Gym updates (+ a little Sumo talk)!

I went to Body Pump on Saturday, and I went again yesterday, and the wound on the back of my ankle hasn’t bled again, so I seem to be back for real this time. I have to call that door accident “the dumbest thing to ever keep me out of the gym.” I outdumbed myself with that one. I mean, I can’t say that I ran into a door. I have to say that a door ran into me, and that I provoked it.

I’m going one increment lighter on the back track on account of the quick little “jump” you do to get under the bar for clean and press/power presses. I’m still not doing lunges, because when I tried them on Saturday, I could feel the pulling on the scab. Other than that, everything’s the same in Pump.

As for cardio? Not yet. It’s too early to wear shoes other than high-tops at the gym. (I actually prefer to lift weights in my high-tops because I like the flat soles, so that’s nothing new.)

Speaking of coming back from recovery, September’s Grand Sumo Tournament is less than three weeks away, and Tochinoshin (my favorite Sumo wrestler) has this one opportunity to regain the Ozeki rank he lost to injury in July. He’ll need eight wins to get that rank back this time. He needed ten wins to regain it in May! He got his rank back in May, and he can do it again in September. The thing about Sumo at this level is that you can lose your rank because of injury. Sumo is the only combat sport I can think of that has this feature, which makes for an even more dangerous life for the wrestlers. They already have a shorter life expectancy due to the obesity they need to maintain in this violent sport. What we risk in the name of passion and drive, right?

For anyone interested, here’s a short video showcasing Tochinoshin’s ten wins in May:

 

 

Also speaking of Sumo, we’re looking forward to watching it at 2020’s Summer Olympic Games in Japan! Sumo will be included in the program for the first time, and it’ll be great to see it performed on the largest stage (pun not intended) for the world to appreciate.

 

 

Mr. Nightmare + GYM horrors! (And my Michael Myers horror look.)

I was thinking of doing a gym updates post, but then I came across a video featuring three gym horror stories – creepy horror, not bad-experience horror – and, well, you know me. Gym? Horror? Hello?

Mr. Nightmare is a YouTube channel on which (allegedly) true stories are told, videos that are basically podcasts with visuals. Ranging from mildly disturbing to downright spooky, all of these stories are disquieting in the sense that the events really happened (let’s trust in this) and that they do happen, or at least can happen.

The channel covers a broad range of situations and scenarios. I would say just stay home and lock up, but as we know from Mr. Nightmare’s “home invasion” and “home alone” videos, we wouldn’t be safe at home, either. Plus, we’d starve, because we couldn’t order food for delivery. Who wants their food with a side of terror?

I scanned through the channel’s video titles and deduced that if you don’t want creepy-ass shit to happen to you, here’s how to avoid it:

  • Don’t get a roommate.
  • Don’t stay home alone.
  • Don’t order food for delivery from Postmates, DoorDash, or any food delivery service.
  • Don’t order pizza delivery.
  • Don’t be a pizza delivery driver, or any kind of food delivery driver.
  • Don’t hitchhike.
  • Don’t go to house parties, birthday parties, block parties, or pool parties.
  • Don’t celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, or the Fourth of July.
  • Don’t house-sit, dog-sit, or baby-sit.
  • Don’t have neighbors.
  • Don’t have or go to sleepovers.
  • Don’t date anyone online, enter chat rooms, check your email, or have anything to do with any social media platform.
  • Don’t enter basements, playgrounds, attics, crawlspaces, movie theaters, or schools.
  • Don’t look in the trash.
  • Don’t play hide-and-seek.
  • Don’t ride the subway.
  • Don’t drive on the highway at night.
  • Don’t go hunting, fishing, hiking, or camping.
  • Don’t go to the mall.
  • Don’t go on spring break.
  • Don’t take vacations, field trips, or any kind of trips.
  • Don’t get caught in thunderstorms, snowstorms, fire drills, or blackouts.
  • Don’t go into the sea.
  • Don’t play Pokémon Go, and don’t play with Ouija boards.
  • Don’t take an Uber.
  • Don’t have an automotive breakdown.
  • Don’t go into the swimming pool.
  • Don’t enter the Deep Web.
  • Don’t watch found footage.
  • Don’t lose your phone or your laptop.
  • Don’t work the night-shift.
  • Don’t go to haunted houses.
  • Don’t run into spiders or clowns.
  • Don’t go to Walmart.
  • Don’t go to the airport.
  • Don’t be a trucker.
  • Don’t go to the beach.
  • Don’t go into the forest.
  • Don’t enter abandoned buildings.
  • Don’t play sports.
  • Don’t join the police force or the boy scouts.
  • Don’t buy anything through Craigslist.
  • DON’T GO TO THE GYM LATE AT NIGHT, AND DON’T WORK IN ONE LATE AT NIGHT, EITHER.

