Don't Read This

Rambling...that's my middle name. I would change it, but I don't like change...unless it's jingley change. That I like. That and donuts. But not the "fat-free" kind. Those are yucky. What was I saying?

4/29/07 4:15 PM

I'm A Body Builder!

Well, not yet, but I did join the local gym, so I'm well on my way. Actually, I'm really good friends with Arnold Schwartzennegar, so you can see the kind of body-building company I keep. I give him tips on working out all the time. In fact, if it weren't for me, he wouldn't be where he is today. Not really, but I did vote for him, so that's kind of the same thing, right?

Okay, I don't know Arnold, but I can do a really good impression. You should hear me say, "It's not a tooh-mah!". I sound just like him. Everyone thinks so. Okay, only one person thinks so, but she works for the information directory, so her opinion is very reliable. I could tell by the way she said, "Do you want me to give you a phone number or what, asshole?" that she was very impressed.

I'm already in pretty darn good shape as it is, so I doubt my journey to becoming a body-building champion will be a long one. I mean, if you saw me, you'd see how my muslcles already are just so defined and just bulge out everywhere. Sometimes I'll just flex my muscles in this big body-building pose and just let out a big roar. That really gets me in the mood to work out. You're not supposed to do that at the library, apparently, but how was I supposed do know? But, anyway, I am so built! Sometimes kids get scared when they see me approach.

To be fair, I should mention that I walk down the street in red speedos and a sombrero, but I do live in San Diego, so you can see why that's not all that strange.

The gym where I go is really great, I have to say. The lady who signed me up said I should start with lighter dumbbells, so I don't over do it and get all sore or injure myself. I didn't see a lot of small dumbbells at the gym. There was this one guy who looked kinda stupid, but he wouldn't let me lift him, so I just decided to start working on my specs...or flabs..or something. I don't know the terminology. I asked a lady to point me to the machine that will make my neck bigger than my head, but she just said to go to hell, so I left her alone.

After a few minutes, I decided it might be best to start on the treadmill. That's a great workout, let me tell you. They said the key is to start slow and work your way up. They don't fool me, though. They just say that so you'll stay longer and pay more money. The girl said I was an idiot and said that my membership fee was the same no matter how long I stayed, but I've read the fine print.

The key to the treadmill is that it gets your heart rate going really fast. That's important. I found out the best way to get your heart rate up really fast is to just sit on the treadmill and then hit the start button at the fastest speed possible. When you go shooting off the end into the wall, your heart rate is just flying, let me tell you! They wouldn't let me do that anymore, so then I just started running on it like all the other boring people who don't know how to have fun. I didn't start off slow, though. Instead, I turned it all the way up and sprinted like crazy, screaming, "RUN, RUN, AS FAST AS YOU CAN! YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, I'M THE GINGERBREAD MAN!!!"

After awhile, I was tired, hot and sweaty, so I decided to take a shower. I asked this big guy to "spot me", but he just called security, so now I have to find another gym. I'm thinking of joining a pilates group. I've always wanted to fly planes. My uncle is a pilat and takes me up in his cessna all the time.


Comments (3)

  • 2/17/08 - j charltonI really hate trying to open cd's --- you ruin your fingernails, your patience, the packaging (?)...  Show Full Comment
  • 4/29/07 - Sign543Haha, has been a while. :)
  • 4/29/07 - No Really, It's Ranger (fr4)'ve been missed. Stand still.
About the Author
Contact me:

I was born in Rangoon and was raised by a one-legged goat-herder who suffered from halitosis, crunchy hair, and a cough due to cold. One day while I was out helping my goat-herding legal guardian collect a couple of stray goats who were bleating and eating our neighbor's poppies (they weren't really poppies...they were carrots, but he tried to fool us so we wouldn't eat his "upside down flowers"), I happened upon a book written by Mark Tween (yes, I know it sounds the same as that other guy, but trust wasn't him) and instantly fell in love with book binding. It was beautiful.

Later when I was in high school (okay, prison, but they did teach us things), I decided I wanted to become an amateur milk I went to finishing school (where I learned to finish the folk tales I used to spin but never finish when I was a kid and an old plate of beets I refused to eat when I was eight because they reminded me of my Aunt Edna's blood boils)...and the rest, as they say, is history. Well, not the kind you'd read in a book...unless you happen to be writing a book about me, which would be pretty unlikely...unless you're my mother and someone raised you from the dead. She's not actually dead, but that's what she always screams at my brother. "You make me so mad, I wish I was DEAD!"

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