In the heart of the Cottonwood apartments lurks a creature so foul, he has come to be known as ‘The Cretin.’ The Cretin stalks around the complex frightening women and stray cats with his hairy shape and fetid stench. He grunts maniacally and struts like a body builder…only lacking muscle mass.
The Cretin, as it turns out, dwells primarily in moderately lit places that smell of sweat and metal, such as a gym. The Cottonwood Cretin can be viewed in his natural habitat at the Cottonwood apartment’s fitness center. He tends to be most active around 5:15 am.
While usually harmless, The Cretin will wait until an unsuspecting gym goer enters the Cottonwood apartment’s fitness center; that is when he strikes. He is courteous enough to allow the gym goer to warm up, begin his or her morning run, and get into the overall grove of the work out. 15 minutes into his/her gym experience, The Cretin opens the door with great ferocity and manliness, slams it with the equal amount of testosterone, and heads straight for the TV. He reaches up and turns on the LG TV and proceeds to turn it to the Spike channel (where ultimate fighter is inevitably on). Just to add icing to the cake, he feels it necessary to turn the volume all the way up, no doubt to intimidate his prey who you can find cowering on the treadmill.
After this awe-inspiring spectacle, The Cretin struts his way to the weight lifting machine. Interestingly, this creature doesn’t seem to require stretching, cardio, or anything to loosen up his muscles before lifting. He immediately moves the weight setting as high as he can stand and begins lifting while perspiring like a pig and screaming/grunting like an angry gorilla. After lifting the weights 2-3 times, he drops the weights, causing them to make a huge crashing noise and sighs/pants for a few minutes. After an adequate rest period, he moves on to the next type of weight lifting. He continues in this fashion for 30 minutes or so. He really ends up resting and panting for the majority of the time, to allow the prey ample time to admire the sweat glistening down his hairy back creating a decent sized puddle on the floor.
Eventually, The Cretin will cause his prey to run away, whether in fear or disgust, no one really knows. There are days when he allows those unsuspecting gym goers to exercise in peace; however, not this week. Perhaps it’s due to the new moon. Perhaps it is due to the meteor shower.
Should you choose to use the Cottonwood apartment’s fitness center, beware The Cottonwood Cretin.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Don't stop 'til you get enough
I have been inspired to rejoin the world of healthy living. This includes moving more and eating less. Blah blah blah. Well, after weeks of half-assed attempts, I decided to go extreme. Since I am financially unable to do a boot camp (5 days/week for 30 days of pain and anguish), I settled on doing something similar on my own. I am currently on day 2 of my ‘independent boot camp’ and I wanted to document what I have learned so far.
1. 5 AM comes really early, regardless of what time you go to bed.
2. My legs will not run before the hour of 6. I tried. They just won’t.
3. I have experienced what it feels like to light your stomach muscles on fire.
4. When I exercise regularly, I inevitably crave French fries, chicken strips, hamburgers, and ice cream (often by 9am).
5. It sometimes is easier to work out without a buddy. I am on my own schedule and I have more freedom. That having been said, I miss my workout buddy (Hilary, I miss you!).
6. I don’t crash at 2 in the afternoon like I thought I would. Stamina…who knew?
7. I am inspired to work out in the evenings, too. I find that a little annoying this early in the game.
8. Don’t get ambitious and try extra weight, additional speed, or adjusted time. Just because your attitude tells you you can, doesn’t mean your body should.
9. Don’t doze off while stretching.
10. I am thoroughly grateful for my apartment complex’s workout room. It delivers me from ugly, hairy, sweaty, fat men who grunt and growl as they do their third bench press.
I am committed to my 5 am workouts Monday-Friday until December 18th. There it is. I will update you at that time (or if I learn more in the process).
1. 5 AM comes really early, regardless of what time you go to bed.
2. My legs will not run before the hour of 6. I tried. They just won’t.
3. I have experienced what it feels like to light your stomach muscles on fire.
4. When I exercise regularly, I inevitably crave French fries, chicken strips, hamburgers, and ice cream (often by 9am).
5. It sometimes is easier to work out without a buddy. I am on my own schedule and I have more freedom. That having been said, I miss my workout buddy (Hilary, I miss you!).
6. I don’t crash at 2 in the afternoon like I thought I would. Stamina…who knew?
7. I am inspired to work out in the evenings, too. I find that a little annoying this early in the game.
8. Don’t get ambitious and try extra weight, additional speed, or adjusted time. Just because your attitude tells you you can, doesn’t mean your body should.
9. Don’t doze off while stretching.
10. I am thoroughly grateful for my apartment complex’s workout room. It delivers me from ugly, hairy, sweaty, fat men who grunt and growl as they do their third bench press.
