Monday, June 12, 2006

Return Of The Pod Person

It’s back!

Yes ladies and gentlemen, the ipod has been returned. Actually it’s a new one. According to Apple my last one was ready to visit the big Apple store in the sky. Thank you Applecare protection plan. Best 20 bucks I ever spent..

I realized how addicted I am to my pod. It’s not because of music, it’s those damn podcasts. These amateur radio shows. Some of them are fantastic, and some sound like a dog turd that’s been sitting in the sun to long. If you’ve never listened to a dog turd, try it. I’d like to know what you hear. I have to have my dose of these shows on a daily basis or I feel like I’m missing something. I’m like the child who’s supposed to be in bed, but has to sneak out to see what’s happening at the parent’s party. It’s my curse, I hate being out of the loop.

The biggest reason I wanted my pod back was because I joined a gym. I figured I’m down in L.A. and anybody who is anybody joins a gym. Right? I’m not super fat, but I’m not exactly in stellar shape either. I look like a potato, that’s the best description I can give. I’m very attractive to women who enjoy tubers, or sucking on a french-fry… get it. Yeah it’s a stupid joke, but it’s all I’ve got tonight.

So I’ve been going five times a fuckin’ week. I have enough spare time right now that I can play hamster on a wheel and walk in the same spot for an hour every day. Now I’ve been shown how to use the free weights, so I can get a complex about working out with a bunch of muscle men. I’m standing there struggling with a ten pound dumbbell and the guy next to me is bench pressing an entire fucking machine. Not just the weights but the whole machine. I exaggerate, of course, but lets face it… I am the weakling with glasses and they are the macho men with glandular issues.

But it’s working out really well. I feel better physically. I feel so good, I can smoke an entire pack of cigarettes a day. Is that improvement or what!

My biggest problem with the gym is trying not to look at women on those thigh machines. I don’t want to hit on them, I’m just fascinated by any machine that basically says, “and here’s my kitty, now it’s gone. Here’s my kitty, now it’s gone.”

I figure I'll go for the plastic surgery next. I could use a new nose and bigger lips. That way I can throw on a top hat and look like Mr. Potatohead.

The shitty jokes just keep on coming.

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