This post verges on crazy, but what the hell.  I joined the Boston Sports Club since arriving here in Allston, and have on several occasions had enough determination to stop eating and walk there.  It's been much easier to get there since SML's Mormon brother-in-law started living with us because the thought of my shirt sticking to the sweat on my back is far more appetizing then it is to pretend that I don't use obscenities to describe how I'm feeling, or how the blood blisters on my toes are screaming for a !#!#$ and a little bit of a @$!%@!%.

On Sunday I made my way through four or five blocks of consumer trash and found myself on the elliptical machine next to who I am almost certain was Joel Derfner.  But I just don't know!  And I can't even believe that I'm writing this, that I'm telling the world that I purchased the book "Swish" to complete a quest on becoming the gayest person ever.  But I swear, that orange hair!  It must have been him; just more fat and less attractive than the picture inside the covers to his books.

And is it really crazy that maybe he just got a teensy bit more ugly and decided to come to Boston from New York to workout?  I told SML this story a day after it happened, feeling paralyzed and giddy that I saw my role model.  He didn't react in the way I wanted him to, by clapping hysterically while jumping up and down.  Instead he gave me that look, that look you give to tell someone they need a stronger anti-depressant, that I'm making up celebrities at the gym.

Well, quasi-celebretiries anyway.  

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