So, I tried to go to the gym.  It went to hell in a hand basket pretty quickly.  First, you may recall the nasty hoe from my previous post. She came in again and, to my dismay, plopped down on the maniac machine next to me smelling of butt funk and Lady Coolwater.  She honestly needs a better nickname, fat guy style.  Let’s see….Wildebeest.  Henceforth and forever more she shall be known as Wildebeest.  Anyway, I’m truly surprised I could even smell her, considering I have about 11 lbs of phlem in my upper chest, nose, and throat.  It’s truly awful.

So, after about one minute on the maniac machine I learned that I couldn’t breathe.  I stepped off the machine, bent over from lack of breath, and feeling a little dizzy.  The Wildebeest took that as a sign of cardiac arrest and decided to administer mouth to mouth.  Ewe.  I had to stiff arm a bitch like I was the Heisman trophy.

I narrowly escaped with my life.  But, in all seriousness, being sick sucks ferret scrotum.  It means my only recourse for losing weight is to eat less, and we all know how much I like eating less.  But, at least I have a good excuse for not doing any household chores.  In all things there must be balance. 🙂

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