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Friday Yuk

By jzsdii ·
WEEK AT THE GYM: ONE MAN'S STORY

Dear Diary,

For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing football 20 yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

Called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Vanessa, who identified herself as a 26 yr old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear. My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The Club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Vanessa waiting for me.
She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!!
Vanessa gave me a tour and showed me the machines;She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring, Vanessa was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out of the door. Vanessa made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Vanessa's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Vanessa was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Vanessa put me on the stair monster. Why the **** would anyone invent a machine that simulates an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Vanessa told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other s*it too.

THURSDAY:
Vanessa was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes. Vanessa took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine - which I sank.

FRIDAY:
I hate that ***** Vanessa more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleader. If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Vanessa wanted me to work on my triceps I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the F*C**NG Barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

SATURDAY:
Vanessa left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year, my wife (the b*tch), will choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root canal or a vasectomy.

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Letter to My Pets:

by Bob in Calgary In reply to Friday Yuk

When I say to move, it means to go someplace else, not to switch positions with each other so there are still two of you in my way.



The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. All other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note that placing your paw print in the middle of MY plate and food does not stake a claim making it YOUR plate and food.



The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help in your quest to reach the bottom first, because I fall faster than you can run.



I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think that I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort.



Dogs and cats actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to one another, stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.



For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge of the door and try to pull it open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Honest.



Also, I have been using the bathroom by myself for quite some time -- canine or feline attendance is not mandatory.



I can't stress this one enough -- kiss me, THEN go smell the other dog's/cat's behind.



To pacify you, my dear companions, I have posted the following notice on our front door:



Rules for Non-Pet Owners Who Visit and then Complain About Our Pets



1. The pets live here. You don't.

2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (That's why it's called "fur"niture.)

3. To you, our pets are just animals. To us, they are an adopted son/daughter who happens to be hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

4. Dogs and cats are better than kids because:

- they don't ask for money all the time

- they are easier to train

- they usually come when called

- they don't hang out with drug-using friends

- they don't need a gazillion dollars for a college education, and - if they get pregnant, you can sell the children. :-)

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Not a joke, but its funny

by tryten In reply to Friday Yuk

At the plant I work at we have safety cards that we fill out and turn in for every safe or unsafe act that we observe. Employees are assignes a number to keep the individual anonymous. These card are then reviewed by safety and posted in a pdf with corrective action taken or with what needs to be done. Here is just one of the cards that was posted with resonses from the observer and saftey.

Observed-
Guard driving in unsafe area-too
close to storm pond-could have fallen
in.

Action taken-
Told security to not drive over
there-unsafe

How to prevent (response from safety)
Let him drive into pond -good rescue
training opportunity

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My husband had this on our voice mail at one time..

by maecuff In reply to Friday Yuk

Hello, Welcome to the Psychiatric Hotline.

If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2.

If you have multiple personalities, please press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are paranoid-delusional, we know who you are and what you want. Just stay on the line so we can trace the call.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a little voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are depressed, it doesn't matter which number you press. No one will answer.

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