March Sweeps - Day 421

Last night, my cousin and I went to see NOBODY, the new action film starring Bob Odenkirk.

And that's mostly why I wanted to see it.  Odenkirk was a comedian for a long time, before I saw him on "Breaking Bad," in which he was pretty much the only comic relief character.  But then, with the "Better Call Saul" spin-off, he got to stretch those dramatic acting chops, and I became a fan. 

My cousin and I saw the trailer for the remake of DEATH WISH a few years ago, and it bummed me out because it starred Bruce Willis, and he just doesn't work as an ordinary, average man, the kind of guy that you'd never expect to go on a revenge killing spree.  But Odenkirk works.  He's the guy you'd never worry about scratching his car with your door in a parking lot, or calling the other f-word at a baseball game.

The film was a lot of fun, and seems to have done well enough (post-pandemically speaking) that they might do another one, like they did with JOHN WICK, which was very similar to this, though probably just a little more enjoyable.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In March: 2979

Push-ups Today: 153
Push-ups In March: 2921 (wow, I'm gonna have more than three thousand push-ups in March.  Not much for an Olympian or a Los Angeleno, but for me, pretty darn good)

I rode around the yard on rollerblades again, and nearly fell at one point--but didn't--and tried to rake up pine needles with the blades on, regardless of how silly I looked.  I mentioned early in the month that one of the rollerblades dug into my ankle a little, and that I should wear two pairs of socks whenever I put them on . . . but I forgot about that.  And it was no big deal the last couple of tries, but today, I really felt it, and when I bent down to pull my sock up, there was already a bloody raw bit on my ankle.  

And I think--I'm not sure, but I THINK--that anybody who rollerblades really well, or surfs competently, or the Bryan Adams song where he says he played guitar until his fingers bled, would say that you have to be willing to work so hard at it that you do come away bloody, and then do it again the next day.  To get good at something, you have to work your arse off on it, not show up like a tourist or only stick your toes in.  And darn it, I don't know that I want to rollerblade that much.

I knew somebody who was trying to learn to skateboard, and made an Instagram page where it was just uploads of falls and crashes and slips and balance-losings and shots of the board going one way and the human being going the other way.  And 

Rollerblading In March: 9 (of 10)

I got my usual last-Sunday-of-the-month work done and then rewarded myself by eating ice cream and watching "Saturday Night Live."*  I hadn't done any sit-ups or push-ups, and it seemed to take a really long time to get them in, whereas I actively (pun intended) enjoyed doing my run right as the sun was going down.  It was the first day of the year I went jogging with a short-sleeved shirt on.**

Afterward, I had to get some writing done, but I got a message from Gino Moretto in New Zealand.  He had been listening to my podcast with his son, and the son was actually interested in one of my stories.  We chatted for a minute, but it was one-thirty am for me and eight-thirty pm (or as he put it "half eight") for him.  That blows my mind.

I went in and did some writing as fast as I could, and I was surprised I managed as much as I did.

Words Today: 492
Words In March: 24,161

*It was a pretty bad episode, unfortunately.  I'd like to do a podcast sometime about what it would be like to be a writer on SNL.  Seems like it would be a really difficult job.  Coming up with something funny and new every week, and if it doesn't get laughs on the first day, you have to scrap it and write something else that does.  I've heard cast members talk about the pressure to get in sketches and make yourself stand out, and it's gotta be that way with the writers too, except the competition has to be worse, because the cast members are getting written FOR, versus the writers who are competing with other writers.

**I went running pretty much every single day this winter, and never once thought to wear gloves.  Instead, I'd just tuck my hands into my sleeves for half the run, then, when they were good and warm from the friction (sometimes sweaty), I'd let them out and the cold air would hit them like a refreshing fan.  Kind of remarkable, coming from somebody who hates the cold like I do.