Tag Archives: workout

Heat Wave

It was twelve degrees when I walked outside this morning.


I shrieked like an adolescent girl at a Hansen concert and ran back inside to cower in the warmth for just a bit longer before forging ahead into the dark and frozen winter wasteland that is Kansas City.


(at twelve degrees)

Trying to whistle a happy tune but only making a horrifying blowing noise with steam flowing out of my mouth like a ketchup packet filled with stale air and mucus being slowly driven over, I made my way to the truck.


Have I mentioned that it was twelve degrees?

Even the truck protested at being awakened in the frigid morning. If an inanimate object can fake emphysema, my truck has it. Having been a daily chain smoker for 11 years now, it wheezes in the morning while coughing like a career coal miner with three pack a day unfiltered Lucky Strike habit.


I have to admit that while feeling completely asinine for donning a swimsuit in order to immerse myself in water this morning, it was really nice getting in the pool. Pausing between laps to discuss our respective Christmases, the Aqua-Ettes and I were feeling pretty good doing our laps and listening to the oldies station (although I do find it disconcerting that the oldies are now ye olde Duran Duran and the timeless classics by Depeche Mode).


Having let the shower warm up for approximately 40 minutes I hopped in, climbed the ice waterfall that had formed at the shower head and scrubbed myself in record time.

Looking down at the pride and joy I realized that the goods were missing.
I was as smooth as a JC Penny’s mannequin (one less thing to do my thinking for me…)


Disregarding my lack of manhood (who needs it) I ventured back to the parking lot and drove my wheezing and smoking coal miner back to the house.

Ps. Eleven degrees by then. Mother Nature can suck it.


The Hottie

I met a new girl at the gym last week.

She was beautiful.

I don’t mean just good looking but really beautiful like an airbrushed Health & Fitness magazine cover model.


I noticed that she’d gotten into the pool when I resurfaced after a particularly grueling set of laps.

I had ingested a mere 1.5 gallons of chlorine tainted pool water while thrashing back and forth like a first timer in the ocean during a shark attack so what I’m trying to say is, I looked pretty good myself.


As she finished her lap she stopped for a minute and I though maybe I might lay a smooth line on her.

Maybe something classy like “Do you come here often sugar britches?”


What actually came out of my face was “Good morning!”

A big smile broke out on her face and he said “Hi!” (Perfect teeth, of course)

Me: “I haven’t seen you here before.”

Supermodel: “This my first time but I like it so far.  Everyone’s been really friendly and it’s close to my house.” (Sweet!)

Me: “Oh, did you just move into the neighborhood?”

Supermodel: “Mmm hmmm.  I’ve been traveling between Paris and Milan between jobs (supermodeling, of course) and I decided to come home to Kansas City.  It’s kind of a lonely life and I want some new friends.” (OMG, I’m feeling faint.)

Supermodel: “I found a great house about three blocks from… wait… “
As she said that last word “wait” her hand rose out of the water and her delicate finger was pointing up and down from my chin to about mid chest.
I looked quickly down to see what she was pointing at and the thin line of snot that had apparently been flowing out of my right nostril had decided to slowly escape the confines of my face and rappel toward the earth at a snails pace (and also viscosity).  It was hanging about eight inches off of the bottom of my chin.
It was also sickly multicolored and as I frantically tried to hide the evidence I sneezed , blowing the biggest snot bubble I’d ever seen.  This includes the multitude of YouTube videos I’ve seen late at night (laughing maniacally). 
It looked like I was trying to envelop my head with a green, yellow (& a little red) translucent and lumpy balloon.
The supermodel had a look of pure horror on her face and I could see her gag reflex working furiously as she did her best to keep her (dainty, I’m sure) breakfast from making an appearance.
I ran as fast as I could toward the ladder (which is kind of funny because running in chest deep water is incredibly slow) and exited to pool, leaving my towel, goggles and dignity behind.
I haven’t seen her since.

Exorcise & Die-eting

I’m dying inside.

Just a little bit each day.

After several months of dedicated self emasculation and exercise I decided to make my way over to the absolute liar sitting benignly on my bathroom floor just to see if I’ve made any progress.


I stuck my toe out towards the scale & I actually heard it growl at me.  It had a menacing look but I was dedicated to my task and I stepped aboard.


I was delightedly surprised to see that in the last 6 months of swimming, running, weightlifting and projectile crying I had lost absolutely zero pounds.

Not.  One.  Ounce.

My eyes welled up and threatened to spill over.

My first thought was “What the *&%# have I been doing this for?!?!”

My second thought was “Maybe I should lay off that third funnel cake and the half pound of bacon in the morning…”


So, rationale took over and I’ve begun to diet as well as exercise.

