Monday night confessions, part 1

I Jog. Or Run. Whatever it is people call it these days. I admit it. On a, wait for it, treadmill. At the, yes, gym.

It's the Y though, so it's pretty chill and kind of old - though the treadmills I always run on are new and have FANS built into them. I would like fans to be built into everything. I have a lot of hope in nanotechnology, as anyone who knows me knows, and one of my hopes is that soon there will be clothes made out of fabric with very very very very small fans woven into it. I'm not talking about N1ke Sph3r3 sporto clothing that purports to keep you cool by creating a "climate" btwn your skin and the t-shirt or whatever. Enough of your marketing namby-pamby WORDS, N1ke. I'm talking about clothes I'd actually wear in public. And that would actually keep me cool and dry. It will be nice, the future.

Yeah, so I jogged tonight and it was good, as usual, and the fans did their duty as my heart-rate climbed by helping to keep my face at bright red and not the sweaty, frankly scary, purple colour people with my (pale, pink-toned, "Irish") complexion achieve when under cardiovascular duress. It's not even like I'm pushing too hard - it's just HOW IT IS and how it always has been. I accept it. And now I would like technology to accept it too. More fans in things, thanks.

Oh, confession #2 involves how I ate two bowls of chocolate ice cream. With chocolate bits in it. While half-watching this really dumb new show called something with the name Brian in it. WHATEVER. I RAN.