Sneak Peek (And You Don't Even Need Binoculars)

Why hello ladies and gentlemen and any random hallucinations that might be accompanying you today! I hope everyone has had an absolutely smashing Wednesday (as opposed to one that makes you want to smash things)!

All of you have been so lovely providing me with comments of support and interest in "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus," so my publisher and I agreed that we should indulge anyone who might be curious about its content.

What follows is a chapter plucked from the book itself, like the frosting flower on a child's birthday cake (though with less confectionery gore). 

As always, please let me know what you think and feel free to follow my exploits on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/platypusringmaster) and Twitter (https://twitter.com/AllisonHawn).

34. DANCE LIKE EVERYONE IS WATCHING

Uma Thurman has been credited with saying, “Boredom is the mother of invention.” 

We should not only listen to her because she is an incredible actress and can pull off a white, stretchy, dress phenomenally, but because she is right. However, I would like to add that not only
does boredom breed innovation, it can also be the harbinger of disaster.

I don’t sit still well. I’m kind of a ball of muscle bound energy, and even as I type this I am using my foot to tease a kitten. So putting me in one spot for long periods of time works about as
well as trying to contain a wolverine on Red Bull inside a cardboard box.

At one time, a job I had involved traveling around and giving short presentations on a service the group I worked for had to offer. These were presentations aimed at local businesses in the
hopes of getting them to jump on the bandwagon and support the community initiative my employers were putting forth.

This meant I got dressed up in a suit, did my little Vanna White shtick and then high-tailed it to the next place all the while praying that everyone was running on time.

The day in question had been a long day. I had given 6 or 7 of these presentations, and the last group I was supposed to speak to was a counseling firm with a staff of more than 30 people. The
head counselor there had requested I come in and speak during their staff meeting so that everyone could be present.

I showed up at my allotted time, and was told by the receptionist that things were running a little behind and that if I wanted to sit in the room right outside the conference room,
they’d call me in in a few minutes. I stood in the lobby, staring into nothing, because that was what this room was: A white little box of nothing.

An overhead speaker blared out some salsa music, and I started to tap my foot to the beat. The room literally had no decorations and one, very uncomfortable looking, chair. The minutes dragged by.

After 5 minutes, my foot tap turned into a hip wiggle.

After 10 minutes, the hip wiggle turned into some small dance steps.

After 20 minutes, I had given up at containing myself and was full-blown dancing in this tiny waiting area.

Now, I must explain, I don’t dance. I have a tendency to waltz like one of my legs is shorter than the other, turn a tango into a new sport that involves tackling and somehow make hip-hop look
like a full body dry heave.

I have had one salsa dancing lesson in which the instructor suggested, “I spend my time doing other things.” So, whatever I was doing in the waiting area, was probably not something graceful, rhythmic or even remotely artistic.

The door finally opened, and I immediately stopped, straightened my suit jacket and put on an air of sophistication and poise. I then stared confusedly at the man, who was red-faced with tears streaming down his cheeks as he half-said half-choked out, “We’re ready for you now.”

I entered the room to find the entire staff assembled, all looking quite a bit like the man who had come to retrieve me. The room had two TV’s mounted to the walls, and the content of the
screen looked very familiar.

Then it hit me, the tiny little waiting area had a security camera, and I had just done a one-man show for over 10 minutes set to crappy elevator salsa music. I looked at the screens for a beat, then looked back to the room full of strangers who had just gotten their own personal show, and bowed. The room erupted into applause.

So what slivers of knowledge can be tweezed from the finger of stupidity?

1. Never assume you’re alone. This may sound paranoid, but if paranoia saves you from utter embarrassment, then be as paranoid as you like. Wear a tin-foil hat if it helps.

2. If you’re going to fail, at least do so in a way that makes 30 other peoples’ meeting that much more entertaining.

Thou Shalt Not Sweat on Me!

Hello all you lovely, splendid people! Just a quick update, it appears that “Life is a Circus Run 

by a Platypus,” is on track to be released on May 20 on Amazon.com (followed closely by 

several other venues)! As soon as I have an official link I will post it here faster than a 

greased bunny can be slid across a linoleum floor!

In other news, I have an author Facebook page set up now. Feel free to look me up under 

"Allison Hawn" and keep up to date on news about the book. 

That aside, here is another scribbling from my “Ooooh Squirrel!” brain.

I am a bit of a gym rat, mostly by necessity. I have a genetic make-up that means that if I 

even stare longingly at a piece of cheesecake for too long, I will suddenly pack on some 

extra curves. For this reason, I spend, at the very least, an hour in the gym every day. 

