Mr. Goodbody Vs. Michelin Man
Written by David M. Muench


Three weeks ago I began yet another episode of "It's My Body and I'll Cry If I Want to" gym pursuits. It's been an ongoing battle ever since I ceased "pumping iron" regularly back in '97. In '99, I began doing Tae Bo and joined Gold's Gym. My shape improved dramatically with Tae Bo, but I went to the gym only about five times during the whole year of 1999. At the end of that year, not only did I stop going to the gym, but my Tae Bo sessions went the way of the dying elephant as well. Without the horrid smell of decomposition.

Once again, I have joined a local gym in order to break the vicious cycle of "bald, fat, and ugly." To date, I have been maintaining a regular regiment of cardio and circuit weight training, and after the third week I was able to tell EMSA I wouldn't need them waiting outside the gym.
And it's difficult being "The New Guy" in a gym. No matter how confident you saunter, it's like a neon sign is hovering over you that says "New Guy," much like an online multiplayer game.

On my first day to the gym, I approached this very unusual machine that was sitting in the back of the cardio room. It was rather small and awkward, but I didn't want to seem like a New Guy and not know what the hell I was doing. I positioned myself on it and tried to locate the buttons for resistance levels, time, and program. I only saw one switch, so I pushed it. The obviously foreign machine roared to life and started moving across the floor towards other populated machines, which at once startled me because this was the first stationary contraption that wasn't stationary. I tried to steer away from the innocent people while at the same time realizing that the only use this exercise machine had was to increase your heartrate to dangerous levels.
At this point a man ran up to the errant machine and clicked the switch, then suggested that I would probably get a better workout on an actual exercise machine than on the floor waxer. I agreed, then walked quickly out of the room.

Mr. Goodbody Vs. Michelin Man

Mr. Goodbody Vs. Michelin Man
Written by David M. Muench


Three weeks ago I began yet another episode of "It's My Body and I'll Cry If I Want to" gym pursuits. It's been an ongoing battle ever since I ceased "pumping iron" regularly back in '97. In '99, I began doing Tae Bo and joined Gold's Gym. My shape improved dramatically with Tae Bo, but I went to the gym only about five times during the whole year of 1999. At the end of that year, not only did I stop going to the gym, but my Tae Bo sessions went the way of the dying elephant as well. Without the horrid smell of decomposition.

Once again, I have joined a local gym in order to break the vicious cycle of "bald, fat, and ugly." To date, I have been maintaining a regular regiment of cardio and circuit weight training, and after the third week I was able to tell EMSA I wouldn't need them waiting outside the gym.
And it's difficult being "The New Guy" in a gym. No matter how confident you saunter, it's like a neon sign is hovering over you that says "New Guy," much like an online multiplayer game.

On my first day to the gym, I approached this very unusual machine that was sitting in the back of the cardio room. It was rather small and awkward, but I didn't want to seem like a New Guy and not know what the hell I was doing. I positioned myself on it and tried to locate the buttons for resistance levels, time, and program. I only saw one switch, so I pushed it. The obviously foreign machine roared to life and started moving across the floor towards other populated machines, which at once startled me because this was the first stationary contraption that wasn't stationary. I tried to steer away from the innocent people while at the same time realizing that the only use this exercise machine had was to increase your heartrate to dangerous levels.
At this point a man ran up to the errant machine and clicked the switch, then suggested that I would probably get a better workout on an actual exercise machine than on the floor waxer. I agreed, then walked quickly out of the room.

Blogging: Not For the Weak
Written by David M. Muench

So last night I decided to start a "blog," which sounds like some abhorrent, gooey creature from a really awful B-Movie directed by Ed Wood. The only thing that I can surmise from "blog" is that it's an amalgamation of "web log." Am I even close on that one?


I put in my Blog name, and the description - which I have since forgotten what it was since I entered a different one six different times - and selected my sub-domain: ShinyHappyHead. Well damn the luck if that name was apparently already taken. I go through the process again, choosing "ShinySpeak," and bang, another one taken. I'm starting to wonder if I am one of a group of triplets separated at birth until I decided to choose "ShinySpeakUnplugged," and again it's taken. After venting my frustration at my CPU tower I got wax sardonic and entered the sub-domain name "ashdsafdjfad" or something like that; just an errant blast of keyboard strokes, and that name was accepted.


It was then I realized that the latter name which looked like a town in Iraq was different from the others, in that it was all lower-case.


It took six freakin' times to enter a sub-domain when all I had to do was enter it in lower-case letters. Now I don't recall if the directions said anything about "use only lower-case letters," just the "don't use a space, dash, underscore, etc."


Given my luck with trying to create a Blog thingy, I may or may not be able to post this message. It's very possible that when I hit "Post," my computer will implode and will be levitated out of my window.


Okay, I might help that process.

Blogging: Not For the Weak

Blogging: Not For the Weak

Written by David M. Muench

So last night I decided to start a "blog," which sounds like some abhorrent, gooey creature from a really awful B-Movie directed by Ed Wood. The only thing that I can surmise from "blog" is that it's an amalgamation of "web log." Am I even close on that one?

I put in my Blog name, and the description - which I have since forgotten what it was since I entered a different one six different times - and selected my sub-domain: ShinyHappyHead. Well damn the luck if that name was apparently already taken. I go through the process again, choosing "ShinySpeak," and bang, another one taken. I'm starting to wonder if I am one of a group of triplets separated at birth until I decided to choose "ShinySpeakUnplugged," and again it's taken. After venting my frustration at my CPU tower I got wax sardonic and entered the sub-domain name "ashdsafdjfad" or something like that; just an errant blast of keyboard strokes, and that name was accepted.

It was then I realized that the latter name which looked like a town in Iraq was different from the others, in that it was all lower-case.

It took six freakin' times to enter a sub-domain when all I had to do was enter it in lower-case letters. Now I don't recall if the directions said anything about "use only lower-case letters," just the "don't use a space, dash, underscore, etc."

Given my luck with trying to create a Blog thingy, I may or may not be able to post this message. It's very possible that when I hit "Post," my computer will implode and will be levitated out of my window.

Okay, I might help that process.