Last Friday I promised to titillate you with a new post every week. Yeah, about that. I’ve been slaving away, educating children not of my own making and I, well, kinda, sorta, didn’t write a new post. So in the interest of compromise, I give you…wait for it…wait for it…something old.
You’re welcome. I’m growing genius kids at the school these days, so you git what you git, and you don’t throw a fit. Translation? You been screwed.
Exercise. Possibly the most vile word in the English language. Don’t look at me like that. This is some dangerous shit.
Working out, clear to it’s sweaty core, is evil. Unfortunately, a necessary evil as my inner thighs are sneaking off to meet behind my back. In front of my back? Under my back.
They’ve such a chafing, combustible relationship, I fear they’ll start a bush fire…. Ahem.
Kipling said it best–East is East. West is West. Never the two bitches shall meet. Poetic, really.
Anyway, enjoy my past ride (cue scene fade)…
Yesterday, I ran while my son rode his bike next to me. It felt…good. I liked it. My muscles heated and tingled, and I wasn’t even winded. I am super beyond all measure! I decided to keep up this new trend of physical fitness.
After dropping off Les Malcontents at school this morning, I mounted my bike like a pole dancer extraordinaire and shoved off on my great adventure.
Mile 1– This is fantastic. The weather is fantastic. I am fantastic! My thighs warmed all nice-like as I pedaled with little effort. I just knew those bitches were shrinking with every turn! Aside from the pounding my ass was taking from the unyielding seat, I felt A-fetching-mazing.
Mile 2– Who the hell turned the sun on so bright? Dumb bastard, didn’t he realize someone may want to go outside? It shouldn’t be this effing hot so early in the morning. Stupid sun. I swiped at the salt dripping into my eyes, wondering when I’d biked into an Indian sweat lodge and would the Emergency Room be next because I needed to grab a damn oxygen tank. Also, I think the seat cushion made a pass at me.
Mile 3– How the shit can the road be uphill both ways? This is deliverance on wheels. I’m engaged to the seat. An overzealous, sadistic pothole forced me to propose when it crammed half the bike so far up my rectum, I feared being charged with sexual advances on an inanimate object. Watch your mailbox–wedding invite soon to follow.
Mile 4– Mayday! Mayday! Call 911! Get the f&$#ing paramedics right f%&$ing now! My ass is smoking! Airways have collapsed! Sweat has done poached my eyes! Or maybe oxygen deprivation has burst my retinas. Either way, I can’t see shit! I hate this game! I want off this bus! STUPID ASSHOLE SEAT!
This happens to women the world over, every day. We must put a stop to this cruel, inhumane abuse. Join me in the fight against exercise. Together, we can make a difference.