Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Jazz Hands for Fitness?

Ok. I know I already posted today but I gotta share this RIGHT NOW.

I went to the gym after I finished my post earlier today because it was quite literally the only way I could avoid actually ordering a pizza for delivery right here at work. Of course, the fact that I followed up my workout with Corn Nuts was probably counterproductive, but that is beside the point.

So...I'm at the gym. Jogging away on my treadmill dreaming about melty cheesy and pepperoni goodness while waiting for some random chica to get off MY machine. (My gym has this machine called The Wave that is kind of like a cross between an elliptical, a stair climber and speed skating and it is AWESOME. I lovelovelove that machine but they only have one and I can't tell you how bitter I am when I arrive and someone else has dared to profane it with their presence.) So back on topic...I'm on the treadmill, trying not to give this dumb broad the stink eye for being on MY machine when she busts into this slowmo jazz hands/mreow kind of movement like she's a refugee from Cats who can't quite remember how to act like a cat or a woman trying out for the part of a senile cat doing a rain impersonation.

She did it for 10 minutes straight.

I deserve a prize for not falling off my treadmill 'cause there just isn't comedy anywhere as good as that, my friends, nosiree.

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