Thursday, May 31, 2007

More of my revolting glass-half-full ponderings.

Hey, internet!

Yesterday's first meeting with the trainer went fine! He had me lifting a few weights and doing a few balance-y, coordination-y things and I didn't even fall over. Also, I didn't kill myself lifting the heaviest weights because, well, why? So that actually went pretty well.

I mean, the worst thing about it was realizing that I was probably old enough to be his mother.

Today I have a few body aches, but nothing major. Nothing that couldn't be cured by some time in the whirlpool, drinking champagne and sweating, followed by an hour-long full body massage. And since I'm not getting those, isn't it lucky that 45 minutes on the treadmill and a hot shower will also take care of the situation.

God ... how can I have nothing else to say? I don't, except a shout out to the Lohan clan. Keep it up, people! Because you is writing my Mamarazzi entries for me, practically.

Oh, and the foot is loads better. So please don't leave me comments about Plantar warts, because 1., that's not the problem, and 2., Ew.


  1. Please note that I haven't left a single comment about ANY kind of warts. Ever.

    This whole exercise thing is making me very nervous.

  2. I think I'm getting a wart on my hand. What, you brought up warts.

    I was born on a Wednesday too. I'm full of woe and shit.


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.