Last Friday I did something I haven't done in nearly six years. No, not masturbate - I do that quite frequently, thank you. No, I did something that requires a slight bit more effort and a whole lot less Jergens. I worked out...at a gym. I hadn't formally worked out since the fall of freshman year of college. And even then it was a pretty weak routine and it only lasted a couple months before I gave into drinking and video games. Hmmm, squat thrusts or Madden 2001? The choice was simple. Also, I'm very lazy.

But this past December I told myself I would make a New Year's resolution. I never make those things seeing as how I never keep them. Probably due to the fact that I am that lazy. At that point in my life though, I knew that I needed to make a change. Yes, I'd be switching from Tide Spring Clean to Tide Mountain Fresh. It was a bold move but I had to make it. Oh, I also told myself I was going to work on getting a job across the country to start a new chapter of my life. I wanted to try something new and I felt I needed a nice change of scenery. So, to go along with that, I would start to get into some kind of shape. The doctors call it being "healthy." I don't really understand it but it's supposed to be wild. That means better eating habits and less boozing...eh, maybe just drink more vodka and less calorie-filled beer. Oh, and I'd definitely be switching to the good TP. You gotta spoil the sphincter every now and again. I feel my cornhole has taken enough punishment from that one-ply crap over the years. Time to step up to the big leagues.

Well, in conjunction with these major changes there was only one thing left for me to do to live a little bit healthier: work out. Now there was one stipulation to this resolution - I wouldn't start it until I finally moved out to Los Angeles. I don't make resolutions without giving myself a loophole. So I was able to eat like crap, rock the cheap TP and be a lazy fatass until late March. That's a pretty damn good loophole if you ask me. Of course I almost gave myself an ulcer in February but that's neither here nor there.

So here I was last week. Staring the bench press right in the lug nut. It was like a standoff in an old Western except I had no gun and the gym had an AK-47 and a dialogue bubble ('cause gyms can't speak) that said, "You made a promise. Now get 'er done, Nancy boy." That's what I would have said if I were the gym. I'd also probably get harassed by other fitness centers because I spelled my name, Jim, in such a fairy way. What are ya gonna do; it's the 21st century.

Anyhoo, I plunked down my cash for the requisite fees and there I was. I was gonna work out. And boy howdy did I. You see, when you first sign up you get a free session with a personal trainer. This dude pushed me so hard I thought I was going to throw up. The heaves were there, people. I ran through about eight different stations in what these fitness people call a "circuit" in about 25 minutes. I thought I was going to die. Why I didn't have someone tape this for your amusement I'll never know. I'm sure it was high comedy for anyone at the gym. And oh yea, you don't feel sore the next day. You just feel really, reeeally sore the second and third days. I could barely move my arms because my triceps hurt so bad.

But you know what? You gotta fight through the pain. And that's exactly what I did. I went back Monday and kicked maximum ass for an hour. I don't feel that sore anymore and I plan on hitting the gym at least three times a week from now on. What's my motivation you say? I'll tell you exactly what I told the trainer last Friday: "to look good naked." Because really people, isn't that why any sane person goes to the gym? Those meatheads are just kidding themselves. Who cares to be that big? Wow, you can lift a desk over your head. Does that get you laid more than another guy that just looks good enough? I doubt it.

That's right people, "good enough" gets the job done in my book. I'm working out to look "good enough." Hell of a resolution, huh? That's my philosophy - strive for mediocrity. If I can look good enough to bag chicks that would normally be out of my league then that's all I need. That and my massive horse-penis. Oh, and I almost forgot. I had one more resolution: to stop exaggerating about my dong size. Eh, it happens to the best of us.