For my birthday this year, my daughter (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me.
Although I am still in great shape since being a high school cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Brad, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.
My daughter seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Brad waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!! Brad gave me a tour and showed me the machines.. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!
Brad was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around.
This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.
Brad made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Brad's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.
Brad was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Brad put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Brad told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.
Brad was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes.
Brad took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny bitch to find me.
Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank!
I hate that Brad more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little #@*. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.
Brad wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.
Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
Brad left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing him made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over.. I will also pray that next year my daughter (the little shit) will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds
Long ago, I saw something at the gun shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 10th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife. What I came across was a
100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized tazer.
The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety. Needless to say, this was way too cool. Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the thing and pushed the button. f0kall! I was so disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get a blue arc
of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. Awesome!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to my wife what that burn spot is on the face of her LG convection oven.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right? Yah. There I sat in my recliner, my cat looking on intently, the trusting little soul, while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really
needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Kitty for a fraction of a second, but thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat and, as most of you already know, hell hath no fury like a cat pi$$ed off. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and my Blue Bulls supporter jersey, with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second
burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries. All the while I'm looking at
this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in
circumference; pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA
batteries thinking to myself "no flippin' way!"
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.
I'm sitting there alone, the cat looking on with her head tilted to one side as if to say, "don't do it, you stupid man," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ole thingy couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY MOTHER OF @@@!!!!, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION, CRAP ON A STICK, F@&$ ME GEORGE!!!!! I'm pretty sure THE BLUE BULLS TEAM ran in through
the side door, picked me up, body slammed me on the carpet over and over and over again and then slammed the recliner over my head as a just for fun.
I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet smelling like [pee], both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and pins and needles in my legs. The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Do it again, do it again you stupid d00s!"
Please take this from the voice of experience - there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself!!!!. You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor! Three second burst would be considered conservative.
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had let), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent and forlorn reading glasses were hanging miserably on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they up get there? My
triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and judging by how my jaw hung listlessly, my bottom lip must have weighed 88 lbs. By the way, at this point my testicles, feeling like they withdrew into my body somewhere
around my ribcage, are still waiting for the all clear signal to emerge from the bomb shelter. Now I know how Tom Hanks' character felt when he had to go search for Private Ryan. I felt like I should offer a significant reward for their safe return. Even now, I experience shrinkage when I plug anything into the socket.
So if you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a tazer to test it, take my advice! Repeat after me...here, kitty kitty....
Joe wanted to buy a motorbike. He doesn't have much luck until, one day, he comes across a Harley with a 'for sale' sign on it.
The bike seems even better than a new one, although it is 10 years old. It is shiny and in absolute mint condition.
He immediately buys it, and asks the seller how he kept it in such great condition for 10 years.
"Well, it's quite simple, really," says the seller, "whenever the bike is outside and it's gonna rain, rub Vaseline on the chrome. It protects it from the rain."
And he hands Joe a jar of Vaseline.
That night, his girlfriend, Sandra, invites him over to meet her parents. Naturally, they take the bike there.
But just before they enter the house, Sandra stops him and says, "I have to tell you something about my family before we go in."
"When we eat dinner, we don't talk.. In fact, the first person who says anything during dinner has to do the dishes."
"No problem," he says. And in they go.
Joe is shocked. Right smack in the middle of the living room is a huge stack of dirty dishes.
In the kitchen is another huge stack of dishes. Piled up on the stairs, in the corridor, everywhere he looks, dirty dishes.
They sit down to dinner and, sure enough, no one says a word.
As dinner progresses, Joe decides to take advantage of the situation. So he leans over and kisses Sandra.
No one says a word.
So he reaches over and fondles her breasts.
Still, nobody says a word.
So he stands up, grabs her, rips her clothes off, throws her on the table, and screws her right there, in front of her parents.
His girlfriend is a little flustered, her dad is obviously livid, and her mom horrified when he sits back down, but no one says a word.
He looks at her mom. "She's got a great body," he thinks. So he grabs the mom, bends her over the dinner table, and has his way with her every
which way right there on the dinner table.
Now his girlfriend is furious and her dad is boiling, but still, total silence.
All of a sudden there is a loud clap of thunder, and it starts to rain. Joe remembers his bike, so he pulls the jar of Vaseline from his pocket.
Suddenly the father backs away from the table and shouts, "All right, that's enough, I'll do the fu*kin' dishes.
You sit behind the handlebars,
while the engine plays it's tune,
you ride by soul, more than touch,
as if guided by some acient rune.
You think, as we all have,
you look within as you ride,
without thinking about it,
without thought for pride,
for true bikers dont ride for glory,
or for the rewards of men,
but for the simple joy of riding,
That's not a what, it's a when.
Like the tale of man an machine,
growing together old,
Something not understood,
by those not of our fold.
Or the joy of building,
a new ride and friend,
that will be ridden,
until the end, of life or of the road,
for in this life we chose,
there is not a lot of difference,
between the two of those.
THE LOVE DRESS
A woman stopped by, unannounced, at her son's house.
She knocked on the door then immediately walked in. She was shocked to see her daughter-in-law lying on the couch, totally naked.
Soft music was playing, and the aroma of perfume filled the room.
'What are you doing?' she asked.
'I'm waiting for Justin to come home from work.' The daughter-in-law answered.
' But you're naked!' the mother-in-law exclaimed.
'This is my love dress,' the daughter-in-law explained.
'Love dress? But you're naked!'
'Justin loves me to wear this dress,' she explained.
'Every time he sees me in this dress, he instantly becomes romantic and ravages
me for hours.'
The mother-in-law left. When she got home she undressed, showered, put on her best perfume,
dimmed the lights, put on a romantic CD, and lay on the couch waiting for her husband to arrive.
Finally, her husband came home. He walked in and saw her lying there so provocatively.
' What are you doing?' he asked.
'This is my love dress,' she whispered, sensually.
'Needs ironing,' he said, 'What's for dinner?'