This means over a several year span I have gotten to witness some of the most bizarre/useless 

behavior ever perpetrated around a set of weights. Frankly I'd be willing to leave most of these 

things alone, but when you see them day after day, sometimes you just feel compelled to 

smack certain individuals with a starfish. 

Since I do not have easy access to a starfish and would probably be arrested for assault with 

deadly brainless sea creature, I will instead just write some of the things I have noticed here.  

These are my 10 Gym Commandments. If I could etch them in stone I would (but I learned I 

really should not be given a chisel and a hammer a long time ago).  

Note: I am not a doctor, personal trainer or coordinated tango instructor. I am currently a fitness 

instructor, though, if that counts for anything? As always you should talk to your doctor, 

significant other, best friend, Oprah and a therapist before starting any new exercise plan.  

1. Thou shalt not believe that sitting on gym equipment will magically slim thee. 

I realize that this is a disappointment to many (including myself). The gym has an aura of 

fitness and health to it; however, to contribute and partake in the aura one actually does have to 

move. 

This means that if someone sits on the cable row machine for 20 minutes and does only one 

five-pound repetition, that person is not in fact working out. What that individual is doing 

instead is blocking everyone else in the gym from using the thing that he or she has converted 

into the gym version of a home recliner. The gym, sadly, is not magic.  

2. Thou must not only move, thou must sweat, push and exert thyself. 

Just because one is sitting and bouncing on a yoga ball does not mean one is working out. 

Sadly, I see a lot of females do this.  Doing crunches, dumbbell presses and weighted mermaids 

on a yoga ball are all legitimate exercises. Having a conversation about your nails while doing 

the same movement a 3 year old does in their bouncy chair is not getting you anywhere, 

cupcake.  

3. Thou shalt NEVER mock others in the gym based on their physical appearance.  

Yes, some of us are twigs, some of us are bulky, some of us are, dare I say this word, fat. It 

doesn't matter; everyone has a place in the gym. The fact is that no other person can ever know 

what someone else is capable of, and so verbally disparaging them is just plain dumb. 

I have seen tiny guys do sets of 30 weighted pull-ups, seen full-figured women run faster 

than I could ever imagine going, and I have seen a 300 pound man sustain yoga poses that 

make my limbs hurt just thinking about them. Don't judge, everyone has the right to 

work out just as much as everyone else does.  

4. Thou shalt not believe the weight area is only for males. 

More times than I can count at this point, I have had some hot-shot guy swagger up to me 

while I'm lifting and make some comment about how, "Women should not be in the weight 

area." 

I have no problem then, in front of each one of his friends and girlfriends, lifting twice as 

much as he does, turning and saying, "You're right, we should not be in the weight area, 

we might make you look bad." 

Women are tough, period.  

5. Thou shalt not be self-defeating at the gym. 

I bring up this example because, to my count, I have now seen it five times. I see a person 

on a treadmill (good), going at the slowest possible pace the machine can go (not as good), 

drinking a soda (*thunks head on desk* bad). 

If one consumes more calories while working out than one actually burns, then what purpose 

did going to the gym serve? 

These are the same people who talk on their cellphones, at decibels that could be felt in 

space, about how they are working out, but they never seem to lose any weight. Really, 

Sherlock, weight loss is being elusive?  Come on, let's examine the clues and maybe we can 

solve this mystery.  

6. Thou shalt be conscious of other gym patrons. 

This means one should not pick up weights and then just stand in front of the weight rack 

doing bicep curls. Believe it or not, other people would like to weight lift too, and standing 

there like one of the giant stone pillars of Stonehenge, creates a bit of a deterrent. 

This also means that one should not take eight sets of weights and claim that one is using them 

all.  The only one who can make that claim is an octopus. I realize that some people have things 

like ladder drills or circuits that they want to do and that is fine. But one really does not need to 

monopolize half the weight rack to accomplish one’s goal, I promise.  

7. Thou shalt put it back where thou found it. 

As much as I love scavenger hunts, spending 10 minutes hunting for the 40 pound dumbbells 

only to discover that someone has kindly hidden them behind the foam rollers is somewhat less 

charming than the childhood counterpart of that game. The gym staff are not mothers or 

magical weight fairies; everyone needs to pick up after himself or herself.  

8. Thou shalt wear clothing to the gym. 

I cannot describe the endless parade of things that I see at the gym that make me wonder, 

"Did your mommy forget to lay out your clothes for you this morning?" 

Sweatpants with holes in the crotch (sometimes with underwear underneath, sometimes 

without), shirts that have the sides cut out (so we can see the side of one's abs, as what is left 

of the shirt precariously slips towards getting caught in the machine), shorts that one has to 

stare at for a minute so one can verify they are not a belt and spandex that has been stretched 

so tight that it now has all the coverage ability of tinted saran wrap should probably only be 

worn in the privacy of one's own home. 

