Last Wednesday I was furiously powering through the television channels and came across Little People, Big World. The family on this show lives in the same area of Oregon that the beau grew up in, which was enough of a connection to make me linger for a bit. In this episode, the parents took a long trip and stopped in Santa Barbara to see one of their oldest sons, who's apparently attending university here. When they arrived at his apartment I had to sit up, rewind, and and pause that shit. Turns out their kid lives one block down the street from us. Hi, child-of-reality-series-family neighbor!
This is the first entry in what could well end up being a series titled What fuckery is this (denoted via post tag). In this potential series, I explore the inner monologues of the models featured in some of the "best" fashion photos I find on the internet. Or something like that. I haven't really set any strict ground rules in this arena just yet.
So, you may have heard. Sitting down is pretty much the worst thing you could ever possibly do for yourself.
When you sit down? Your risk of cancer, diabetes, heart disease, common cold, allergy, leprosy, rash, scurvy, hangnail, and bad hair goes up a whopping 237 percent. When you sit down? All the electricity in your legs shuts off. That's right: sitting down is effectively your signature on a permission slip that states, "Let my legs fall off!" Just like that. Tomorrow, you are probably going to wake up with no legs, the flu, and a cowlick even the strongest hairspray can't tame.
Think about all the people you've known who have died. Did you ever see them sit down? YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT.
