Day 23: Shoulders and Arms and Kenpo X

Mornings are different now. I wake up feeling great, energized, and with an overwhelming sense of purpose. I don't really know what this purpose is considering my days consist of an hour of working out, twenty minutes of writing, and 10-13 hours of Olympic watching. I spent an hour-and-a-half watching the powerhouse Russians take on the Finns in women's hockey in French. To put it in perspective, I spent more time watching a horrible bastardization of the sport I love in a different language than being productive. I'm addicted - if you could boil down the Olympics into a solution, I would inject it intravenously. If for whatever bio-chemical reasons it could only be made into a hockey-puck sized suppository, bring it on. Get Crosby to slide a perfect pass over to Iginla and one-timer it in there! If anything, the hockey-puck sized suppository would be more fitting (and, no, that's not a cheap and predictable pun about my sloppy yoga-stretched butthole. I am referring to the prominent role hockey plays in these Olympics). But, Bomber, that would be a highly ineffective technique to apply the suppository. Nonsense, if you watched the game last night you would have seen Crosby and Iginla easily threading needles and picking cherries; my butthole would pose no problem. In any event, I don't really know why I am so obsessed; maybe, my hour workouts from home allow me to understand the training these athletes have to put in. 

The second my eyes fluttered open this morning I was awake and it was 9:30 in the morning. In the last week or so I have been getting up between 9 and 10. For the average person, this is "sleeping-in". For me, it's a foreign beautiful place: actual morning. In the Ranch and Cheese era of my life I could sleep-in for a whole day and not even realize it, which really screws up your day and class schedule. In third year of university, I woke up once before 10 am and that was to drink (it was St. Patty's day). Granted, I love to sleep-in, but, now, once my eyes open, I am energized, ready to roll and full of piss and vinegar.* 

I did two workouts today. I still feel guilty about the weekend, so I am giving my increasingly-ripped and action hero-like body another present. I added the most sexifying workout, Shoulders and Arms. Almost every action-movie poster has a dude holding really heavy guns with giant thigh-like python arms. As of yet, I don't think I could hold those heavy guns and my arms barely even look like male arms let alone male arms that look like thighs. So, the addition was an easy call. It went well. Although, I wasn't super into it; normally, I yell and scream and make all sorts of manly grunts. But, nevertheless, I trucked through it.

I finished the workout just before Millard got home; awful timing. I would have to do both workouts basically back-to-back. Whatever, Rambo fought an entire country's army and won, so this shouldn't pose a problem. We did Kenpo X, which is like Tae Bo except extreme and not gay. This one fits in perfectly with my action-hero aspirations. Once you get the arms, you need the moves. It's also wicked fun with a partner. High-kick, low-kick, hook, upper-cut, followed by "hahhhh", "arghhh", "you die now", "hadukkin", "there can only be one highlanderrrrr". This initially annoyed the shit out of Millard, but he caught on. It reminded me of when I was a kid and had just finished watching a sick action movie with my brother or buddy. As the credits for Operation Condor rolled, you would pull back the couches, and assault every enemy couch cushion with a myriad of deadly Chan-like maneuvers. It's a lot of fun and I highly recommend this exercise especially at parties.

Highlights: Near the end of the first exercise, they asked us to grunt after our punches. I let out a manly, caveman stay-away-from-my-territory-and-women grunt so I couldn't hear Millard at all. During the next punch, as I was about to grunt, my throat sort of stiffened so I couldn't let anything out, which allowed for one of the funniest things I've ever heard: Millard's man grunt. It sounded like a Rabbit coughing. Or a three-old getting the wind knocked out of his lungs. Or a gay-butthole wheezing. It was ridiculous. The exercise had to be paused for 5 minutes because I couldn't stop laughing.

State of Mind: I think my body might be getting less gross. I was touching myself today and after about the first hour I made my way down to my abs. Jesus Christ! No, seriously, I thought I was touching the Son of God they felt so amazing. I just need to eat a little bit better because there is still a little layer fat - nothing insane - that blocks these awe-inspiring slabs of muscle. It's like having the greatest show on earth blocked by a curtain. It's time to pull back the curtain and amaze the audience. 

Rating: S & A (P79X) + Kenpo (P85X) = P82X

*Although, I would much rather be full of essential vitamins, proteins, and carbohydrates than urine and vinegar. Who are these people that derive energy from being filled with urine and vinegar? Anything you eat vinegar with is filling, makes you tired, and has little nutritional value like French Fries. So, either you're eating a large amount of things like fries or you're just chugging vinegar, which, I have never done, but I don't imagine it would make you want to play soccer afterwards. And who derives energy from being full of urine? Even if you were some sort of evolutionarily advanced being that could synthesize and derive nutrients via the bladder, wouldn't you rather be full of the actual stuff that urine-waste comes from? And, who would want to do energetic things with a full bladder - marathoners piss themselves in front of millions of people because it sucks so much being full of urine. I am boycotting this phrase until someone explains it to me.