Funny #6

I was starting to get all panicky, as April 1 is quickly approaching and I haven't filed my taxes yet. I had this idea that April 1 was the deadline, not the 15th. I love the feeling of deadline stress being lifted off my heart and lungs. Not that the government REALLY NEEDS me to file...it's not like I earned that much anyway or I'll get some huge return. Besides, a good deal of it will go to lazy chumps who don't like to work, worthless green energy programs, the salaries of power hungry politicians, and one day, birth control for those poor chicks at Georgetown.

...did I say that out loud?

At least some of it's good for something. I hope.

Funny #5

So this may not be as much of a funny as it is a "Aww". I found out today that you can't actually "sweat out a cold". I've been sick for a couple of days, so I was/am trying to take it easy on my running and stuff. Since I've been feeling better, I decided to go ahead and work out and later run a sorry two miles with the hopes of being able to "sweat it out" and get better faster. Turns out, "sweating out" is just another old wives tale, as per this fitness guru I know. Oh well. It felt good to run, so I guess I'm really on the mend. Yay!

Funny #4

Power lifters at the gym scare me. Somethin' ain't right about a guy with over-sized thighs and trunk who's exerting immeasurable effort trying to lift all the weight plates in the gym from the ground to the tops of his quads, all the while his veins are popping, his back is cracking, and his mouth guard is wearing thin in his clenched jaw. I don't get it. I really don't.

Eh. Men.

Funny #3

So I just. Had. To. Share.

I've been trying a new thing, getting up at 0530 to hit the gym, ensuring that I actually squeeze gym time for the day. It's been going great so far.

I've been working out (albeit inconsistently/consistently, if you will) for a year and some change now, and have come across quite the range of gym goer personalities. I've seen the bodybuilder with arms as big as my thighs, the guy(s) I know I could never have but still dream about anyway, the chick who works her mouth more than her body, the bro who's just all that, the military buffs (and buffette), the flaming homosexual, the girl that's prettier, faster, AND stronger than I am, the old motivated geezers (way to go granny!), the weight trying-to-losers, and the average joes. But never before have I seen what I saw this morning.

A personal trainer on the bench, with 70lbs in each hand. As he proceeded to bench, the most dramatic, odd, toe-curling grunts I have ever heard spluttered from within and out his mouth. I wish I could have recorded a video. "OOooohh....AHhhhhh....yea-uuuhhh baybeeehhh...." For a moment, I didn't know if I was in a gym or if I had walked in on lovers. It messed up my own routine.

You really had to be there, but I'm glad you weren't. I suppose stranger things have happened. In other news, the Commanding Officer of Marine recruiting here in Jacksonville can shrug, in each hand, as much as I weigh. That's Semper Fit for ya!

Funny #2

I am not a runner in the sense that I like running. I love what running does to my body and mind, but it is a conscious choice to drag my lazy butt outside and run. So today, I decided to bring along the generic mp3 player to mask the discomfort. And guess which song comes on first? The background song to the battle scene in The Chronicles of Narnia, aka, Concentrated Epicness. The song rushes me out of the driveway and onto the street. I feel good--really good. Until about a minute later. I hadn't noticed that I had started at full speed and had forgotten to breathe normally. A stitch started to grow, and by the final measure, I was limping back to the house sucking wind and nursing my side. I'll try again tomorrow, after the SAT. -_-

Funny #1

It's very well near pitch black in the first floor of the Lindsay Building. I'm there for drama rehearsal, and am early. After inspecting the floor, I start to head back to the lobby to reset and draw up a plan. On the way, I hear footsteps. My instincts go a little too high up the threat matrix, and I assume this unseen body is following me to do who knows what. Naturally, I try to escape. I think I'll just dart into this room over here...yeah...that's what I'll do. I turn sharp----BAM!


Stars.


The "dark room" was a closed door. My forehead is now bruised.


You can laugh if you want.