met with trainer thingie last night. and despite him being really late — and actually having no clue he was scheduled for anything — he was nice. did i “just absolutely *love* him” like the gym wench said i would? no. he was kinda like a stray puppy, so i tried to be nice. but i was confused and surly and didn’t really know wtf the point was anyway. i can budget to pay my membership, but a personal trainer? as if!
that said, it was fairly unproductive, and i just kinda puttered around with him. only 10 minutes walking — WALKING SLOWLY — on the treadmill thingie (which i hate). mehz0rz. i should’ve just blowed him off and done a real workout. because it felt like i didn’t do anything, and really, i didn’t.
and i’m missing tonight because i’m meeting jetta for teh usual. which i wouldn’t miss for the world, but combined with last night’s lackluster “fitness assessment” and missing tonight i can’t help but feel ever so slightly guilty. because i really can’t afford to miss and i was doing pretty good, actually. hadn’t missed a day all week since saturday. and the week before (since i started on a saturday) i only missed twice. bluh, i was hoping not to. bluh squared.
and i just don’t get it i don’t get how someone is supposed to have 4-5 small meals a day, much less 3. trainer gym dude last night said i should eat more, and often, etc. but most days i can’t even find the time to eat once or twice. or like last night, so tired when i got home that dinner was a few handfuls of nuts. (heh) wtf?
i need like 12 more hours per day. seriously.
or crack.
crack would probably be helpful, i’d get oodles done, i wouldn’t need to eat because the wonderful wonderful crack would sustain me, and i’d run super fast. cuz lord knows you ain’t catchin’ no crackhead.