I am committed to my 5 am workouts Monday-Friday until December 18th. There it is. I will update you at that time (or if I learn more in the process).
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Unlucky number 4
Preface: please refer to the September 28th blog: “Well, it saves on air conditioning…” This is the sequel.
I feel that I have the best luck with fourth times around. My wedding dress was finally cleaned after the fourth attempt, so I therefore have a connection to the number four. Whatever.
Adventure: A fourth trip to the mechanic to make my window work. Up to this point I have been waiting for the part to get in, breaking said part, over and over again. Today, I will attempt to best the beast and beat the window into submission. The story unfolds…
Candace pulls into the mechanic parking lot and parks. She gets out of her vehicle and walks into the shop. A very nice mechanic takes her keys and tells her that it will be a few minutes before her car is taken back. “That’s fine,” she says as she finds her usual place on the broken filthy couch in the waiting area. She pulls out A Confederacy of Dunces and continues reading about Ignatius’ zany antics.
After five minutes or so, Candace notices an older gentleman enter the establishment. He approaches the dirty couch and stands there. Candace looks up.
The man clears his voice. “Do you own the little black Acura?”
“Yes,” she replies.
“I just backed into it,” he said with much remorse.
“Oh. Is it ok?” Seriously!?! She thinks.
“Yeah, it’s ok. My trailer hitch just scratched your bumper.”
“Ok. Let’s go look at it.” Candace rises with little grace off of the broken down couch and follows the man out to the parking lot.
On her way to her car, she passes a huge truck, obviously the culprit. As they pass this monster truck, Candace catches a glimpse of the accident. The man and his mammoth truck did not scratch the bumper. The trailer hitch went straight through the bumper, pierced the bumper creating a six inch gap in the middle.
“I guess it’s a little more than a scratch,” observed the man.
The strangers exchanged information and parted ways. Candace wasn’t even upset. She had more or less resigned herself to accept whatever may happen with this vehicle. Between the broken window, multiple flat tires, break-ins, transmission problems, and now accident, she has learned to shrug and say, I guess that’s the way it goes.
Candace finds her place on the dirty couch once more and opens her book. She may have acquired a new problem with her car, but at least she can fix one today. Ten minutes go by. Enter the nice mechanic.
“Man, I don’t even want to talk to you right now. You aren’t very lucky today.”
Long story short, my window is not fixed. My bumper is not fixed. I have appointments for my fifth and first attempts set for next week. How I wish I lived in a place that didn’t require a car.
So, maybe the fifth time will be the charm.
I feel that I have the best luck with fourth times around. My wedding dress was finally cleaned after the fourth attempt, so I therefore have a connection to the number four. Whatever.
Adventure: A fourth trip to the mechanic to make my window work. Up to this point I have been waiting for the part to get in, breaking said part, over and over again. Today, I will attempt to best the beast and beat the window into submission. The story unfolds…
Candace pulls into the mechanic parking lot and parks. She gets out of her vehicle and walks into the shop. A very nice mechanic takes her keys and tells her that it will be a few minutes before her car is taken back. “That’s fine,” she says as she finds her usual place on the broken filthy couch in the waiting area. She pulls out A Confederacy of Dunces and continues reading about Ignatius’ zany antics.
After five minutes or so, Candace notices an older gentleman enter the establishment. He approaches the dirty couch and stands there. Candace looks up.
The man clears his voice. “Do you own the little black Acura?”
“Yes,” she replies.
“I just backed into it,” he said with much remorse.
“Oh. Is it ok?” Seriously!?! She thinks.
“Yeah, it’s ok. My trailer hitch just scratched your bumper.”
“Ok. Let’s go look at it.” Candace rises with little grace off of the broken down couch and follows the man out to the parking lot.
On her way to her car, she passes a huge truck, obviously the culprit. As they pass this monster truck, Candace catches a glimpse of the accident. The man and his mammoth truck did not scratch the bumper. The trailer hitch went straight through the bumper, pierced the bumper creating a six inch gap in the middle.
“I guess it’s a little more than a scratch,” observed the man.
The strangers exchanged information and parted ways. Candace wasn’t even upset. She had more or less resigned herself to accept whatever may happen with this vehicle. Between the broken window, multiple flat tires, break-ins, transmission problems, and now accident, she has learned to shrug and say, I guess that’s the way it goes.
Candace finds her place on the dirty couch once more and opens her book. She may have acquired a new problem with her car, but at least she can fix one today. Ten minutes go by. Enter the nice mechanic.
“Man, I don’t even want to talk to you right now. You aren’t very lucky today.”
Long story short, my window is not fixed. My bumper is not fixed. I have appointments for my fifth and first attempts set for next week. How I wish I lived in a place that didn’t require a car.
So, maybe the fifth time will be the charm.
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