Da Gym
Well, I have to admit, I've been slacking on the gym stuff lately. But I gave myself a good tongue lashing (no easy feat, mind you) and started anew this morning in the free weight room. I just can't stand watching the roosters in the room do their little song and dance. You know what I'm talking about if you've been to a fitness club--those guys with muscles that look like they're about to bust through the skin and splatter everyone in the room with blood and muscle fibers; the ones who are so bulked up they walk around like they're wrapped up in a straight jacket and have a corn cob shoved up their ass; the ones that huff and grunt so loud and out of proportion to the weight they're lifting you know they're just trying to get attention. It's like, "Look at me, Disgusting Guy with Exploding Muscles and Corn Cob up the Ass." Don't you just want to go out with me?" Um. No. They're also the one's that like dropping their weights with flare when they've finished a set. Look, no human being drops a weight from a height high enough to cause the fillings to loosen from my teeth unless they're trying to prove a point. In these cases, that point is either "Look! I actually missed my feet this time" or "Jesus Christ, this shit is too heavy. What the hell was I thinking" (Like they're going to admit that one) or "Oops, the corn cob just shifted, hang on while I make a few adjustments" (yuck.) Whatever the point is, it's just fodder for chuckling as far as I'm concerned. Get's my mind off the pain in my quads and the embarrassment of my jiggling cellulite. Um. Is it normal to have cellulite in your eyelids? Hope so. Bye now.