Total DRAMA Weigh-IN!

Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well. The month has passed by my droogs, time to update the ol' sidebar with new goals, but I have much to tell you oh my brothers and only friends.

sigh - I see I'm still suffering from the dangerous experiment I undertook today. Who knew there would be side effects?

It started innocently enough, a few days ago when AT Everest was all chatty we were gathered around the trainer's desk talking about music. A future project of mine will be seeing if I can collect great workout songs for the iPod from my readers. I'm hoping those of you with experience in this area will email me (you know were I live) and I'll collect them and put them on the sidebar.

Anyhoo AT Everest is saying that she prefers classical. I'm not sure if she means to workout to, but does she? Has it ever been DONE?! Already my mind is tossing out possibilities and discarding them, Requiem for a Mass though intriguing is a non starter. I'd have difficulty explaining why I'm weeping. No, there's only one choice, the glorious Ludwig Van...

Beethoven's Ninth!

I simply must try it! I secretly load the iPod and keep these perilous thoughts from my wife. My wife doesn't like me... thinking.

I decide to do an hour on the elliptical, with and average HR of 130 and thirty on the recombinant at any ol' HR. I don't know why.

I hop on the elliptical, shove in the ear buds and ... Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures!

Somewhere around the fourth movement, I became dangerously psychotic my linkage with A Clockwork Orange complete, shrieking into the empty gym,

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!
Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen,
und freudenvollere.
Freude! Freude!

Struggling with the alto section I'm grateful I can't see myself in the mirror, certain I'd challenge myself with, "Ho, ho, ho! Well, if it isn't fat stinking billy goat Billy Boy in poison! How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if ya have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou!"

Apparently my struggle with self esteem remains ongoing.

My frontal lobes fire off a desperate message, "You have got to calm down!"

I put on normal music for the bike and focus on ESPN. Once done with the thirty I head for the showers, time to face the cruelest of mistresses, the scale.

I was feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it being a morning of no small expenditure when I stepped on the scale after setting it to the previous known weight - 231. It doesn't rise! I slowly slide it down until at 228.5 it moves up.

Sigh. I'm not happy? Why is that? Since I started this madness one month ago, clocking in at 237lbs I've dropped nine pounds but only two since the scales bitch slapped me. She's still angry I guess. I'll need to further adjust my diet... DARN IT!

Drinking milk might help...

Initiative comes to thems that wait.

Bummed with no reason to be...

Bill