Grey Hair
I may or may not be sexually attracted to my personal trainer. I want him to misunderstand the nature of our relationship as trainer and trainee. This is completely irrelevant to what I want to say, but a starting point nonetheless. What is important are my deltoids, triceps, and obliques that are going to be so cut they are sharp to the touch. All I need is a proliferation of the minimal motivation that I have festering somewhere inside of me. I am eating healthfully, sleeping well, limiting my stress, driving recklessly, and sunbathing all day. I am doing everything properly, I just need to exercise. I cut out all of the drugs, except meth, which helps me sleep. I am completely mentally stable, I even think I am going to invest in gold or create glass from sand and heat and sell it for a lot more than I made it. Anyways, back to me, this is my blog of course. I need a strong lower back. I will often times be depositing money in the bank or valeting my car or eating truffled caviar and all of a sudden my back will just give out. Now, I don’t want to be one of those old people who break a leg from walking, like the Pope who broke his wrist this morning or whenever (how is he going to consummate his relationship with his hand now?) I know Amy Sedaris installed a cordless phone down by the floor just in case she ever fell in her apartment but I am not that serious. What I am trying to say is that I am getting older. My therapist told me that she noticed my gray hairs outside of her office in the light just the other day. I told her that I needed positive feedback and support and then killed her. I often times have dreams that my teeth are falling out or that my legs will give out on me. You would think this would be motivation to go to the gym. Well, I did go today, for 20 minutes. Okay, I mean it’s not that much but it is a step up from smoking a cigarette on the way there and back. Some people are really bad, someone once told me they saw a bunch of women in the locker room eating Chick-fil-A off of the benches. I guess it is one step at a time. And that meager sentence will provide the weakest conclusion and antidote to a completely nonsense blog. Thank you.
