Bassy's day at the gym

"I tried out for football today," Bassy announced yesterday evening during dinner. "And, ya know, I sucked. Coach told me I had to lose twenty pounds if I wanted to play."

"So -- do you really want to play football?" I asked him. "I thought you were going to cut that CD."

"I still am -- but I think I have to get in shape first."

"I just wonder if playing football is the way to do it." Dad asked. "Could you find something -- less dangerous?"

So I offered to take my adorable kid brother to the gym. It went pretty good at first, as Bassy and I got on treadmills.

After awhile, though, it became apparent that he needed -- um, a lot -- more work than I thought he did.

Meanwhile, I tried to keep my heart rate up while staying steady on a machine I set to go faster and faster.

Then, in the middle of my workout, the cell phone rang. It was, of course, Sim Weekly magazine. They've been trying to get an interview with me since I FIRST went to Egypt and I've denied their requests. Now that I'm attempting to adopt Satis and Imsety, they've been following me around, everywhere. I feel like I'm being watched all the time, in some kind of warped virtual-reality show.

I thought back to dad's convo the other day, about wanting to hire a personal assistant for me. At the time I told him it was foolish because I'm a grown woman and don't need to be baby-sat. But I can't possibly fend off all these interview requests by myself. I'm tired of it all, really.