

Now that my hand has healed from a gruesome monkey bar incident on Thursday (about which I was too grossed out to blog), I'll be back in action at 730 tomorrow morning.

For any of you who may have caught the segment on CBS this morning, I apologize for my hair. We background folk didn't get invited to hair and make-up.

***UPDATE: In case you didn't catch it, video is here. Remember: we did not, I repeat DID NOT get a trip to Hair & Make-up.

(Re)Bootcamp: Day 3

I'm officially wounded.

It may be hard to tell from the photo, but I've got a blood blister on my palm that just won't quit, and calluses are setting up shop all over my hands.

Damn you, Monkey Bars! Damn you Rope I Can't Climb!!

And damn you, abs. You should look like a full-blown washboard after what I went through for you today! A washboard, damn it. Not a ... well, whatever shape it is in which you've decided to configure yourself.

I've also got a mildly nasty cut on the back of my knee from climbing the walls (that's right, climbing the walls), but that just wouldn't photograph well.


Back in 2003, I took a trapeze/aerial class. We worked in harnesses and flew around this loft attached to cables and such. I would leave there each week with bruises across my lower back that put Domestic Violence to shame. I was working out with a trainer at my old gym at the time and he definitely had the look of 'do you need me to have words with your abusive boyfriend?' on more than one occasion. No punchy boyfriend. I was just doing it for the art. It hurt like hell, but ultimately it was all worth it-- I was in the best shape of my life!

I'm having flashbacks.

I'm headed to Paragon today to buy some gloves. I guess I'm slightly too delicate to really handle all this brutality.

Drop that Popcorn, Tubby!

I have plans with some lady friends to embrace cliché tomorrow night and go see the Sex and the City movie (no comment).

We'll probably have some pre-show cocktails, but what we won't have is any popcorn!

an average large tub of movie theater popcorn – without any added butter – contains 1,283 calories and 78 grams of fat.

I remember back in the 90s when it came out that movie popcorn was as chock full of fat and calories as a Big Mac. For some reason, I believed it even though I'd never seen the actual numbers.

And now that I have... well. I'll have the Twizzlers.

via Gothamist

Bootcamp: And Thus It Begins

After hobbling around on my sadly destroyed calves since Thursday, I made a triumphant return to Bootcamp this morning.

It's official. I'm back. I've got the T-Shirt.

And a familiar cry was heard once again this morning, as it was on Thursday. Amid Round 1 of a billion push-ups, Alex shouted "LOWER, REED!" On Thursday, it was Ruben.

Guess I've got a long way to go before my chest hits the ground. Although if you think about it, I'm really there to avoid that...

I've signed up for three months, which will bring me to September. It's gonna be one long, hot summer!

Will: Weekend Warrior

Will had a very intense afternoon yesterday, as is evidenced by the amount of soaking-through-his-shirt he did.

What daredevil effort produced this deep an expression of pensive thought? What herculean feat forced this level of perspiration?








Oh, he was installing a new hard drive.












The depths one man must probe, all in a quest for more disk space and a faster-running computer. Herculean, I say!

I'll Actually Start Again on Monday

Bootcamp yesterday has left me gimpy today. My calves feel as if they've been shortened a good three inches, which brings new challenges to gross motor skills.

P-shaw! Who needs to walk when you can crawl*!?

So I'll spend the weekend in Epsom Salts and be back in action on Monday.

*sorry, Nickelburg, to have left you flying (crawling?) solo. Not like we work out together anyway since you're all sporty now and work out WITH THE GUYS!!!

Did Anyone Here Do 300 Sit-ups Before 9am This Morning?

I did.

That's right, folk(s). I went back to Bootcamp.

Back when I was dying and sweating my ass off in the winter, I swore OUT LOUD that I would never do it again.

But there really isn't any better way to ... well, work out that hard. Period. I'd never go run fast for an hour straight of my own volition. But I can easily (debatable) endure an hour of insanity with Alex and Ruben at the helm.

The boys have ventured out from the old digs and set up their own shop near Herald Square. It's pretty sweet-- tidier and brighter than the old place, and it's all their own.

