okay, I admit it, I like it

I like the gym. I wanted to hate it. I dragged my lazy ass in there prepared to hate it. It's brand new and fancy and looks like it belongs in Orange County. I hate Orange County. I only went because Jack LaLanne told me to. It was his 90th birthday and he lives near here and they interviewed him on the news. And he basically said, "Get off your ass or die." So I sashayed my hippie ass down to the emerald city, parked my economy car among the BMW SUVs and mini-vans, and took the plunge. I wanted that brand spankin' new pool and maybe the other stuff.

And, well, it's pretty damn nice. The pool rocks. The spa is nice. The machines are clean. They give you warm towels. And it's almost all old ladies when I go. Friendly hilarious old ladies.

I'm getting stronger and I don't hate it. And it's near Trader Joe's, so I get my shopping done without complaining about driving out there. Go figger.

Funny side note: I bring my headphones and plug them in on the cardio machines so I can hear the tvs. I use the little heart monitor thingy every now and then. When they talk about fucknut George or his insane war, or when I watch Faux News, my heart rate goes up. When I choose a different channel, it goes back down.