The Gym
rondetto
Published
03/10/2009
A MAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM…
If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to work into a regular workout routine.
Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, my wife (the little sweetheart) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in pretty good shape since I played football in high school over 45 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
I called the club and set a time for my prepaid session with a personal trainer named Chris who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and part-time model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! She even encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Chris waiting for me. She is sure a good looking babe with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling smile.
Chris gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she worked out on a mat and conducted an aerobics class after my first workout today. Very inspiring!
Chris was encouraging as I did my sit-ups etc., although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!
TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but finally made it out the door. At the gym Chris made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Her rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer too much or stop too quic. I parked on top of a little bank in the club parking lot.
Chris was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice
is a little bit too perky for that early in the morning. And when she scolds, she gets this nasal whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Chris put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Chris told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other stupid stuff too.
THURSDAY:
The Hitler aerobics queen was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes. She took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. The skinny bitch came right in there looking for me. Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine -- which sank in less than two minutes.
FRIDAY:
I hate that bitch Chris more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, bleeping little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. She wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any bleeping triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me those damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone a lot softer like a plump pastry chef or fat ass choir director.
SATURDAY:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up at the spa today. Just hearing that voice made me want to smash the machine with the phone, but I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
SUNDAY:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go in there and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my wife (the little bitch) will choose a gift for me that is more fun -- like a root canal or a double vasectomy ..
Two ushers had to help me off my knees after the service and escort me out to the bus. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over so much he would have made my body closer to that position.
_________________
If you read this without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to work into a regular workout routine.
Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, my wife (the little sweetheart) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in pretty good shape since I played football in high school over 45 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.
I called the club and set a time for my prepaid session with a personal trainer named Chris who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and part-time model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! She even encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Chris waiting for me. She is sure a good looking babe with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling smile.
Chris gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she worked out on a mat and conducted an aerobics class after my first workout today. Very inspiring!
Chris was encouraging as I did my sit-ups etc., although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!
TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but finally made it out the door. At the gym Chris made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Her rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer too much or stop too quic. I parked on top of a little bank in the club parking lot.
Chris was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice
is a little bit too perky for that early in the morning. And when she scolds, she gets this nasal whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Chris put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Chris told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other stupid stuff too.
THURSDAY:
The Hitler aerobics queen was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes. She took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. The skinny bitch came right in there looking for me. Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine -- which sank in less than two minutes.
FRIDAY:
I hate that bitch Chris more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, bleeping little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. She wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any bleeping triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me those damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone a lot softer like a plump pastry chef or fat ass choir director.
SATURDAY:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up at the spa today. Just hearing that voice made me want to smash the machine with the phone, but I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
SUNDAY:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go in there and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my wife (the little bitch) will choose a gift for me that is more fun -- like a root canal or a double vasectomy ..
Two ushers had to help me off my knees after the service and escort me out to the bus. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over so much he would have made my body closer to that position.
_________________
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