A few things have changed:

• no more uniform (read: no ladies in Man Pants)
• slight differences in the core workout (warm-ups, etc)
• no strict use of Last Names Only (once today Ruben actually called me RobinReed-- yes, all at once!)

but a LOT has remained the same, namely one full hour of ass-kicking work out.

And this time, they've got stairs.

Their place is on the third floor of a maybe 15-floor building. One activity today was to run (!) up to 11 and back down. Easier said than done. Then run only up to 10, but with a MEDICINE BALL!!!

And, rest assured, I saw some tires in the joint. I'm sure that torture will resurface. There was one that looks like it was ripped straight off a monster truck. I plan on hiding that ASAP.

I Think I Broke Twitter

If you don't know what Twitter is yet, then you probably do things during the day like spending time out doors, reading or generally being away from your computer.

I, on the other hand, can find myself whiling away hours in what seems like mere seconds.

Part of this is due to things like Twitter. If you take a look over there in the left hand column, you'll see my recent "Tweets". These are postings you can put on Twitter-- minute to minute, nay, second to second updates of ANYTHING. In turn, you can read the minutia of those you choose to follow, and your "followers" can keep up to date on what you're doing. Every second of every minute of every hour and so on.


Well, I just went to bestow upon my 12 followers another random thought I had when I got this picture. Cute, but how the hell are those twelve people going to know what I thought of 3.2 minutes ago?! Fix it, Twitter! FIX IT!

So I had to kick it old school and post here on my blog.

Tree Trucks to the Left of Me, Chainsaws to the Right

I have a few bits of recording to do today before I jet out of the apartment and I'm being perfectly THWARTED by lawn care professionals!

My desk sits next to a window that faces the street. This is lovely for things like light and air, but terrible for sound-proofing needs. Every time I've plugged my mic in this morning, a "Tree Service" Truck starts raising holy hell out on the street below.

I thought I might move my operation out into the living room, but the windows (open or closed) can't protect me from the fellow who was inspired to do some of his own tree-removal or branch gouging this morning. There is an actual chainsaw ripping through the sound barrier in the back yard.

Now the tree truck and the chainsaw could all be part of the same team, but either way, I'm at a loss. I know these guys are working, but so am I! (well, at least I'm trying) And the biggest snag is that there is nothing I can do about it but wait them out.

You'd really have to be a big idiot to confront a dude with a chainsaw for making too much noise.

When we first moved into this apartment, Will had the bright idea to turn the closet in the office into a small recording studio for me. I scoffed, partly because I thought it would be silly to sit in a closet and partly because he mentioned taking the doors off and replacing them with some type of beaded curtain. But now, I think it's time to take him up on that one!

Where Have All the Ad Men Gone?

Will and I bought plane tickets this morning for an upcoming wedding, and this is what we got in our confirmation email:

Really? That's what they're calling it? The airlines desperately need some better Ad Men.

The Final Scene

We just wrapped shooting on the Benchcoach videos. I think we've made some really great little movies over the past 2 days. I'll alert you when they are posted online.

For now, enjoy a couple more photos from today:

Adam Swiderski and Katie Brack

and me

The Cop Scene

I've never done any "live-blogging" before, but I figured this would be prime material for it.

Here's a photo from Day 2 of shooting the marketing videos for Benchcoach.

(l to r) Ian MacRae, Sonny Parmar and Jude Severin.

What Would You Do To Win?

We started shooting today for a series of marketing videos for Will and Sang's company, Benchcoach.com. Here's a sneak peek at some still footage.

It was a great day with a great bunch of people. Day 2 tomorrow. More photos to come, then, eventually, the videos.

It's 9:52am and I'm Having a Cappuccino

"When in Rome..." goes the old saying, "Do as the Romans do." And for breakfast, the Romans Will and I lived near back in 2006 typically enjoyed a cappuccino and a cornetto (a horn-shaped pastry, similar to a croissant) while standing (not sitting) at a bar.

As a lover of a routine and a neighborhood (I'm in total bliss when I know my neighborhood and have established my routine), I was entirely enamored of this aspect of Italian life -- pop into the local bar, have your coffee and pastry and be on your way.

But it was frowned upon, nay, met with shock and dismay, to order a cappuccino after the morning time. You could drink espresso all day long, but you'd be better off walking through the streets in dirty wrinkled clothing than to order milk in the afternoon.

