The twist is that I am not a techno-wizard. I do not have such a limber wrist.
I do, however, have a facebook page which, to me, is the technological equivalent of giving a caveman a slide rule (watch it fizz!). I do realize the irony that I have made a blog to help geeks get into shape, but yet I have almost no clue as to how to operate a computer, other than the basics (checking email, playing games, message boards, porn). I did have a “myspace” for awhile, which I still contend was more user-friendly and wasn’t geared so much to letting everyone in the world know exactly what you are doing at every minute of every goddam day. Much less the way that facebook is so clearly geared toward making every one of us some sort of target market (and if you geeks out there think that we’re not a target market, you’ve been in a coma for the past 10 years).
The main thing that pisses me off about facebook is that they TRICKED me into setting up a personal page in order to set up a page for this blog. One minute I’m filling out information about this site and the next minute it’s asking me my email address. When I put in my email address, it automatically added a bunch of friends and set up a personal page… without even asking! Facebook, I just thought you were the devil before… now I know.
I said all that just to say that I don’t know how long the facebook thing is going to last. I useta just hate facebook on principle alone; now I hate it because it is a treacherous sea witch.
I also have a tweeter, which is the dumbest shit ever. I’ve had it for about 2 days now, and I have yet to see an actual person on there twittering it up. I am quite convinced that tweeter is full of nothing but people trying to promote whatever it is they are selling. (Like me, except fitness is free. Comics and video games and dbd’s and JFZ memberships are not.) It’s like a Taco Bell commercial trying to communicate with a car dealership commercial: neither one is interested in what the other is selling, but by god they are gonna keep getting louder and talking more until the other one buys it, whether they want to or not. I useta think tweeter was full of actual people, typical self-absorbed teenage girls mostly, who just thought that whatever they were doing was just so damn great that the entire world needed to know that they just bought a new Michael Jackson hat at Justice (Justice is a store that I just became aware of Saturday night. It’s basically Wal-Mart for tweens, and if you just sit and ponder that thought for a minute you will get a shiver of fright at how horrible it must be to be in that place.). Now I realize that tweeter is nothing but a bunch of talking heads with no one there to listen. And porn spam.
Now. To get down to the business of losing weight…
I’ve already been to the JFZ today. I got up at about 5:10am and got ready and drove on over there. I am convinced that if I don’t get to the JFZ before noon, that I will not be allowed inside the doors. Afternoon workouts are for teenagers and the real athletes. Everytime I’ve ever tried to go in the JFZ after noon, there are tons of teenage dudes with little shiteater moustaches who look like they are probably on their school’s baseball team. Those guys and a bunch of leathernecks who just got offa work at the mill. And they all look at me like they wanna kick my ass. I have no doubt that the moustache guys probly would, since I have it established in my brain that all little sawed-off guys like that are constantly hopped up on the goofballs.
The leatherneck guys are just focusing on not having a stroke.
Slowly but surely, I am developing my COC. COC stands for “Cast of Characters”. You know you have them at your gym. That one guy that is there every time you go to the gym, who looks like there may be some rodent in his DNA somewhere. Or that woman who always comes in smelling like cat litter. You know what I’m talking about. I am sure that if I keep going at the same time every day, I will eventually start to recognize every person in there… and of course have my own nicknames and backstories for them all.
Today the Whirly Bird told me that I had a great workout. If the Whirly Bird says it, it must be true! I tortured that bastard for a solid 30 minutes. And I mean I got after it like a raccoon after an old shrimp shell! I had my workout playlist kicked up and it was throwing some good songs (I really need to edit out the ones that don’t get me going) and gave that sumbitch Whirly Bird hell.
But that is not all, friend! Then, I went downstairs (this particular JFZ is their deluxe model with two stories of fitness torture devices) and lifted weights on two of the three contraptions that I once called the “Trilogy of Terror”. The Trilogy of Terror are three machines that are lined up in a row so that you can hit em fastlike… bam bam bam. Like that.
The first is a push-up machine, which simulates a push-up motion. The second is a pull-down machine, which simulate pulling something heavy down out of the top shelf in your hall closet. And the third is a rowing machine, which simulates sexual tension. And rowing a boat.
I did the first two until I, literally, could not do them anymore. To Failure, as they say. Several guys gave me strange looks as I toiled over my 50-lb load, sweating through my Mickey Mouse tshirt. They were J-ing the T, for sure. No matter, I had bidness to attend to.
I did so much that I was dizzy afterward. Then I came home and took a shower and got Head & Shoulders in my eyeball, which felt like a drop of napalm. And yes, I combat dandruff on a daily basis, along with a lot of other minor maladies other than being a fatass.
See you tomorrow!
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