Feeling the Pai... err, Burn

I started working out again. I know what you're thinking, "B, What're you talking about? You're already crazysexy, a GAWD of a man. How can you possibly improve on perfection?"

True. But I must try.

Right now I'm doing the Frankenstein walk, because my muscles are SCREAMING at me. When I was calling around for gym membership prices, each one tried to push me into personal trainers. "Why would I need a trainer?" I would invariably ask. "For motivation, to push you to achieve more," one salesman consultant told me. HA! I push myself WAY too hard as it is. I always have. As anyone that knows me can tell you, I NEVER do anything half-assed. If I were to ever be afflicted with spontaneous amnesia, I'd still know I worked out the prior day, because my arms and shoulders will spontaneously burst into flames at the slightest touch.

SIDE NOTE: To Gold's Gym- I don't dig on the Hard-Sell. You refused to give prices over the phone, so I have to go in and listen to an hour-long pitch on why I should pay for the privilege of walking through your door on a 5,000 year contract and possibly becoming an Amway distributor. Gold's, the used-car dealer of fitness. Yeah, right before I hung up, I farted into the receiver. True story.

Anyway, the stiffness is better, and I'm going back to the Y today on my last free pass, before signing up at 24.

So ladies, try not to look at me directly, at least not without some form of protection. Your ovaries will probably shoot out of your body and try to attach themselves to me, which will affect my swagger. Special looking-goggles will be made available for a modest fee.