Monday, June 6, 2011

Sound of Sizzling

187.2 lbs. Oh, Jesus P. God! Why, God, why???? 

I worked out hard yesterday, resisted temptation, drank water and Boom! Spike. Mother fucking son of a bitch!

.4 lbs., lousy four tenths, two fifths, not even a mother fucking half of a pound and BLAMMO! All of sudden, my downward progress is using the 2011 Red Sox as a role model. “What? We’re on a win streak! Aaaargh!! Panic!” And then they’ll get embarrassed by Cleveland or the Sisters of the Blessed Shroud Junior Varsity softball team.

Too much joy over the jeans? Too much excitement over being so close to 40 down, it seemed like a done deal? Who the fuck knows?

Incredible Hulk, my ass! HE’S afraid of me when I’m angry. And that includes Lou Ferrigno, Eric Bana AND Ed Norton! And their little CGI alters as well. That goes double for Norton.

So how did I handle this setback? Obviously, not with Christian grace and equanimity. Put it to you this way: by 5:30 AM, my ass was on the lower back press moving 250 lbs. In fact, I moved up in weight on all of the machines.

It’s a good thing that it was too early for Douchebag Nation.

But wait, there’s more.

Torquemada wants me to drip sweat, cardio blast and hit an hour of cardio, she got it. Well, one out of three is .333, which is a very nice batting average. (Please note, four strikeouts by one batter in a baseball game is known as a Golden Sombrero).

I hit the Rotating Staircase of Death for 45 minutes.  And that included time spent listening to Sarah Palin try to spin her ignorance of American History (I’m thinking she was only half paying attention on the Old North Church tour), listening to a financial reporter (alleged expert) discuss foreclosures, underwater mortgages and totally blow the term “Deed In Lieu” (He called it “Deed in Lease.” Idiot, but since Sarah Palin opened for him, the moronic tendencies were less heinous).  So, we’re talking physical and mental stress. Didn’t do much to lessen the anger, but by God, it kept me pushing.

Nixon didn’t sweat this much debating Kennedy.

1404 calorie burn. Suck on it, 187.2.

We’ll see what happens tomorrow (sound of fist being pounded into palm of hand).

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