Well, while perusing over one of my new favorite blogs (Will calls this "girl porn" and deems it wholly NSFW), I came across a link to design site Three Layer Cake, where they discuss in detail the finer points of The Great Cappuccino Debate.

I guess, ultimately, it's a load of hooey. But if you need milk in your coffee after lunch in Italy, be on the safe side and stick with a macchiato.

Overheard in Urban Outfitters (6th Ave and 8th St)

Boy Hipster Clerk: Hey, is Michigan less than 100 miles away from New York?

Girl Hipster Clerk: Wha--?

Boy Hipster Clerk: Is Michigan less than 100 miles away from New York, about 100 miles away from New York or more than 100 miles away from New York?

Girl Hipster Clerk: (ponders, yet answers as if her male counterpart invented being a bonehead) Oh. More than. Totally more than 100 miles away. (looks away, still in thought)

True Story. Maybe the U.S. Public Education System really does need more maps.

I Don't Think I'll Ever Have Another Problem Ever Again

Bought this new shower curtain yesterday. Can you imagine anything bringing me down now? It's so pretty!

I bought it as a little reward for something I'll explain at a later day, but yeah, bright and cheery. That's the general mood around this place these days.

Kelly Jean Fitzsimmons on StoryBoard

Kelly Jean sat down with me back in January and told me the incredibly uplifting then heartbreaking then inspiring story of her prom night.

This story touched me deeply; KJ and I are about the same age, so we both had 1990s proms. Though my prom night was a pretty big deal (my dress matched our transportation. 'nuff said?) and I remember it fondly, it pales in comparison to the roller coaster ride that was the Prom of Kelly Jean.

Listen to Every Afterschool Special Rolled into One at StoryBoardAudio.com.

It's Bike Month!

I was on the subway last week and noticed a sign for Bike Month NYC. There was some semblance of a challenge as I recall, a "Ride Your Bike to the Office Every Day" sort of thing.

So today, Will and I dusted off our bikes and helmets, walked them over to the shop, filled the tires with air and biked to Manhattan.

Notice the many layers of protection: a helmet for the head, sunglasses for the eyes and a band for the sweat. (Will opted simply for a helmet and backpack)

We cruised down Clinton St through Brooklyn Heights on a nicely marked bike lane the whole way and ultimately chose the Manhattan Bridge over the Brooklyn, since we were both headed further uptown. Only snag is that the bike lane ends somewhere around Tillary St and leaves you lane-less and facing oncoming traffic. A hair scary for the first ride of the season, but we made it!

Will went to work and I headed to Noho to pick up a copy of my recent commercial from the editors and then I tooled around the West Village and had lunch at one of my all-time favorite cheap-o spots, Caffe Reggio.




Then I went down to Chinatown where this patient little man fixed up the holes in my sneakers*.








While waiting for shoe repair, I sat and got stared at by many an old Chinese man. I assume it's because I'm not Chinese. But hey, that's Chinatown. It was even more intense when we were in Korea!

So, get your bikes out, friends. I spent the whole winter forgetting how much I love the mobility of two wheels. And a helmet. Safety first!

*We're entering a depression, folks. Time to make your stuff last!!

Commercial

Back in early April I recorded a TV spot for Prime Outlets. Today I picked up a copy of it from the editors. I'm floored-- I think it came out really great! Check it out!

Outside My Window

So I'm sitting in the office and movement on the rooftop across the street catches my eye.

Of course, the first thing to enter my mind is "oh, it's Spiderman".

But no, just a man drilling from his roof while a decorative owl looks on from the fire escape.

Naturally. So Brooklyn.

More Voice Work

I recorded another couple of promos for HGTV yesterday, this time for Secrets That Sell and Rate My Space.

I also got a pretty cool gig that really stretched me outside of my knowledge base. I am the voice of the screencasts on Benchcoach.com, the ultimate Fantasy Baseball site.

You're probably asking yourself, 'um, you? sports? and Fantasy Sports at that?'

Yeah, me too.

But see, I know the guys that run Benchcoach, and I'm completely behind what they're doing. So I tried to make it sound believable.