The first few days didn’t go so well.

On day 1, after a breakfast consisting of 6 wood chips and a bowl of grout, I began my run.  About 15 minutes in I heard a low rumble deep in my belly and was racked with spasms I can only equate to childbirth.  I ran the rest of the way home on my tiptoes with my knees clenched together and hunched over looking like a damned fool but not caring in the least. 


I barely made it.

My blushing bride thought I was killing something in the downstairs bathroom but it was only my squeals of unbridled terror about what was happening in that very confined space.

Day 2 was slightly better with the morning meal made out of a miniature hay bale and flavored with beaver anal glands. At least the algae beverage was…well…never mind what it was.  Rest assured that the result was clearly (rather murky actually) the same as the day before.


I began to realize that apparently the correct diet was one that not only made you regular, but one that made you unstoppable.

I’m now happily munching away on a box of sawdust bars and not straying too far from my porcelain throne which, subsequently, is now decked out thanks to “Pimp My Throne” from the fine folks at Home Depot.

It’s got gold accents and the handle spins after it’s done flushing.




As I’ve begun to exercise out of the pool as well as in (and I have the relative anonymity of the faceless Internet) I’ve notice a bit of chafing in all the wrong places.


Once I made my mind up to take action I had to stop and consider my alternatives.

One does not just simply attack their “area” with a pair of scissors and some electrically charged shears if one would prefer “action” ever, ever again.

I’m sure that with some shears I could effectively yet accidentally neuter myself but missing the berries from the twigs & berries combo is definitely not what I’m shooting for.


So, with trepidation in my heart, I delicately proceeded to trim the nethers in order to avoid the man scourge known as Monkey Butt and the occasional Crotch Rot (seriously, the next time you see a man waddling around like he’s wearing a cactus between his person and his undies you’ll understand what I’m talking about.)


Having visions of my bits looking like they should belong in an Obsession for Men ad I happily trimmed away.


I’m fairly sure that if my significant other walked in at the time it would have seemed slightly awkward with me hunched over my goods, paying waaaaaaay too much attention to the cash & prizes.


When I finished, I took a look on the mirror expecting to see something like a 1920’s finger wave hairdo in my midsection but what I saw was something vastly different.

I looked like I had given myself instant mange.


Bits of me were completely bare while others looked like they’d been in a bar fight.

So now I’ve had to take it all away and  I’m bare as a newborn.

Things are a bit itchy.

If you see me on the street furiously scratching my junk, please, please…

Look away.


Sweet, Sweet Shame

I went running again this morning.

It probably looked more like shambling but I couldn’t find it in me to care.


I think I made it about a block before snot began spraying out of my nose with each explosive exhale.  Run one block, walk one block, run one block, walk one block. 

That’s what I was supposed to do.

What actually happened was that I started off from the house with joy in my heart and a spring in my step while whistling a merry tune.


Later, when I came to, I was in a strange neighborhood with a skinned knee, a bloody nose and missing a shoe.  A large chunk of my right buttock had bite marks.

People bite marks.  

Like some evil grin had attached itself to my hiney and wouldn’t let go.


My only recollection was of a large and overly amorous hermit looking lady running out of her shrub covered shack shouting “Wait up Love Muffin!”


Now, I thought I was fast, but this mountain of heaving aggression had gained on me like a lightning strike with sheer determination on her face.

I don’t remember much after that but I’ve been left with a strange sense of humiliation and I can’t seem to stop blushing.

I may just run that way again tomorrow…






It’s raining.

I tried rationalizing the fact that it was raining with maybe NOT going to the pool since I would already be wet but no…


I went.

With a heavy heart and a shuffle in my step.

As I arrived at there my heart leaped with the joy of a seven year old child winning the biggest fifty cent stuffed animal out of the bilking crane machine at the mall.

It was completely devoid of another human being.


I smiled (looking psychotically deranged  I’m certain) and took the first icy plunge.

After a few deliciously solitary laps I noticed one lone woman walk out of the locker room. She was wearing a black & white swim suit and when she turned around I was treated to the sight of a killer whale dorsal fun strapped to her back.

I sh*t you not.


The weirdest/funniest part about it was that the fin was curved just like Shamu at Sea World.

Shamette (as she will be known forevermore) looked vaguely familiar and I realized that the last time I’d seen her she was chewing on the lane rope so I knew that at least a few of the synapses weren’t firing in that blowhole adorned noggin.

She looked at me with what I could only assume was hunger and slipped into the opposite end of the next lane.

Never taking her eyes off of me as we passed, I swear I heard whale noises as I glimpsed her bared teeth.


