Working Out Means Shenanigans!!!

If there were a Workouts Anonymous, this would be my return trip where I walk in with my head hung down in shame and I tell you how I fell off the workout wagon and I skinned my knee and busted my lip on the way down...

And then you would all hug me and probably grope me inappropriately, because that's the only thing group hugs are good for. Stranger feel-ups. Don't judge me. You get to a certain level of 'dry spell' and you just think, meh. Whatever. I'm taking what I can get.

 

Okay, you probably SHOULD judge me for that. That's sexual harassment, brotha, and will get you 2 to 5 years. And that's funnier if you read it "harris-ment." You're welcome.

Anyway, back to the wagon. I reached up, pulled my fat ass back onto the wagon, and just ran until I wanted to puke. Because punishment for falling off the wagon is going to keep me on it, right? RIGHT? RIIIIIIGHT? Thank you. I'm also pretty sure my arms are going to fall off, in which case, this shit's gonna get weird because I am not going to be the freak typing with her toes, so I suppose since my boobs are just sitting there doing nothing all day, that's who's going to be earning their keep around here from now on. I hope everyone plans on keeping rooms really cold...

So, when I work out, I always put in my earbuds and turn the music up as high as it can go(yay for tinnitus in my future!) and just go to town. The way I see it, if I'm focused on the music, I don't realize I just ran two miles, and killed my abs, until after the damage is already done. But every time I do that, I have this elaborate daydream(what the fuck should I call it, a fantasy? It's not kinky, or weird, I just imagine it's happening!) that someone's sneaking up behind me and going to attack me on the machine... There's a curio cabinet all catty-corner(shut up with your giggling at my inner hick. You just shut the fuck up.) from me that I can see behind me, and my mind starts seeing shadows go across it. Or the fan will move a piece of paper and I will scream and then trip and fall... 

Not many of you will be surprised by the trip and fall. You can go to hell. 

So far, the most exciting ending has been me tossing the bad guy over the front of the machine because he made the (horrible) mistake of grossly underestimating the fat girl on the treadmill from behind, and I taught that motha' a lesson he won't forget. As you can see, I have big dreams that involve ninjas and martial arts moves that normal people can't do. I'm also pretty sure I chose a ninja as the bad guy because they're little, and easily thrown. 

Well, this is a workout in the mind of Deb, who having fallen off the workout wagon had definitely hitched a ride on the drunk wagon... I really like the drunk wagon. Also, I want you all to know- Pacquiao was fucking robbed. And yes, I did spell that without help. I amaze myself.