I knew creating this blog was going to be the start of a lot of trouble but trouble is my middle name - I'm a glutton for it. Actually, maybe "Glutton" is my middle name...better fish the the birth certificate out of the safe-deposit box and check. And by "safe-deposit box" I mean plastic tub from Wal-Mart housed in an antique oak cabinet. A stellar place to keep those documents you don't want destroyed in a fire.
No really.
Think about it. That cabinet is made out of wood so bone dry it will burst into flame at the mere
mention of fire and THAT will, in turn, instantly cause the plastic tub to melt, forming a protective cocoon around the important documents.
You know, like that mosquito encased in amber in Jurassic Park...that held the DNA of the dinosaurs? That they reconstituted?
Just like that.
Sure Barney got loose, freaked out, ate a buncha people, three movies later got himself on a ship, sailed to California and ate a bunch MORE people...but that isn't the point is it?
No. The point is that that dinosaur survived hundreds of millions of years of evolution, volcanic destruction, ice-ages, earthquakes, life extinguishing meteors and lived to eat again. Why? Because he was inside a mosquito encased in a protective cocoon of amber. And amber is just some old-as-shit resin that had the moisture cooked out of it. That Wal-mart tub is made out of plastic resin and the flash fire of the antique cabinet will cook the moisture out IT too....and form a the same protective cocoon.
Its frickin' genius. And I don't have to remember a combination.
But I digress.
This blog is trouble, I knew it would be and the immediate proof is that "The Gauntlet" post. I mean, The Fit Porpoise is about getting my fine, porpoise-like physique into some sort of other - less aquatic looking - shape and is the direct result of the aforementioned (though incompletely told as of this writing) "Challenge" - a very specific challenge, issued by the similarly aforementioned nice-smelling "Wives". And what do I get for my philanthropic and magnanimous efforts to enlighten you - the gentle reader - with my story?
ANOTHER FUCKING CHALLENGE!
"Do some push-up!" WAH!
"Do some sit-ups!" WAH!
"Do some pull-ups!" WAH!
Hey Oak-Tree...FUCK YOU!
Oak-Tree's issuing instructions and demanding I blog about it. That's rich. This is the fucker who got me into running a couple of years ago, got me to sign up for a half-marathon, got me running in 17degree weather at 5am in the morning because "he was too busy" to run any other time....then pulls up lame after its too late to back out.
Ever see a tree fall on a stop-sign? Pretty much what happened. And I'm left to run thru his fancy subdivision in the dark, avoiding leash less dogs with names like "Knightsbridge Squire Muldoon" and horse-flies the size of Volkswagen-beetles all because this Sequoia sized, ex high-school soccer star's calf muscle couldn't take the pounding it was getting from his
Big
Fat
Ass.
I managed 3 pull ups, 10 push ups and a knot on my head because my "pushmepullme" is setup in a closet doorway and I hit my head on the wall when I rolled back trying the sit-ups. So there. Fuck you.
BTW - that Stop Sign? Still bent from when Oak-Tree here fell on it.
