After the excruciating pain the “supposed” beginner level exercise gave me, I realised I needed something meant for total wimps. Thank fuck for the Wii! I wanted to keep this whole thing, object free; as in using no weights, not leaving the house, and pretty much doing what I normally do, only with more movement. The last thing I wanna do is head to the gym. That would suck for me. Also it’s far away and you gotta pay for that shit.
gt;So, my Sister has this work out game where a little personal trainer does exercises with you. I picked one with a fucking fantastic ass, so I would have even more incentive to use it, see her contort and wiggle it about. Good times. Is it weird that I get turned on by her disapproving looks when I screw up? Anywho, all the crap I gotta do is basically exercises that can be done sans-Wii, so it still sort of works out to plan. The thing is, though, I can only really do this crap when I’m alone in the house, which is most of the time. I didn’t take into account the house mates days off work. I decided last Thursday that, because I couldn’t have a hot date with the little trainer lady’s ass, it was the perfect opportunity to go for a run. I’m 100% a jeans and long-sleeve guy. I don’t even have any shoes other than boots. I went out, though, all pleased with myself, running about the field up the road from the house, thinking “Hot damn, I am awesome.” Then the dog decided to make an appearance. You want incentive? That’s some fucking incentive. This son of a bitch was fucking big, scary, loud and refused to stop. It was either keep running as fast as I could or be set upon by Cujo. So I ran, really hard. The bastard followed me all the way home. It was like something from a slasher movie, only much lower budget and less attractive teenagers. I’m pretty sure there weren’t any hot teenagers around, I was too busy trying to get the door open before I was body slammed and eaten.
Then we come to Saturday. I had a gig, so I lugged a whole bunch of my gear around in a bag and decided that was enough exercise and got the other people playing to give me piggy-back rides because fuck yeah piggy-back rides. It’s like a trade off, I’m convincing myself. I exercised the living shit out of myself and in return, others exercise by carrying me around. That’s how it works, right? Do not try to tempt me with your logic, I’m sticking with this. You know why? Because I out ran a Mother fucking dog, man.
