J-Vicious was apparently surprised to see me walking up to PlayFITStayFIT yesterday.
“I haven’t even finished your Google Doc!”
Because after everyone got all up in their feelings about a few missed events last week, he said he was going to create a Google Doc for my friends to use to claim my time.
And he thought he was being funny. But ok, first? What you’re referencing is actually a Google Sheet. Not a Google Doc. And second, please actually make me one of those.
Seriously.
My only means of tracking this shit currently is Facebook Events.
And I haven’t yet convinced any of my jobs to use those for my work schedules.
Of course, none of my work bosses will send me freakin friend requests anyway. So…
Anyway, cardio day at PFSF.
And J-V suddenly thinks he’s a Leo. And can claim an entire month for his birthday.
Dude. You’re not one of us. That’s not for you.
It’s bad enough that you try to claim Jesus’s day.
Sit down.
So, you look at that board. And then at your partner. Which, ok, we didn’t have to have partners. But I’ve developed some sort of weird codependent semi-abusive relationship with Fall Risk. Mostly out of fear that if I don’t grab hold of her at the start of every workout, J-V will make me partner with him and that is always some straight bullshit. So obviously Fall Risk and I are just partners always.
And this workout requires you to do 3 minutes of one exercise. Then 2 minutes of another. And 1 minute of the third.
(See, J-V? I pay attention…when Fall Risk re-explains your directions to me…)
And you get to pick.
Which is exciting.
Because psht. Three minutes of running and only one minute of slam ball burpees. Obviously.
Except there’s that little X2 at the bottom.
And this gremlin says you have to switch it up on the second round. Like, if you do one minute of bear crawls in the first round. Because obviously. Bear crawls. Then you have to do three minutes of those bitches in the second.
But look at that bullshit. How do you maneuver that? Like, what’s our strategy here, Fall Risk? How can I avoid three minutes of any of these exercises? Except the running. I’d like to just always do three minutes of the running, please.
You can’t.
So dancing. That’s key.
Because J-V picked my music for tonight’s workout. And when you spend enough time dancing, you spend way less than three minutes doing anything.
And I didn’t pee myself once during the Not really three minutes of jumping jacks. Or bag jumps. Or box jumps. Or burpees.
So, yeah. I’m feeling pretty youthful.
Which I needed.
After Saturday night.
When Lech Walesa (See? I told you F4 Guy wasn’t gonna like his nickname. And apparently this Lech Walesa bullshit is a sign of intelligence or something. Which is a whole notha story. Because dammit, y’all. We won. You have to stop saying that we didn’t win. ((It’s fine. It’ll make sense when I tell that story eventually…))) said that he looks younger than me. And told me to ask the bartender.
“He’s gonna say you do, though. They always go with the females.”
And he did. Say I look younger.
And then followed that up with, “Yeah, I’m never gonna tell a chick she looks older than a dude.”
Dammit.
Then what was the point in asking??
And he is actually older than me!
And then as Fall Risk and I rolled up into Target last night to meet Rogue and Tiny Brazilian to do all of our Angel shopping. I grabbed a cart. (Not a buggy, Fall Risk. Those are carts. We’re not Amish.) And fuckin Tiny Brazilian tells me I look like a soccer mom or some bullshit.
And then tries to lay her head on my shoulder.
Which, she can’t. Because she’s about two feet tall.
But still.
Get the fuck off of me.
I know what a soccer mom looks like. I was a soccer mom for 20 damn years…
Fuck, that sounds like a lot of years…
Look. All I know is I didn’t pee during any of the jumpy exercises. So obviously my body is regenerating my youthfulness.
I mean, I’m not gonna violate any of the math dating rules or anything. (Did you know? There were dating rules? That are math? Fuckin Lech Walesa.) Because I probably can’t do the math required for that anyway.
But still.
I’m super young.
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