How Many Push-ups Was That?

I just read this post, fixed numerous typos and will make an effort not to be so infuriatingly vain in the future...

I've figured out that the arms are my favorite part of the human body. Forget the six pack, give me a gentle yet sturdy set of articulate arms. From the shoulders to the tips of the fingers. Although they are only really attractive when attached to the rest of a body, I'm not really into dismembered appendages all that much.

I've been working out now about 3-4 times a week since January. I looked at my arms the other day and said "Well, hello there? Where did you come from?" There are these weird bumps forming, I'm told they are called muscles .

So I went to get some new undies the other day and for the first time ever I bought a couple of sleeveless muscle shirts (Hey look! We're on sale!). Maybe it was it's convenient placement next to the stylish boxer briefs (Hey look! we match! Buy me too!) or maybe the come hither look of the devilish but pretty model (Hey look, I'm too sexy for my shirt! And pants!). Who needs porn when you can just go to the underwear section in Target. Ultimately, I was remarkably embarrassed to buy them and it took me half an hour of picking them up and putting them back.

Some people might relate this to obtaining a "forbidden" item like condoms for the first time late at night at the drug store (when you should be thinking about your homework instead). When I was in high school, as far as I could tell, you didn't have them because you were concerned about safe sex. It was all about status. Pull out the wallet to show off your learner's permit. Oh my, how did that get in there. Yeah, baby let me show you my dad's new car. I didn't have a wallet because I had nothing to put in it. Thus no condoms for me. Besides, there was no way I'd be doing the deed until I was married.

I think actually, the first time I used one was after Monkey No. 1 was born. The itchy guy behind the counter always gives you a double glance. And sometimes a once over. Sorry dude, I'm already gettin' some tonight. Anyways you should get that eye twitch checked out. The lady cashiers are always unemotional about it. I can detect waves of "Yeah, Yeah, Well I gotta shove a cotton stick up my vagina every month. That's right, the hole down there is called a vagina. How about if I try and insert one into your prize posession. Bastard." Either that or they're irresponsibly perky about it.

Okay so that was a bad example since I was never ashamed to buy rubbers. It's usually fun to go in the store and pretend you don't know where they are just so you can ask the awkwardly aged stock boy to get their reaction.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the shirts. One more thing. I'm not your average coastal dweller. I don't go to the beach. To some that's treason. I drive home for about 45 minutes in mid afternoon sun which is quite enough. So my left forearm is unintentionally browner than my right, each sporting a bizarre farmer's tan that phases into the "Oh-god-my-eyes!" stark white of my shoulders.

I tried the shirt on and somehow a medium was too big. So after exchanging them and swimming around in lycra cotton blend for a bit, I had to perform some yoga gone worng with my arms to finally find all the corresponding sockets. That should have been a sign. Then I look in the mirror.

Yeesh. I look rather freakish. The only way I'll be wearing these in public is with long sleeve shirts and think I am doing something sneaky. But it still felt oddly...refreshing. Which means I'll probably end up with amputations to both my arms when the revolution hits.

It wouldn't be Tuesday without an American Idol assessment. My ranking is pretty simple this week. No question that Vonzell is more than every woman. The rest equaled out in that they were all just okay. I really have no idea who's going this time. If I had to compare from last week Bo, Scott and Anwar did better, Carrie and Constantine slipped, while Anthony stayed about the same. It seems the field was pretty level and everyone is getting quite comfortable on stage.

Peace,
Simon