I could also see her drooling which is incredible when you realize that I was seeing it happen underwater so it was prolific.

Sensing her changing direction and heading into my lane I hastily finish my lap & leaped out of the water like a penguin pursued by a leopard seal.

A leopard seal chases a Gentoo penguin out of the freezing waters

Shamette beached herself directly behind me and without using her hands, wiggled her way back into the pool with a look of regret.

I know that the squeaks & whistles coming out of her mouth meant “next time…”

I’m calling the Japanese. I’m sure one of their whaling ships has to be available and I need help.

Weight Loss Cigars

They say that cigars can stunt your growth.

Well, after many years of unimpeded growth I thought “Why not give them a try?”



I hadn’t realized that they were so expensive but I figured that if they were such a handy weight loss tool I’d go ahead and make the investment.



I had about eleven of them down before someone told me that I wasn’t supposed to eat them.



No wonder.  

They tasted horrible but my best guess was the old adage “If it’s good for you, it probably tastes bad”.


I smoked a couple of them after that and I must admit, I felt a little queasy.

I apparently had a green pallor that one of the Aqua-Ettes commented on.

Me: “Good morning :)”

Samantha: “You look like sh*t.”

Me: “Gee, thanks…it’s the new diet.”


As I swam along, my inner self realized that I’s made a huge mistake and that I’d be paying for it in short order.



For Lindsay…

There was a glamour boy reunion in the pool today.

I could smell it when I opened the door to the locker room.


As I entered the pool room I was assaulted and intrigued at the same time.

Not only were the Glamour Boys having their cheap cologne scented (I think todays scent was Horkamata’s Revenge) Oprah Winfrey show in lane four but there was a newbie in lane two.

She was young, beautiful and completely out of place.


Since the Aqua-ettes were all huddled at the far end of the pool in the other lanes discussing the newbie I asked if I could share her lane.

She gave the prettiest smile and said “Come on in, the water’s fine!”

As I introduced myself she told me her name was Lindsay N. Hunter and she was joining us because her regular gym was closed for some reason or another.

Now, I’m a married spud and the Aqua-ettes know this but I could see the poisoned darts of jealousy shooting at Lindsay from the other end of the pool and the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.


Apparently, there had been a little circle peed around me and I was claimed territory.

My special friend had her teeth halfway out of her mouth and was literally growling.

I approached slowly, smiled and batted my eyes at her, told her that her shower cap looked particularly good today and the the teeth made their way tentatively back into her mouth.

As she looked over my shoulder at Lindsay though, her lip twitched and little growl escaped.

I got some spit on me.

The most intriguing thing though was the glint of real malice in her eyes so I think I’ll keep myself between Lindsay & the Ladies.


This morning might just turn out pretty interesting…

Lights Out

The pool was dark this morning. 

Like cheesy 80’s horror movie dark only this time the serial killer is a sweet old lady on a motorized cart. 

When I drove up and saw that the lights were off I thought “CLAUDE HAVE MERCY, ITS CLOSED! YAAAAAYYYYY!!!!!”(Thankyouthankyouthankyou)

Upon closer inspection it wasn’t closed, the lights just weren’t working and the room had a shadowy cast. 


Deflated and with a heavy heart I knuckle dragged into the locker room and put on my suit for my next near drowning. 

As each lap slowly passed I was waiting to encounter a pair of overall covered legs and work boots standing waist deep in the water with an idling chainsaw hovering over the surface. 


Strangely disappointed that I didn’t get to witness a demented water psycho, I listened to the chatter of the Aqua-ettes and smiled to myself. 

Maybe I was the psycho… 

Nah, just an over active imagination.

Ripped Jeans

After a couple of months in the pool/gym my *ss is slowly getting smaller. 

According to my pants, this is untrue. 

Over the last week I’ve found three pairs of pants and one pair of shorts that have a rip in the back that I never noticed before.

The new unwanted vents are all in the same place. 


Questions that arise are:
1. Are my newly rippled glutes just too much for the delicate fabric that has clothed man for at least a century and a half and said fabric withers at the mere thought of trying to cover up such amazing sculpture?
2. Is my *ss is still just enormous and even tough denim can’t hold on tight enough and has to release the pressure through a new exit rendered out if desperation?

As I write this, I’m contemplating if my decisions are right, if the swimming is going to eventually pay off (I think it will) or if I should just give in and eat the donuts (hmmmm, it DOES sound interesting).

I think I’ll put the blinders on and try to believe that although my pants are giving up the ghost, it’s due to the fact that I haven’t bought any new ones for a while & they’re just threadbare. 

I’m headed out for some new ones today. 

Maybe a donut along the way though…