Day 44: Plyometrics

 We're approaching the half-way point - making it a good time for a little reflection and possibly some pictures, but we'll have to wait and see about those. I have enough buddies who are far too ambiguously sexually-oriented, to feel completely comfortable with hot pics of me out in cyberspace. (I'm mostly talking about Csaba). I don't know if I am totally uncomfortable with, say, posing for TeenBeat or some magazine like that and having the possibility that random gay men are making god sad to it. That's part of being a sex symbol. But, there's something exponentially grosser about some closeted gay buddy crying to your picture with his dick in his hand. "Why was I born this wayyy. Goddamn you Bomber and your unnecessarily chiseled features!". I think it's like the opposite of the naked-pics-of-girls-you-know affect. Yeah, there are many hot pictures of naked women on the internet, and god knows I've tried to see them all. But, lets face it, we would trade any of them for a picture of a hot girl we know. There's just something much more wicked-sexy about that. (Reason being, you know them, you get drunk and look at their cleavage and concoct fantasies involving said cleavage and maybe mustard or a real-life wax statue of George Clooney or whatever and all of this builds, making you more and more curious. You have wanted to see it for so long, plus, quite simply, you've seen them in person and talked to them, so the image itself becomes that much more real).

Alas, I am straying from the point, half-way reflections is the theme of this post and probably the next. I'll unload a few now. My butt-cut. I have not mentioned this yet. I've talked about procrastination, bad weekend habits and so on as being my biggest obstacles. This is not true - my butt-cut has by far been my biggest obstacle. "But, Bomber, whatever do you mean by butt-cut?" Well, I have a giant cut on my butt. It's at the very top part of my crack where it straddles both cheeks and dips into the ravine that leads to pleasure-town. I got this cut the first week doing P90X and yes it should have healed by now, but every time I do Ab Ripper X, I slowly rip, gouge, and tear away any semblance of a scab that was growing. I do Ab Ripper X three times a week evenly spaced-out. This gives my body just the perfect amount of time to create a nice, new layer of scab and then, bam!, I tear it off yet again. (Scab, tear, repeat). Almost all my underwear has blood in it. Do you know how weird that looks if a girl ever sees blood in your underwear. Let alone, all your underwear. I have 2 pairs of black underwear, those are what I wear when I go to the bar. The butt-cut will not heal until I am done P90X, which means I only have to deal with it for 46 more days. Fuck! You cannot say I am not committed.

Moving on, Millard and I, yet again, dominated Plyometrics. I have written about it before, but to quickly summarize, it is apparently the "mother of all P90X workouts". It's mean and relentless. The first month was torture. But, now, we can whip through it with minimal grimacing. We have made some serious strides in these 44 days and we should be proud of it'. Congratulations Millard. Way to go Bomber.

I'll leave the rest of the reflections for tomorrow. I've got, if I decide to go through on it, some earth-shattering news about my future plans. This will leave your jaw on the floor. (And, no, it's not about an upcoming TeenBeat spread. Ha! 'TeenBeat Spread', that sounds really hot).

Highlights: Quite simply, a series of beautiful, synchronized, and perfect moments of plyo-domination. It was like aggressive ballet.

State of Mind: I'm feeling good. It's nice to know you are in much better shape, it opens a lot of doors in terms of stuff you've always wanted to do.

Rating: P90X