Wayback Playback: Screw it! I'll just pay for the lipo

My surgery is later today. While I deal with some prep work, I'm digging through the archives of a now-abandoned journal for some of my old faves. This was originally posted on March 25, 2007. Apparently some things, like my potty-mouth and challenges with exercise, never change.


I like boxing. It's a great workout, and let's face it, from time to time we ALL want to beat the crap out of someone something. Sadly, my home is only slightly bigger than a shoe box, so my dreams of having my very own heavy bag to beat the living snot out of after a hard day at The Bank could not be realized. Not wanting to see her daughter go without something so obviously beneficial to her mental health, my mom bought me a Bally Boxer for Christmas. And then forgot all about it until my birthday eight weeks later. At least we know I'm not adopted.

The Bally Boxer is like one of those giant "Punch the Clown" things you had at birthday parties when you were a kid. OK, maybe YOU didn't have them at YOUR birthday parties, but it's not MY fault you led a sheltered life. You filled the base with water, and the kids took turns knocking ol' Chuckles down until he could get up no more. Training for sociopaths? Perhaps. Anyway, here is what the grown up version looks like:


See, water in the base, air in the top, and Bob's your uncle. EXCEPT! If you're ever planning to buy one of these things, you should know there is a flaw in the design. The base is filled with water because that's what weighs it down. Weighs it down = makes it heavy, for those who need things spelled out, as I apparently do. When you fill things with water, inevitably some will not make it into the container. And wet things get slippery, (Ah, STFU! What are you, twelve?) and wet things that are slippery - and ARE HEAVY! - are hard to handle. You might accidentally drop the flimsy plastic piece of shit (formerly known as the Bally Boxer) on the hard surface that is your kitchen floor. And do you know what happens next?



After a great deal of swearing, standing ankle deep in ice cold water in your kitchen, you might get one hell of a workout laughing until your sides hurt as you mop up the giant fucking mess made by the giant fucking hole in your flimsy plastic piece of shit (formerly known as the Bally Boxer). And with that, I have had enough exercise for today. I also think it's late enough in the day to start drinking.

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