Getting Shredded

When I had that inconvenient time suck called a 'full time job', I could never find the time to go to the gym. Now that I have eliminated that clutter from my life, I really have no excuse not to be doing some sort of physical exercise on a daily basis. I suppose this newfound free time could also be filled with extended gorging sessions, but luckily I've managed to avoid that so far (as I'm on a tight budget and can't afford to buy enough food to gorge myself). Being unemployed, I can't really afford a trainer or gym membership. Luckily, my apartment building has a gym with just enough equipment to keep me satisfied. I wouldn't say that I've reached the status of being completely shredded, but you'll be glad to know I've been making some progress.

Yesterday morning, I had a good hard work out, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. The blood was pumping and I decided that I would take a walk around the block to get a gatorade and cool down. It was a gorgeous day out, and the park next to my apartment was filled with young mothers pushing their toddlers on swings while playing brick breaker on their blackberries. I live right in the center of Hoboken, and I used to work in Manhattan. As I walked across the street towards the park, I was reminded that I definitely live in New Jersey. A white, two-door, tricked out honda civic blew past me bumping some hideous electronic brand of rap. I ventured out into the street, in the center of the cross walk, behind this abortion of a car. I could see from the back that this was no ordinary Honda Civic. The owner of the car, in an effort to show the world that he was in the upper echelon of elite douche bags, decided to place Ferrari stickers all over the back of his Honda.

When I was directly behind the car, this guy decided to throw his high performance (decal'd) vehicle in reverse because he saw a friend of his walking down the street. Why would you look to see if someone was walking behind you before pulling a move like that? You wouldn't. He slammed into my leg, and I pounded on the car for him to watch out. He actually hit me with his car, and when I said, "watch out," he wasn't exactly compelled to apologize. He tried to ignore me at first and continued to greet his hombre. When I told him that he just hit me with his car, he said, "then don't walk in front of my car, a$$hole." His spiky hair and enormous sunglasses must have been pinching his tiny brain, because I didn't walk "in front" of his car. I walked behind it, in the cross walk. Having recently gotten my swell on in the gym, the thought crossed my mind to start some sort of fracas. But this guy looked like he might be packing, and the fact that his friend was there made the thought of getting pounded in front of all the young mothers from my building seem very possible and unappealing.

It all happened so quickly, and I didn't think to get his license plate number until after. So, if anyone sees a young male driving around at high speeds during business hours in a Honda that he thinks might be a Ferrari, punch him in the face for me. This whole experience got me to thinking. Do I really want to be totally shredded? This guy was jacked, and that caused him to be both stupid and feloniously inconsiderate. Being in too good of shape usually just exposes you as someone with horribly misguided priorities and way too much free time. I got my gatorade, continued to walk around the park, and decided that I was going to skip the gym tomorrow. Putting stickers on a Honda is like putting huge muscles on that guy's personality. Under the hood, you're not impressing anyone.