Where The Boys Are

I took the day off work today so I wouldn't have to deal with issues that really seem rather ridiculous in the light of my personal life.

Today needs to be a day of distraction until I leave for the courthouse. I'm leaving for Empty Bowl in less than an hour.

Side note: Am I allowed to sing "Going to the courthouse and I'm geeeeting un-maaaried" as I do a Broadway high kick up the courthouse steps?

Anyway, I went to the YMCA this morning and instead of doing half of my workout by running on the track, I followed all the jar heads and no-necks around on the weightlifting machines. Since we are in mid-blizzard, the exercise center was quiet, except for the hardcore ass kickers and instead of feeling like a turd in a punch bowl, I actually found my new workout com padres quite humorous.

They will never set the weights to zero. They are in a quiet competition with the next person coming along and want everyone to see that they were just at 300 pounds. I silently followed them around, adjusting their settings by a couple hundred pounds and then resetting them back to 300 when I was done. (Yeah beyotches! I totally kick ass in MY WORLD).

The no-necks also try very hard not to be impatient with string bean nerds like me but they tend to congregate like a herd of gnus, eyeing the lion suspiciously. They know that something is amiss. They know that SOMEONE IS PLAYING WITH THEIR TOYS!
They are obviously unimpressed with my bulging biceps that look like I've been bench pressing Kleenex boxes for years. They really just want me to go away.

Which only makes me stay longer.

Which only makes me lift heavier weights.

Which only makes me up my reps.

Now, as I sit at home, post shower, I sincerely think I need my head examined. This keyboard tray is really, really heavy. Scratch my nose? If I only could!

But I suppose if I can't drag my hands out of my pockets, I won't have the ability to put them around anyone's neck.

Once more, society is saved from my wrath. Or at least one member of society.