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Saturday, January 15, 2005

The Day I Almost Died (unbeknownst to me).

This morning when I woke up and went to the gym for an 8:00am H.E.A.T class I wasn’t expecting my day to be so dramatic. Now, I am going to have to preface three parts of this story before I get to the point. First, I know I have to address the question as to why the hell I was at the gym at 8am on a Saturday morning, which has everything to do with my New Years resolution. My New Years resolution for 2005 is to run the Lifetime Fitness Triathlon that will take place in late July, which I made because I believe the whole resolution to lose weight idea is way too cliché. This can be easily explained since my life has consisted of one crazy diet after diet including the year- long ephedra-laced Metabolife bender.

Part two of the story includes the cell phone that was given to my 68-year young mother from my father this past Christmas. Nuff said.

Part three is the fact that my father has been a walking medical dictionary since about 1974 when he had his pituitary gland removed because of a tumor (Or as Governor Schwarzenegger says, “too-mah”). Since then he has suffered 3 strokes and is a self-proclaimed "medical miracle" as he is plugging right along at the ripe age of 71. Having been through the ringer with his health, I have developed a phobia that includes phone calls either before 8am or after 10 pm, and anyone coming up to me telling me to “call my mother immediately” which incidentally happened to me today as I was perfecting the one-legged balancing act on the BOSU. Needless to say, my heart instantly jumped and my eyes filled with tears. I rushed over to my coat to grab my cell phone (which was drowned out by the Abba re-mix that was playing over the studio speakers) and noticed that Josh (80% Swank 20% Skank) had called multiple times along with other members of my family. I decided to call him first and found that it wasn’t my father that had caused the call to the gym (thankfully), but my mother’s pure angst that something was seriously wrong with me. Two phone calls from some woman who sounded either drunk or crazed led her to believe that I was somehow about to die. So at this point in time I had calls from my mother, my sister, Josh, and a text message from Damian, who incidentally has something against using the voice option on his cell phone. The cops were almost called and I was nearly the new recipient of an Amber alert, all while I was “lifting” and “squeezing” at the gym.

I decided I had better call my mother to ease her worries, since she was the one to create the mass hysteria. Turns out, I was simply the victim of two phone calls gone wrong. The first, an attempted miss in the form of a voice mail left on my mothers cell phone at approximately 2:30 am, which was incomprehensible due to the fact that the mystery dialer couldn’t complete a sentence and slurred every word that she tried to speak. The conversation that led to the chaos went something like this:
DB (Drunk Broad): Hello?
JM (Jens Mom): Hello?
DB: Blah, blah, blah, blah, slur, slur, slur, slur……
JM: Jen, let me call you back on the home phone, I can’t understand you on my cell phone.
DB: Slur, slur… What? Slur, slur….
JM: What?
DB: Blah, blah, slur, slur, blah, blah, slur, slur….
JM: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??? ARE YOU OK????
Click.

After I had listened to my mother and her hysteria, I had to somehow STILL convince her that I was not abducted, dying, or drugged and that I had been at the gym since at least 8:00 am. It was then that I taught her about the “Call History” feature on her phone, which ultimately did the job and ended up calming her down. As the conversation ensued, it had come to my knowledge that some members of my family had actually contacted each other and had each come up with their own strange theory to my newfound “disappearance”.

It was at this point I decided to remove myself from the drama and join the second class that was about to begin. As I was lifting weights in that second class I came to the realization that in the matter of a half an hour it had been speculated by many members of my family that I had been poisoned by the fumes from Josh’s exhaust-faulty Volkswagen (farfrumbreathen ha!), on some strange narcotic binge, abducted by either humans or aliens, or dying in my home as a victim of carbon monoxide poising brought on by the furnace that is constantly running thanks to the –20 degree weather. Seriously. It was now only 9:30am and somehow I had caused my family to start a search and rescue that led to studio one at the Northwest Athletic Club in Bloomington all because of my moms new cell phone and some toked-out dame in the south suburbs of Minneapolis. Wow. All of this new-found drama led to the realization that it feels good to know that I have people out there that are truly concerned with my safety, and that maybe, just maybe, their imaginative neurotic behavior is their way of saying “We love you.” Nah…they just like the drama, which is O.K., since because of them I will never be bored and I will always have something to write about. I am truly blessed.
Posted by: Jen

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