2nd Journal for 2010: Workouts

I've been hitting the gym lately. Not to get in shape; I think anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I'm already very much "in shape". Working out can be about going from bad to good (which is something I would encourage you all to take part in), but for those of us who are already good it must be said that it is a worthwhile endeavor to perfect a good thing, or even polish a perfect thing.

Thanks to a decision that, a few years ago, made my tuition go from a number so big that I don't remember what it is to a number that I haven't looked at or heard spoken, the institution of higher learning that I attend now includes a membership to the Hannibal YMCA. I didn't ask for it, but I decided that I might as well start using this thing I'm paying some amount of money for. As often as possible, I drive on over to the YMCA (I don't feel as though I know it well enough to start calling it by its nickname, "Y") and shuffle through a locker-room full of wet, naked old men (who seem to spontaneously generate out of such conditions), change into my loose-fitting exercise gear and commence chiseling granite. The tools with which I attempt this feat are humble, but varied. With free weights, levers, pully things, and all kinds of weird looking chairs I task myself with reaching pinnacles of fitness that glorify the creator.

Though I am just now taking full advantage of my membership, I'm no stranger to workout equipment. In high school I took one semester of Weight Training and a semester of Advanced Weight Training. Both courses were taught by a football coach who seemed to be bitter about losing his hair. Honestly, his attitude may have had something to do with the fact that no one showed him any respect, but for my part I can guarantee I would have listened to him more if he had a decent head of hair. These classes taught me a little bit about weight training and a lot about "Jailbreak"; a variation on the Dodgeball convention that allowed for more players and more ways to reenter the game once eliminated. In retrospect, the title "Jailbreak" turned out to be an unfortunately accurate predictor of many futures belonging to those enrolled. Not in that any of the students I'm thinking of ever actually broke out of a prison; they are definitely still locked up.

My experience now is much more sophisticated. As an educated college man only months away from my graduation in December, my approach to "gym-ing" has become a fine-tuned personal science. Using audio, visual, and emotive aids, I've been able to maximize the effectiveness of my exercise time. I've thought about writing an exercise manual for those of you out there who want to look as good as me, but frankly I just don't have the time. What I'll do instead is list some of the techniques that have been treating me so well at the gym. In this way I'll be doing my part in America's healthcare crisis and our country's struggle to reclaim the title of "Most beautiful people" back from Argentina.

Workouts

Twitter-Crunches: 140 crunches, keep count with cell phone in hand by tweeting each crunch

Unemployment lifts: For every job you interview and don't receive, go back to the interviewer's office and lift their desk above your head. Who knows? This may end up getting you the job.

The Native American Guilt-Cycle: (for white people only) Set an exercise bike to its highest difficulty setting and bring mp3 player with headphones. While pedaling, listen to "Song of Crazy Horse" by J.D. Blackfoot. The song is over 20 minutes long and provides a history of the US Government's treatment of Native Americans. This provides ample workout time and you should be fueled by your righteous anger toward paleface and his empty promises.

Harry Potter pull-ups: For every Hogwarts professor you can name from the Harry Potter canon, do one pull-up. This makes sense because the more you know about Harry Potter, the more you probably need to work out.

Keyboard push-ups: Place your computer keyboard on the ground. Putting your hands at home position, begin push-ups. This isn't clever or meaningful, but I just want to see how it effects those with ergonomic arrangements differently.

I promise I'll come up with more, but I really must be going because it's late and I heard that if you don't get enough rest, you'll never bulk up and be more satisfied with your self image so you can go at least one day without spitting at a mirror.

If you have any tips, please share!

1st Journal for 2010

I'm terrible at guessing and I guess I always will be. Every day I guess what the lottery numbers will be and I've never gotten it right. Last time was even worse because, though I guessed that I could afford two lottery tickets and a blue slush-pop, it turns out that the guy who works behind the counter now is Rick Yates; someone who I owe an amount of money that I can't remember.

I tried to participate in an office football pool once. Not only did I lose my five dollars, but one of the guys came up to me and started taunting me, "You can't play if you don't work here!", "How did you get past the alarm system?" I get it man, but don't discriminate against me because of my bad luck. I mean honestly, I'd have better odds at the Kentucky Raffle than the Kentucky Derby, but too bad I don't get a shot at either because the fates caused me to be born in Missouri.

You might think someone like me is pretty bitter about their position in life. I'm not. I know that there have to be losers if there are going to be winners, but I'd like to meet these winners. Who are all these mega-successful guys who are getting all the positive vibes I clearly lack? I mean, I've got some theories as to who they might be. A couple weeks ago, on the subway, I saw this guy picking on his guitar. His fingers were flying and strumming against the strings with seemingly no rhyme or reason and what came out was beautiful music. Now I've done the exact same thing with a guitar in my lap and it doesn't sound like music at all. As soon as I start picking everyone gets real mad at me. How am I supposed to get any better if I can't practice? And how am I supposed to practice if you don't let me use your guitar?

Another recipient of my good luck must be these jokesters I've seen at the bar. These jokesters are always joking around, telling their jokes to women; it's gross. Hey, look at me, I'm so clever because I can lighten the mood with this joke. What they don't know is that they're walking a tightrope with these girls. They're balancing on a razor's edge of comedy that could land them in deep trouble; I should know. They may be ignorant of this fact because they got lucky with their joke. It may have resulted in their getting a girl's number or even taking her home, but it doesn't always work that way. I can't count how many times I've told a joke to a girl who ended up slapping me. But Nick, maybe you should stop using dirty jokes. You're missing the point!! The jokes I'm telling are the exact same jokes I've heard those jokesters tell time and time again. But Nick, maybe you're telling these jokes to the wrong women. Wrong again! When I tell these jokes, I'm often telling them to the same women who laughed so readily at the jokesters. Huh-haw-haw-huh! There seems to be no way to predict when you'll get what reaction because I've tried every day of the week, which by the way, just gets you banned from a bar.

Basically, I just wanted to admit that I'm coming to terms with my bad luck. I used to have hope that if I held out long enough something good would happen, but that hope has been shattered. I don't even bother guessing at the lottery anymore; I've switched to just picking numbers at random. The good news is that I found a great job that pays in cash. I'm usually just delivering packages to people behind buildings and everyone I come into contact with is pretty nice. My boss is hilarious and always poking fun at me. First time I met him, he said, "If you go and tell anyone about what you're doing, I'll kill you." Haha, "Understood, boss!"