MFDC + Bally's = OUCH
Sometime around November 2006, a combination of illness and severe workiness managed to sidetrack the momentum of regular workouts that I had maintained for the previous 3 years. While thankfully I haven't gained any significant weight (due in no small part to MFDG's Diet Makeover™,) I still have been feeling low-energy and out-of-shape.
Having completed the recent move to NoHo (random note: I'm going to refer to North Hollywood as "NoHo" from now on because it's fun to say it. Try it: NoHo. NoooHooooo,) I decided to join a new gym. Part of the deal at Bally's is that you get a free session with a personal trainer when you join, so I suited up, grabbed my water bottle and got ready to sweat like John Belushi in Vegas in July.
I should have sensed something was wrong when I was greeted by my trainer, a perfect Aryan physical specimen by the name of Gunther. Gunther did his best to politely conceal his contempt for my weak girlie-man shape as he asked me the perfunctory basic questionnaire.
Gunter- "So, Dave, what are your Fitness Goals™?
MFDC- "It's Dan. I would like to not look and feel like a ginormous tub of shit."
Gunter- "Could you be more... specific, Damian?"
MFDC- "Imagine, Gunther, a large, classically beautiful clawfoot tub with brass fittings filled to capacity with fresh feces. My Fitness Goal™ is like to not look and feel like that."
Gunter- "OK, Devin, let's get started!"
And man did we get started. I did all manners of squats, pulls, squat-pulls, pull-squats, and ssssssstttttttrrrrrreeeeeettttccccccchhhhhhheeeeeeesssssssssssss. I asked Gunther half-jokingly how long he'd been a guard at Abu Ghraib. By the end of it I was sweating in the afore-mentioned John Belushi style and breathing like Darth Vader with hay-fever.
BUT.
I'm still going back tomorrow. Where'd that Advil go?
Woot.
Having completed the recent move to NoHo (random note: I'm going to refer to North Hollywood as "NoHo" from now on because it's fun to say it. Try it: NoHo. NoooHooooo,) I decided to join a new gym. Part of the deal at Bally's is that you get a free session with a personal trainer when you join, so I suited up, grabbed my water bottle and got ready to sweat like John Belushi in Vegas in July.
I should have sensed something was wrong when I was greeted by my trainer, a perfect Aryan physical specimen by the name of Gunther. Gunther did his best to politely conceal his contempt for my weak girlie-man shape as he asked me the perfunctory basic questionnaire.
Gunter- "So, Dave, what are your Fitness Goals™?
MFDC- "It's Dan. I would like to not look and feel like a ginormous tub of shit."
Gunter- "Could you be more... specific, Damian?"
MFDC- "Imagine, Gunther, a large, classically beautiful clawfoot tub with brass fittings filled to capacity with fresh feces. My Fitness Goal™ is like to not look and feel like that."
Gunter- "OK, Devin, let's get started!"
And man did we get started. I did all manners of squats, pulls, squat-pulls, pull-squats, and ssssssstttttttrrrrrreeeeeettttccccccchhhhhhheeeeeeesssssssssssss. I asked Gunther half-jokingly how long he'd been a guard at Abu Ghraib. By the end of it I was sweating in the afore-mentioned John Belushi style and breathing like Darth Vader with hay-fever.
BUT.
I'm still going back tomorrow. Where'd that Advil go?
Woot.
posted by MFDC at 8:53 PM
3 Comments:
shape...it's only varying degrees of oval.
...and I thought you were just getting drunk on coffee.
"vaqni"
I'm very proud of you Damien. That's hardcore. I would have left the gym when the trainer introduced himself as Gunther.
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