9. Thou shalt not hit on other gym patrons with dogged persistence. 

No, you can't buy me a drink. Why? Because this is a gym, not a bar, and I am working 

out, and this is not a date. 

It's fine to flirt, say hi or strike up a conversation with someone at the gym. However, I 

once had a guy sit and stare at me for 20 minutes on the rowing machine before asking 

if I, "Wanted to go out to see the back of his truck." 

Nope! Everyone, guys and girls, can agree, we like our gyms creeper free.  

10. Thou shalt not believe thou's sweat is magical. 

This means that if one leaves a giant puddle of sweat on the machine one just used, 

and then one decides not to use the handy-dandy free paper towels and sanitizer to wipe 

it up, I will look at that individual like she or he just barbequed a puppy. 

Do you want to sit in a puddle of a random stranger's sweat? No? Then why on the 

earth would anyone want to wade through a puddle of yours? No one’s sweat is exempt 

from the grossness factor, wipe it up! 

All that being said, what are the most ridiculous things all of you have seen at the gym?

Idaho, Answers and News! Oh My!

Good evening ladies, gentlemen and any magically literate insects who might be buzzing about.  I hope everyone is having a marvelous Saturday!

I have been receiving quite a few comments and questions regarding my book, Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus, which is set to be released next month. In fact, I just sent back the final draft of the manuscript with my personal seal of approval today!

First of all, thank you all for your wonderful comments and support, it truly warms my heart more than the thought of kittens in mittens delivering hot chocolate. You are all fabulous!

There have been quite a few questions swirling around the upcoming book, and quite a few of them have had a common theme. So to dispel any confusion and kill about 40 birds with one keyboard, I wish to provide some answers to the most frequently asked questions I have received.

> Will there be a e-book format of the book offered?

Yes. The print version of the book itself is set to be released on May 20, and the e-book version should be available through Amazon.com within the next couple of weeks. It will also be released through Barnes and Noble and Ingram's in the following weeks as well.

> Will it be available for pre-order? 

Sadly no, but the book will be available in less than a month!

> Would you be willing to have book readings or signings with local book clubs or at shops?

Absolutely. If you are interested in me attending your shop, library, book club meeting or other event please do not hesitate to contact me at platypusringmaster@gmail.com. Furthermore, if you would like any other information, please do not hesitate to contact me at that e-mail address or through the comments section of this blog.

When the book is released I will be offering a free discussion guide and fact sheet to any book groups that wish to use my book as well.

> Am I in your book?

Some mysteries are best solved through exploration. You will have to read and find out for yourself. ;)

_________________________________________________________________________________ 

And now for something completely different, a Scotswoman in a Toyota!

This past week I had the pleasure of driving down in my car, Hotpocket the Gutless Wonder, and visiting quite a few lovely people in Southern Idaho. It really was rather splendid catching up with all of you that I had a chance to see!

However, there were several times on my trip that I looked around me, like a deer might look at an oncoming crashing biplane, as I uttered, "Only in Idaho..."

The first time I had this feeling I was driving through one of many itty-bitty, blink and you miss them, would be a perfect setting for a horror film, towns. I was chugging along at the reduced town speed of 25 miles an hour, when I happened to look up and see something that almost made me steer off of the road.

A hawk flew extremely low over my car, obviously struggling, with a rather large barn-cat clutched in its claws. The hawk looked extremely confused and a little scared as it tried to keep control over one very angry kitty who was ferociously clawing its would-be predator. Feathers rained down from on high like strange confetti as I passed underneath them. Welcome to Idaho!

Then there was the fact that I was almost late for an appointment because I got stuck behind not one, not two, but four tractors on an eight-mile stretch of road.

At one juncture, I was visiting some friends, and one of them had just bought a new handgun and was showing off his new (unloaded) purchase. Another one of my friends, who is a woman with a PhD might I add, was holding someone's baby and ended up holding the gun as well.

This woman, who is one of the most intelligent women I know, stood there barefoot, holding a baby on one hip and a gun in her other hand as she said, "Yeah, the weight on this one isn't terrible, the sights seem a bit off, though."

I also pulled up beside a woman in my car, who appeared to be eating a potato like a candy bar. Now if that's not stereotypical Idaho, I don't know what is.

In any case, it was marvelous getting to sojourn that direction, and thank you all for your wonderful hospitality! I wish you all a more fantastic week than the thought of a thousand German Shepherd puppies running in formation to the tune of Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water!"