I watched the aforementioned “3 Disturbing True Horror Gym Stories” video yesterday:

 

 

Mr. Nightmare is a binge threat for horror fans, especially. The videos are short. Since they’re like podcast episodes, I like to listen to them while I’m doing mundane tasks around the house… I’ve listened to scary-story podcasts, and Mr. Nightmare’s YouTube channel is better, in my opinion!

Craigslist appears on the channel numerous times – I counted five Craigslist videos, each containing several stories – which brings to mind the lady who dropped by to purchase something (my microwave, if you must know). I think it was last week that I told you how I almost forgot to change out of my Halloween Michael Myers t-shirt before she arrived.

That post prompted a request for a Halloween shirt selfie, and it so happens that I took one the other day! I’d just come in from some wild monsoon winds, so my hair was appropriately insane. I tried to get my expression to look like Michael Myers’. I think I got the mouth part right. Also, can we admire how the knife hilt leads up into my coiling hearts tattoo?

 

 

Michael Myers (Halloween) inspired look

 

The end, my friends. Please to check out Mr. Nightmare on YouTube. You will learn SO much.

 

 

You can’t kill the Boogeyman. (Horrors!)

Horror 1: We watched Train to Busan (original title Busanhaeng) on Netflix on Saturday night. Of all the zombie movies I’ve seen, Train to Busan is the only one that actually made me nervous about leaving the house. I was impressed. Zombies are not my favorite horror sub-genre, but Train to Busan is easily one of the best films I’ve seen this year, out of any genre.

Horror 2: Our internet’s been inconsistently slow and prone to disconnecting, as it is every year in August/September. We have a theory that this is due to university students flooding our section of Tempe by the hundreds, if not thousands, stressing our area bandwidth as they settle in for the new academic year. Things always go back to normal around mid-September. It’s not a big deal.

Horror 3: I returned to Body Pump on Saturday and carefully favored my left leg, doing easy squats, passing on lunges, and trying to avoid going up on my toes (difficult to avoid while doing high pulls and clean and presses)… but I still managed to make the wound on my ankle bleed again after it hadn’t bled for days. I learned. I’m staying out of the gym for another week. The dumbbells have migrated back into the house for a home upper-body workout. I’ll head back to Body Pump this Saturday!

Horror 4: I didn’t think I’d be seeing anyone yesterday when I plucked my Halloween horror movie t-shirt out of the closet, but then I got the idea to post an item on Craigslist. Within hours of bowing to this whim, I had a buyer who said she was coming over right away! I headed back to my closet to change.

It occurred to me that she might not appreciate meeting a seller who opens the door wearing a black t-shirt with a shadowy, masked face floating above two pale knives fading ominously into the dark. I quickly changed into my happy brick-red and yellow Lion King shirt with young Simba and his meerkat and warthog friends traipsing above the carefree “Hakuna Matata” line. I figured the buyer would be more comfortable entering the home of a person wearing a sunny Disney animal shirt than a black horror movie t-shirt with murderous Michael Myers in his white mask with his big pointy knives. Am I considerate or what? Come into my lair and buy my stuff. Nah.

Here, I’ve got a pic of Yours Truly in said Lion King shirt. This is from a few weeks ago. I wasn’t going to post it here (it’s on instagram), but while 1). we’re on the subject, 2). I have standing requests for selfies, and 3). I don’t have another pic for this post…

 

(Went to see The Lion King on July 22)

 

Incidentally, Halloween (1978) is my all-time favorite horror movie. I love that t-shirt!

 

 

PSA, Part 2: No pain? Lots of blood? Go to the E.R. (Learn from me!)

Welcome to this unexpected follow-up to my last post.

I thought I had everything under control after I slammed the steel door on the back of my ankle. It took an hour, but I got the bleeding to stop, right? Only after my late-night shower did I realize that the situation was not under control, and it was beyond my management capabilities. I noticed more blood seeping through the jumbo band-aids (I’d stuck a second one over the first).

