this is great...

[blackdirt beagles]

WEEK AT THE GYM: ONE MAN'S STORY

This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a
regular workout routine.

Dear Diary,


For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week
of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am
still in great shape since playing football 20 yrs ago, I decided it
would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. Called the club and
made my reservation with a personal trainer named Vanessa, who
identified herself as a 24 yr old aerobics instructor and Model for
athletic clothing and swimwear. My wife seemed pleased with my
enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to
chart my progress.


MONDAY: Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but it was
well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Vanessa waiting
for me. She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing
eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!! Vanessa gave me a tour and
showed me the machines. She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the
treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed
it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed
watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class
after my workout today. Very inspiring, Vanessa was encouraging as I did
my sit-ups, 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 I finally made it out of the
door. Vanessa 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. Vanessa's 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 lying on 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 or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club
parking lot. Vanessa was impatient with me, insisting that my screams
bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early
in the morning and when she scolds, she has this nasally whine that is
VERY annoying. My chest hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Vanessa
put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine
to stimulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Vanessa told me
it wo! uld help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other crap
too.


THURSDAY: Vanessa 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.
Vanessa took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I
ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as
punishment, put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.


FRIDAY: I hate that bitch Vanessa more than any human being has ever
hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny,
anemic, little cheerleader. If there were a part of my body I could move
without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Vanessa wanted me to
work on my triceps I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents
in the floor, don't hand me the F*C**NG 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 softer,
like the drama coach or the choir director?


SATURDAY: Vanessa left a message on my answering machine in her grating,
shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing, her
made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, 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 and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next
year, my wife (the bitch), will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like
a root canal or a vasectomy.