You know, like that I know what I'm talking about when it comes to Baseball, Fantasy Sports and Databases.

On a More Frivolous Note

Will turned me on to Farecast recently and it's completely fantastic.

It's a travel search. You enter where you're going and when you want to travel and it scans all the airlines for prices.

Yeah, lots of sites do that. But what makes this one extra fancy is that it tells you if you should buy your ticket now or wait based on whether or not they think the price will go up or down. You can sign up for email alerts and they'll send it right to your inbox.

I'm watching fares on a July trip to LA right now. Yesterday, tickets were $395 on United. But I haven't purchased yet-- Farecast says wait.

One Reason (maybe) to Fear NYC

Yesterday's post was #300, in case you're keeping score at home. To tone down the high level of excitement a number like that can engender, I thought I'd post this little gem. You've probably already seen it, since it happened nearly a decade ago (in 1999-- yeah, nearly a decade ago), but if not, you may now witness true fear:



I'm not exactly claustrophobic, but this would definitely make me go nuts. I've seen too many movies for it not to! I simply cannot imagine being trapped in an elevator for nearly two days.

I think the video is beautiful, though, even though its subject matter is mildly terrifying. If only this poor guy could have lived the Time-Lapsed version! And it's fascinating to me that he managed to be on surveillance cameras the whole time without doing anything lewd or crazy! I imagine I would have, like, stood on my head a few times or thrown an all out kicking-and-screaming temper tantrum. What restraint!

The New Yorker via Gothamist

Another Reason to *Heart* NYC

Besides just being really cool, this is a great way to deal with all those pesky grocery bags you keep taking (instead of just using a reusable one). So is this.

via Gothamist

There's This Guy Outside Our Window...

... and he sits in his car.

... and he listens to music.

Loud Music.

Loud POP Music. In the double-parked car.

Music from the 80s. The late 80s. And sometimes the early 90s.

I was just treated to Seal's Kiss From a Rose, to which the guy sang along (an odd attempt at harmony). Now we're onto U2.

I'm going into the kitchen and closing all the windows.

It's times like these I miss the crackheads on Avenue C.

A Personal Secretary, perhaps?

When you tend to blather on as much as I sometimes do, it's good to have someone with a keen ear around to transcribe a gem like this one, from the Facebook page of my dear friend, Bryan Enk.

Clearly, the best part about this is being quoted alongside the very awesome Venture Brothers.

Bryan Enk, you wily dog, you!

What is Art?

A question that has plagued the ages.

Google "Art" and this is the first image on the list:

The first Google search item leads us to a site where you can buy stuff (like this masterpiece).

Wikipedia defines Art as

... a diverse range of human activities and artifacts, and may be used to cover all or any of the arts, including music, literature and other forms. It is most often used to refer specifically to the visual arts, including media such as painting, sculpture, and printmaking. However it can also be applied to forms of art that stimulate the other senses, such as music, an auditory art.

I was reading something this morning (for which I can't find the link...) and it led me to this title:

The Dubious Art of Torture

Costa Rican artist Guilermo Vargas Habacuc

tied a starving stray dog in a gallery space in Nicarugua, out of reach but not the smell of food, and let him die.

He argues

The purpose of the work was not to cause any type of infliction on the poor, innocent creature, but rather to illustrate a point.

Is that art? Does all art have to have meaning or "illustrate a point"? Does calling it "Art" lessen the moral or ethical implications of the act? This dog project is basically the installation art version of a snuff film, right?

I have a friend who considers the film Bride of Chuckie "High Art" simply based on the fact that two animatronic dolls have a make-out scene.

I, on the other hand, consider the whole concept of High Art to be defined by this video:

Did You Remember?

To file your tax extension? Or ... do you actually do your taxes on time?

Will Has Some Time on His Hands

Although Will has not yet officially launched Benchcoach*, a new company he's started with his buddy Sang, and he's working many many more hours a week than one should work, he still manages to find the time to do some very useful research.

Behold: Every musical variation on the Super Mario Brothers Theme Song you could ever dare to dream.

What would we do without Japan? Or Finland!?

