Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Scary, but true.

So, let me tell you how much I like the local Y.


Now, exercise and I are not friendly. We're just not. The only way I'm going to run is if someone's chasing me with an axe, and even then I might just opt for death. I'm horribly inept at sports, and my biggest fear is flying off a treadmill and being knocked unconscious. (Ok, that and spiders.)

However, I gained my ass back last semester, and desperate times call for desperate measures... so I reactivated my membership, got P to come along, and hey... it's not that bad. I've even mastered the treadmill! Scary. No spiders, either. Though there is a guy on our regular day, who bathes in brut. If he does laps, it's not bad, but when he parks it on the machine next to you, it's enough to make you want to die.

Now, why do I like the Y?
Well, it's a block away, for starters. It's nearly always empty- except for the guy in the brut. And even if it's not empty, the people who are there? They're people who look like they work out at the Y, not ridiculously sculpted spandex junkies. And by the time I get onto whatever I'm doing, it's just me and the Beastie Boys anyway...


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