Feats of strength

Last night I was watching "Alias" about which: A) I know I'm watching far, far too much television. I have no defense to offer. I am duly ashamed. B) Why have I never watched "Alias?" Actually, I know the answer to that. It's because, like other shows before it (notably "Breaking Bad" which for some reason I thought was about race car drivers) it is not about what I thought it was about. I thought it was some futuristic drama. It isn't. Had I known it was about Jennifer Garner (of whom I'm a big fan) being a double agent rather than Jennifer Garner being some cyborg in the dystopian future, I would have watched it years ago.

Anyway, there she was with no surplus flesh on her body, engaging in vigorous hand-to-hand combat with scores of villains. I began to fantasize about working with a trainer to uncover muscles I must have in there somewhere. I thought, I wouldn't need to be that fit. I mean, after all, she was in her twenties in this, but, you know, kind of fit. And maybe I could take some kind of martial arts class. It would be cool to know how to administer a flying kick to someone's head, should the need arise. While real me continued to sit on the sofa, imaginary me was increasingly becoming a lean, sleek force to be reckoned with.

And then real me tried to open a bag of raisins. And couldn't do it. I had to resort to scissors.

So I guess if you have any villains who need neutralizing, or even snacks that need accessing, I'm probably not the one to call.