(Well right now that Noreaga kid on American Idol...I mean, Daniel son can really sing.)
GRUNTING! Yes, the hills, as in the ones I climbed during my mountain bike trek. Ok, so I wasn't in the mountains and the bike wasn't actually moving...but, hey, don't judge me. Praise me for actually going to the gym. Especially since I've gained at least 3lbs over the past two months. I know, it's not as if 3lbs is gonna warrant the lap-band. But, I have to get control over it now before I really grow out of all my clothes. I don't have money for that. I blame the Clomid for the weight gain, when really I should probably just blame myself for the pan of brownies, lasagna, pizza, Hershey's Kisses, etc...you get the picture. It's probably all those things, because I convinced myself that I would be "with child" soon enough, so I might as well get a jump on the weight gain (because eating is fun!). Ah well, 3lbs later and no pink line on the stick, I need to get my butt in the gym. I mean, when I do get knocked up I wanna look like a hot mama (let me dream ok!).
OH, back to the grunting...at the gym. That bothers me. Must the sweaty man behind me really grunt soo loudly that I can hear him over Ina Garten cooking the most delectable cake I have ever laid eyes on. I mean, it totally ruined me enjoying food via TV osmosis. Which really is the way to go if you ask me. Sure you don't get the flavor, the smell, the textures...but what you avoid are all the guilty calories. Yes, so I work out to cooking shows. I do especially well, I have found, when I'm sweatin' to the tune of a delicious dessert cooking. The only problem is, I really do start to crave them.
Back to the grunting. I have been in the gym with this man before. He runs on the treadmill until his shirt appears to be tie-dyed from the sweat he emits within .5 seconds from beginning his run. I mean, I don't want to begrudge the man his health...but honestly I worry about his health. If it's hurting that hard, shouldn't you stop? Work your way up, man and chill with the extra loud grunting. I have a cake baking for goodness sake!
One more thing before I end this pogo stick of thought I have going here. Another comment on grunting. When you are at work or any public place for that matter save your grunting poops for your own toilet. Seriously. If you have to grunt in public to shake that baby free, the kids might not be ready for the pool...perhaps the brown's need a little more time in the locker room before they make their debut at the super bowl. I admit, from time to time one needs to "drop one" at work. In fact, if I had the urge, I'd do it everyday b/c God knows I'd die for a regular colon. However, I don't grunt in public. I let others pee in silence. In fact, I will play musical bathrooms until I am the only one in there b/c I find it unfulfilling to do my "plops" during the flushes of other patrons, it's too stressful.
There, I said it...extra 3lbs and people who grunt in public...you gross me out, Kiss My Grits.
(Yeah, it might be my thang to end my posts with that, but don't count on it. I'll get bored with it, but probably not before you are.)
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3 comments:
OMG, Post 3 and already the poop talking.
"perhaps the brown's need a little more time in the locker room before they make their debut at the super bowl."
Although, I appreciate your metaphor.
1. The grunting bothers me, too. I was in the gym not long ago with a guy who, while lifting weights, basically sounded like he was was progressively having an orgasm with every rep. Lift, grunt, lower. Lift, grunt a little louder, lower. Lift, blow your load, lower. And of course he had to do, like, 3 sets of every exercise. I was seriously uncomfortable being in the room with him.
2. Re: the pooping, I recently had a disturbing experience in the office restroom. The woman in the next stall was talking on her cell phone while audibly taking a dump. Even better, she was using a Bluetooth headset (I could see the phone blinking on the floor next to her feet). I wonder if the guy who invented the "hands-free" headset ever envisioned those hands being free to WIPE while talking on the phone. *shudder*
I'll admit, I've talked to people on the pooper...but like, my mom, or Josh and not in public, on my own throne at my own private house. People are weird!
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