So it's never a good sign when you wake up in the morning and the first thing you think is "ugh, I don't want to work out today." That's exactly what I thought when I awoke today. I further took it as a sign from the gods when I couldn't find my work-out shoes. No work-out shoes, no work-out. Let the heavenly choirs sing! I was gleeful, I was giddy. I was so giddy and gleeful that I almost was late for my one class of the day.
During the hellacious class (also known as HP 200) we had to do another charming "experiment" (also known as the things our teacher does to torture us while he smirks the hour away). This was called "how many pushups can you do without stopping." Fun. I? I thought I could only do one. I based this off of fact that last night I tried to show my roommate that I could indeed do pushups. My arms collapsed under me. Not a good sign.
However!! Today! Today I did not one! Not two! But twenty-two! TWENTY-TWO!! Wooo! This still ranks me in the "poor" category in our health book but I don't care! It was more than the one that I predicted I'd do.
Spurred on by the epiphany that I'm not as wussy as I thought I came home determined to find my shoes so I could work out. I looked all around. And then turned around and saw them by the armchair.
I had a fabulous workout. I hate getting motivated to go and I'm not a fan of the sweat afterwards, but gettin' aggression out is SO good.
And why do I feel aggression? Sigh.
So last night some dumbfuck in our section of the apartment unleashed a stink. No, not a stink, a stench. Em and I thought it smelled like parmesan cheese. Like a big smelly block of it that was sitting in the sun for a week. It smelled BAD. It still smells bad. It stinks up the whole f-ing hall.
So then today, I get a message from a friend who's friends with the guy who lives across the hall from us. (Keep in mind that this guy is a steroidic asshole who feels the urge to slam his door at all hours of the night and then clomp up and down the stairs at 5 am.) He put up an away message that said something about the hall smelling like a dead carcass because of us because we're farm girls--meaning the smell is because of my roommate and I. We are the ONLY girls in this section. We smell good. We have three different Glade plugins around the apartment. When we cook, it smells good, not like a rotted block of cheese. It wasn't us. If it was we'd be dead. Besides--do I LOOK like a farmer to you?
So to retaliate, I wrote a message in bold letters on our door's message board. "It wasn't us, asswipe. Love, the farm girls."
Oh, this could be fun.
Hell, at least it provided a bit of fuel for the workout.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~