A new era of cardio-fortitude has begun. I man-handle plyometrics now - hell, I could do it while strangle-borting that baby with the garden-hose and head-butting the shit out of the alien that sprung from my torso. Millard and Patricia (Millard's sweaty beard) too. Those two silly bastards laugh in the face of the monster known as plyotron. The fire it used to cause in Millard's legs is easily doused with a quick ringing of Patricia. They are an unstoppable team that perfectly compliment my gun-slingin', lone-ranger approach to P90X. It's like I'm Superman and they're Batgirl and Robin and our arch villain is the presumed-dead U-Boat Captain Freidrich Flab. And let me tell you, imagining Patricia in that Batgirl outfit shoots sextricity up and down my spine. New Batgirl movie: early 90's Michelle Pfeiffer, Halle Berry, Megan Fox; they all take a back seat to Patricia. The thought of those flowing, luxurious locks shooting forth from that tight leather-outfit is almost too much to handle.
Highlights: We are mid-jump squat, when a few people we do not really know come in the front door. Judging by their attempt to hold back laughter, I'd say home-workouts in matching board-shorts is not ready to be taken seriously by the general public.
State of Mind: It's become a recurring theme, but again, it's clear, I have the cardio and strength of an 8-year old boy. We are getting better at the weight-lifting routines, but still, they are a serious problem. You look at my determined stare, new and bigger arms replete with fat, sexy, veins pulsating through the granite-like tissue and you assume weight-lifting would be no problem. It's like watching Superman walk-up to some dumbbells and struggle - it makes no sense. But, little, do you know those weights are made out of Kryptonite. And, that is exactly how I feel about them - for the time being, they are my Kryptonite. But, that will change, soon enough.
Rating: P90x
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