August 23, 2012

Petty? Me? Noooo

I've been doing this boot camp for 13 weeks now (I'm on my third session of 6 weeks) and I really like it, I'm seeing muscle where chub used to be, and I feel strong. I can even do push ups the real way now, without my knees on the ground! I do burpees and squats like a mad woman and I feel more energetic, and inspired and stronger after each workout. I try to focus on form and not be competitive when I don't need to be, just going at my own pace and making the most of it for me. But Tuesday WAS a competition.

We were running suicide relays. Each suicide was a different exercise, the second being the side shuffle. I was paired up against this girl in a purple tank top. I was sick with a cold and not at 100% but I showed up because I'm awesome. So I start shuffling to the first cone, we're neck and neck, I'm focusing on my form and giving it all I've got, snot running down my throat, it was pretty rough. I'm coughing but I keep going.

Side shuffle, side shuffle, We get to the second cone and she's about three shuffles ahead. I'm a competitive person, but I'm also an honest person and this purple shirted shuffle shirker was front shuffling! Hardly even attempting to look like she was doing it right. Our fearless leader, Brittany, calls her out on it yet she refuses to change. We know that this is a competition with something on the line, and I see that I'm losing my leg (of the relay, not the one below my butt), but she's cheating. I keep focusing on my form and fairness, and she keeps front shuffling like a little bitch.

By the end of Tuesday's session, three different relay sets, she has blatantly spit in the face of boot camp itself and that front shuffling little skank cost my team and I a total of 15 burpees.

I guess the plus side is that I'll look way better than her cheating butt in a bathing suit by the end and isn't that what really matters?

Balls

August 6, 2012

A Note on Temperature


It’s six o’clock on a Friday night. A ridiculously attractive female sits at gate E9 in the Philadelphia International Airport Terminal waiting for her Southwest flight. She could already be home, but being the kind and giving person she is, she gave up her seat on that flight for someone whom she can only assume had multiple disabilities, was a veteran, elderly, and pregnant. But she doesn’t care;, she’s just that good of a person. (The voucher worth more than a free flight on future Southwest travel never entered her mind). She is richer than when she arrived at the airport, full of wine and fajitas, and happy as a clam and yet she scowls and crosses her frigid blue arms over her ample bosom.

Why? Because it’s so GD cold in this freaking airport!!!

Businesses across the land, heed my advice: Just because it’s 90 outside, doesn’t mean we want it to be 15 inside. That blast of cold air feels good for about 2 seconds and then we cool off, and then we freeze, and then our nipples cut the glass of the airplane windows, the plane loses all function, and we all die! Do you want that on your conscience? DO YOU?! I can assure you that air that is even 10 degrees colder will feel good when we walk into your building. It’s summer and most of us aren’t equipped with warmer clothes to throw on above our skimpy shorts that accentuate our increasingly chiseled legs (thank you, boot camp!). Turn it down a notch. I feel like I’m in Antarctica, sitting in a bath of icy hot in a wind tunnel, while eating a snow cone. Enough!  

On the plus side, I was feeling pretty flushed after that TSA molestation, so maybe you had my best interest at heart. So thanks, or something.

Balls

A Haiku about my experience:

Sitting in the cold
Nipples turning hard; cut glass
Care to warm them up?