*If you're into fantasy baseball, you can play around on their site for FREE until May. By then you'll find that you love it so much you'll want to pony up the measly subscription fee for the myriad statistical wonder that is Benchcoach. Because what's the point of playing Fantasy Baseball if you're not winning Fantasy Baseball??? Benchcoach is for winners.

Get Your Heels On, Y'all, It's Time to Go Grocery Shoppin'.

A week or so ago I was lucky enough to have a night free to see my good friends Dan O'Brien and Julie Shavers' new show, Silver Bullet Trailer.

Julie wrote it and you can hear her southern roots and biting humor throughout. Without giving too much away, I'll tell you that Julie plays a very pregnant Sari, whose unborn child longs for a name and takes off (yes!) in search of his maverick cowboy of a daddy. Along the way, the little chap encounters a merry band of crazies and has a considerable adventure for a fetus. Dan directs and hits one zinger after another. It's sharp, smart, funny and harshly realistic in its absurdity. And if I'm not mistaken, this marks the screen debut of their most adorable and already talented son, Ammon O'Brien (in photo with banjo).

It's got another two weeks at the Ohio. I highly recommend you check them out.

Why Make Two Trips...?

... when you can lug 35 lbs. of laundry and 20 lbs. of groceries up three flights of stairs all at once? The ladies at my laundry place think I'm out of my mind.

My arms are jello and the rest of me, a puddle of sweat. What's wrong with two trips, rr?

It Was an Emergency!

On Monday I was doing a lot of running around-- recording session in the morning, back to the Brooklyn to record an audition, grab the car, hit an audition near Grand Central then get to rehearsal.

I think it would be easier to prance through Midtown on your hands than to find parking near Grand Central, so I figured I'd park down in Murray Hill; a more residential neighborhood was sure to have more street parking. Apparently I was not the first to figure this out, as finding parking took longer than I expected.

With about 15 minutes to get twelve blocks up and two across, I hopped in a cab. I thought it was great that the driver seemed to sense my urgency as yellow lights turning red didn't phase him in the least.

On Third Ave approacing 42nd Street, out of nowhere Speed Racer screams,

"Lady! I ain't gonna charge you nothin'. I gotta let you out here!"

I am confused. Things were going so well. Was it something I said?

"I gotta go to the bathroom-- it's an emergency. (pointing left) Grand Central is that-a-way and the bathroom (pointing right) is that-a-way. It's an EMERGENCY. I gotta go!"

I got out of the cab and off he sped. I sure hope he made it.

I've been in New York nearly ten years now and this was the first time anything this hilarious has ever been said to me in a cab. This place never ceases to amaze me.

Working.

Recorded a commercial for the Prime Outlets chain this morning. The audition script was for Prime Outlets in Williamsburg. For the life of me, I couldn't think of where there was an outlet store off of the L Train. Then I remembered the rest of the country does not center around Hipsterville; this was a commercial ready to air in Virginia.

So if you're in Virginia, Florida, Maryland, Western Massachusetts, parts of Texas, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Mississippi or Michigan, keep your ears perked up-- it should air soon.

In other VO news, I bought a new microphone. This was a big deal, as my old one was on the fast track to Deadsville. With the help of Will's friend, audio genius Larry Legend, I am the proud owner of a fancy little Snowball by Blue. Some joker at another store thought he'd try to sell me nearly $4,000 worth of equipment by laughing at my current mic and saying that USB mics are no good, but Larry sent me to the guys at Guitar Center where I was in and out in mere minutes without my credit card getting demolished.

I also recorded another bit of promo for HGTV last week. That makes my tenth or twelfth so far this year.

Am I one of the only people on the planet actually looking to be inundated with work?

Come and Play, Everything's A-Ok!

As I'm sure you could have imagined, Sesame Street is just about the Funnest Place on Earth. Here are some photos from my day on the Street!




The day begins where the real magic happens-- in hair and makeup!











My scene partners, the Triangle Lover's Club!

(l to r: Isaac, me, Jaelyn, muppet Phyllis McCrackin and Triangle Man himself, Mike Haugh)






No wonder Oscar is a Grouch-- that can is not exactly roomy!











Taking five in-- where else?-- Big Bird's nest!













All in all, a great day at the office!

The episode should air sometime in August or September. I'll keep you posted!