woundgina

oh, dearest readers, i'm sorry for not posting until nearly noon. i had visions of all (3) of you frantically, maniacally hitting your refresh buttons. "why won't he update!?" you're asking yourselves at your desks. this is the first time blogger's let me on their site, i'm sad to say. and if kel (ahem, kelliam) would hurry up and roll out that fabulous redesign he's been promising since october...yet i digress.

i woke up this morning, actually having slept for the second night in a row (apparently drinking to the point of blackout helps you sleep. who knew?), sore as the dickens. i hadn't run a marathon, nor had i taken up ice hockey, figure skating, or racquetball, the three sports i imagine would make your legs hurt as much as mine did. no, dear readers, i did bodypump for the first time ever last night. since most of you don't go to baltimore gay workout station, also known as the downtown athletic club, i'll explain bodypump a little bit:

ahem.

basically you get this dumbell with fairly light weight and you workout every muscle group separately. but you work them out really fast and really hard. like, you do seriously 36 reps at a time. you do some torturous controlled-movement stuff, some torturous full-range-of-motion lifting, all to a soundtrack that includes "she drives me crazy," that crazy "work me and then you touch me until i get my satisfaction" song, and, of course, "everybody dance now." mind you, the whole shebang is led by this fierce black lady named vanessa. a.k.a. omorosa. she's 8 feet tall, wears an expensive fake hairpiece, and has a slammin' body. she is off the fucking richter scale crazy. and she sings along to all the songs. wow.

so the workout itself wasn't terribly hard, mainly because i used light weights because i wasn't sure how much i'd be able to lift. my legs, however, feel like they were sliced open and someone raped the wounds. that's right, i went there. woundgina.

after bodypump (or bp as hilary and i now call it), we did gay abs again. however, since ron has taken his newly-purchased speedo and gone to the fucking bahamas (or is it bermuda? me never knows.) for the week, it was some girl leading the class. some girl named stephanie or rachael (or monica?). she was clearly making the class up as she went along, a fact i was certain of once we got to the routine where she goes, "okay, now do 8 push-ups. now 8 sit-ups. now 7 push-ups. now 7 sit-ups." and on and on and on. we all refused to do it and were laughing at her. which made her mad.

i'm glad you're getting a vacation and everything, ron, but it's time you came back. with pictures of you in that speedo.