Matthew is Not Healthy

Last night I worked at Shopper's Drug Mart. It was an alright shift, many products were placed in neat little rows on shelves. My brother, Marc, and our mutual friend, Mark, were there as well. I started talking about diet, which lead to them suggesting I work out if I wanted to get healthy. This makes obvious sense, until you realize that I'm a very lazy person. Therein lies the problem. Anyway. Today, I tried to take them up on their offer. They live in a townhouse, the basement of which contains a few pieces of exercise equipment. I needed to borrow some shorts from my brother, simply because my wardrobe is... streamlined. If Goldfinger ever irradiated the black denim equivalent of Fort Knox, then the value of my dresser's contents would skyrocket. I tired the eliptical machine at first, which was something I could get into. A little TV, a little eliptical. Not too shabby. I could "not" get into weights. Weights are terrible things that remind me that I have the back of an eighty-year old man and the arms of Jughead Jones. I decided to part with the weights and get back to the eliptical, although over time, the eliptical became less appealing.

The funny part is, I spent all that time attempting to work out, and the part of my body that is most sore is the arm I used to hold the "Wii" remote when I played Nintendo Tennis later that afternoon (which, by the way, is awesome). During the workout, we watched "Baseketball", which I vaguely remember watching in theatres. This time around, however, I noticed Greg Grunberg in a small role. You go, Greg Grunberg. You go.

I'm expecting a call from my Africanized honeybee (Can "you" think of a cuter nickname? Didn't think so) sometime soon. That should be a very fine treat.