Of course it was past 11pm! Isn’t it always when you finally decide to go to the E.R.?

At the E.R., the doctor looked at my ankle and said that I needed stitches, but it was too late; the risk of infection was too high. I should’ve gone in for treatment within six hours of the accident. “I’ve been here all day,” he remarked lightly. He was kind.

He leaned forward in his chair as he pensively studied the wound, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded together, chin propped on his knuckles. Then he shook his head and said, “All I can do at this point is try to close it with steri-strips.”

Callaghan, who was sitting on a stool behind the doctor, later told me that the wound was gaping open and jagged around the edges. I’d had no idea. I’d thought I was dealing with a clean cut. The diagnosis on my paperwork says LACERATION, OLD – NOT SUTURED. It then explains that the wound is deep and required stitches, but “in your case, too much time has passed before coming for treatment. That is why your wound was not sutured.”

Can you hang your head in shame and roll your eyes at yourself at the same time? Yes. Yes, you can.

The doctor cleaned out the wound and applied the steri-strips (sticker sutures) to hold the separated tissue together. I felt pressure and pulling, but still no pain. It turned out that my nerves were damaged, so they couldn’t send pain signals to my brain.

This brings me to today’s important Public Service Announcement: if you’re bleeding persistently from an open wound, go to the E.R. right away, even if you’re not feeling pain.

I had it the wrong way around. I didn’t think it was that serious because I felt no pain. It didn’t help that I couldn’t really see the back of my ankle when my foot was up in the basin, but that’s neither here nor there. There was bleeding… it wasn’t stopping… I should have gone in for treatment, period. Instead, I flew into problem-solving mode and focused on resolving the issue myself. I only partially blame the Army for this.

A nurse wrapped the wound with an Ace bandage, and I went home with a set of crutches.

 

When band-aids aren’t enough.

 

Funny thing, Callaghan didn’t even know about the accident until he read my blog post that night! He found out when you guys did. I forgot to tell him about it when he got home from work.

We were told that it could take up to four weeks for the wound to heal completely, but I can get back to weight-lifting after one week of inactivity. It’ll be at least two weeks before I can do cardio again. The wound will fill in from the bottom and the sides, and it’ll scar, to which I say whatever. It could’ve easily been worse. It was my Achilles tendon’s lucky day!

Anyway, guys, if this happens to you, don’t do what I did. If it takes an hour to stop the bleeding, something is wrong. If it’s still bleeding after even 20 minutes, something is wrong! You’ll need professional treatment, and you should go get it within six hours. I waited more than 12 hours, putting myself at higher risk for infection. My scar will be deeper, and my healing time will be longer.

Also, while I’m at it, do remember to update your tetanus shots every five years. That was one thing that concerned the doctor that I actually got right.

[/PSA]

p.s. I found out how to remove ads from my blog! You’re welcome!

 

PSA: hydrogen peroxide is an accomplice to flesh-eating bacteria.

We all do dumb things now and again. Sometimes, our idiocy costs us time. Here’s a scenario: you pull a steel door shut behind you too quickly, as in, it slams shut before your foot leaves the threshold, so the sharp edge of the steel bar at the bottom slices the back of your ankle. You think Achilles tendon close call because you know it’s only a superficial cut, but damn.

It doesn’t hurt, but you hurry to the bathroom because you don’t want blood to get on the floor. In the bathroom, you swing your foot up into the basin and wish you were more flexible. The soap dispenser is empty, but luckily, the big refill bottle is in the cabinet below. You keep your foot under the stream of water in the basin while using what little flexibility you have to reach under and around your leg to get to the soap in the cabinet.

Bloody water splashes in the basin as you keep your ankle under the open tap while smashing the world record in fastest soap dispenser re-filling.

After washing the cut with the anti-bacterial soap, you open the medicine cabinet and snatch your hand away from the hydrogen peroxide the moment you reach for it. You’ve remembered an article you read about someone who was murdered by flesh-eating bacteria. In the comments, a guy wrote that you should NEVER use peroxide on an open wound. Hydrogen peroxide “cuts the oxygen supply and the bacteria goes ballistic into your flesh.” You trust that this is sound advice because the guy survived flesh-eating bacteria, himself, and that was the take-away.

