Thanks Uncle Beatrice

I went to the gym last night. I put on my shoes, threw on one of Ben's old Tee's, I rounded the corner out of the girls locker room, and happily strolled over towards the lesbian elliptical. However my happiness quickly turned into an angry punch in my gut when I realized that the lesbian elliptical was already being occupied by, you guessed it, the lesbian. She wasn't there when I walked in 3 minutes earlier. I swear she wasn't. But yet, there she was, armpit sweat the size of dinner plates, her frizzy 80's hair bouncing, gliding on this thing a good 30 miles an hour as if it was actually going to take her somewhere if she did it fast enough...where did she come from? So many questions. It wouldn't have made me that mad if her apparent lesbian lover "Big Pat" (or whatever interesting feminine name you would like to insert there) wasn't on the other one too.

I seriously stood there for a second, pretending to fiddle with my ipod, but I was secretly hating them. Just watching them for a few seconds while they yammered on like two truckers on a CB radio. I hate those lesbians. I wanted so badly to walk up and ask one of them if they were ever going to give anyone else a shot on there one of these days, but I thought better of it and went on the swinging elliptical instead.

Simpsons was on, so I plugged my headphones into the machine and pushed through the burn for a solid 23 minutes. I would glance over periodically at the lesbian duo, gleefully gliding on my beloved machines and just send them hate waves. Unfortunately, I do not think that they can receive hate waves, and much to my dismay, I cannot send them either.

Oh well.

Despite the ambiguously gay duo always raining on my parade, I was proud as I stepped off the machine I loathe. I felt that the swinging elliptical and I had just become friends. Not good friends though, the kind of friends that talk about each other behind each other's back, but friends nonetheless. From there I walked over to the satanic stair stepper, making sure to shoot daggers at the lesbians as I passed (who were still there, on the same machines, probably still chatting about that cute waitress they saw at the Iron Skillet), and climbed on for my usual 5 minute torture. No joke, I almost gave up after 2 minutes. 2 MINUTES! That's how much this machine sucks...but I know it works wonders, that's why I always find myself treading up those rotating stairs time and time again.

My arms and legs were very sore at this point from pushing myself to my limits on the swinging elliptical (which I didn't realize at the time was on a level 15 setting, which only increases the tension on the foot swings or whatever they are), which made me even happier. I burned a total of 220 calories during my gym experience yesterday. I burned off my leftover whole wheat spaghetti I had for lunch that day. Yay me! (Fist pump).

I went home and baked up some Gordon's grilled garlic fish filets with a mini baked potato with some low fat cottage cheese on it. The cottage cheese is my sour cream substitute, it's a little chunkier and, uh milkier? I guess, but I happen to love it and prefer it any day on my baked potato. Cottage cheese, lots of pepper, yum.

I also went tanning yesterday too. I am ITCHY!

K well, tootloo.