Your cut is about an inch long and deep enough to keep bleeding. Gauze would be helpful. There isn’t any. But there are jumbo band-aids and neosporin. It happens that there’s a roll of paper towels at hand, too. You turn off the water and hold a paper towel compress to the cut. Turns out that it’s awkward holding firm, direct pressure on the back of an ankle, because the back of an ankle is basically skin stretched over a taut rope. There’s no real estate to speak of back there. Plus, it’s round.

You lower yourself to the floor without touching down with that foot (pistol squat bonus!) and open a vanity drawer so you can prop up your foot to elevate the cut above your heart, still holding the paper towel compress on the cut. (V-crunch hold bonus!) When you get up, you quickly unwrap a jumbo band-aid, squeeze neosporin onto it, and slap it over the cut, securing it as tightly as possible. But it keeps bleeding. You can see it seeping under the band-aid. More elevation, you think, but get comfortable this time!

You pistol-squat back down to the ground and crab-walk across the hall into your office with your foot in the air (single leg hip bridge + crab walk bonus!), reach up to grab your phone from the corner of your desk, and lie back on the floor with your foot on the desk chair. You watch the July Grand Sumo Tournament Wrap-Up video (Jason’s All-Sumo channel on YouTube) on your phone and get up when it’s over. The video was 23 minutes long. The bleeding seems to have stopped.

Congratulations! You’ve wasted an hour of the morning on shenanigans set into motion by closing a steel security screen door behind you too hastily… but you were SO excited to retrieve your package from Amazon, and you couldn’t wait to get inside to open it! You really needed that replacement phone case. Now you have it. (Bloody basin, jumbo band-aid bonus!)

 

 

Caveats and other miscellany

[Post Script to my previous post] I watched a YouTube video of Naomi Campbell getting groceries from Whole Foods, and when she reached into the bulk bins for raisins, cashews, and walnuts, I shouted, “Naomi!! Noooooooo!!!” at the screen. I don’t think her past self heard me. I hope she’s not eating larvae right now. I’ve seen her airplane video, too. She should not be eating from bulk bins.

In today’s news, I just spent the last few hours dealing with wiping my phone, subsequently losing all of my contacts, and trying to recover them by DM-ing people on social media. If you have my number already, please text me so I can get you back onto my Contacts list.

Today, you (selfie-requesters) get a pic of me kicking back in sweats on a couch I’m looking into getting reupholstered, against a wall that’s soon to be painted, under a picture that probably won’t be in that spot the next time you see me here, with shorter hair that isn’t styled the way I would normally wear it, and with no make-up except lipstick.

 

It’s July 14, that’s why.

 

Changes around the house are happening aplenty. I hope to have that updated office tour for you next week! I stumbled upon a treasure from the Goodwill, which got me going on a décor theme for this space.

On that note, I hope you’ve all had a good week. Happy Friday Eve!

 

 

Bulk bins: a cautionary tale.

I should’ve thrown out the mixed nuts that first time I found peanut skins joined together and dangling from the edge of the mini popcorn cake I was using as a spoon. When I sifted through the contents of the plastic container with another popcorn cake, I pulled up more of the little chains, each one delicate and wispy, as if formed out of spider webs. Some of the chains were comprised of just peanut skins, while others included tiny bits of the nuts. It was a mystery, but I hadn’t gotten sick… so what did I do? I carried on eating the nuts, day after day, choosing to ignore the occasional, invisible strands.

In my defense, I hadn’t seen any spiders in the mix.

The mystery solved itself when I opened the container yesterday and a small white moth fluttered out. I’d been eating moth silk, which means I’d probably eaten through larvae, as the silk would’ve come from a cocoon evacuated by a mature moth. There would be more than one, right? In all likelihood?

The nuts I’d been eating from that batch at Sprouts weren’t vegan. Oh, well. These things happen! I’m not ill, and the moth is alive and well in the house somewhere, so everyone’s fine. Still, I think I’m done eating from bulk bins. Stores can’t know what’s actually in them, I guess is the lesson here. Bulk foods are generally the thriftier way to go, but I’m not going to pay to eat moth larvae!

It was dumb of me to continue eating the strands of peanut skins and crumbs, but at least I can bring you this Public Service Announcement: proceed with caution when opting to purchase food from bulk bins. Where there’s larvae, there could also be something worse!

Time will tell if there are larvae growing in my gut. You know you’ll hear about it if there are.