Pre-apocalypse workouts.

So I think the world is officially ending on Friday. So no Christmas shopping for me! just kidding. My mom needs something nice for not killing me in 23 years. It's basically a world record. "Putting up with the half ton teens smart mouth and attitude for 23 years" should be in the Guinness book of world records. Anyways.

Today's workout was fun-ish. I really wish the person who decided to make squats an exercise, myself and a revolver were in a back ally somewhere desolate. We started out with a misery go round of these prance-like lateral steps, prison squats (side note. I wouldn't care to go to a minimum security prison, it seems like summer camp and at least I would have some squats to do in the "yard" that were appropriately named. I watch prison documentaries a lot so if I ever so go to prison I could fit in), then it's equally hated and equally a squat like cousin, the push and press then pistons. Then we did some dead lifts. Then cleans and presses and planks. My everything was shaking during that. My legs still effin hurt. STILL. 3 DAYS LATER. For the love of all that is good and holy. Then we did some step back lunges. My balance is terrible and I hate anything that requires it. And anything called a lunge. Then we did abs. My non existent muscle group. We did these straight leg raises where we held 25 pound plate weights up and did them. Darin acted like we were gonna do brace squats with them. My first thought was please God let that be a joke. It was. Every time I did a squat or squat like motion, my hamstrings felt like they were ripping. Then we did some transverse crunches and CPRs. I feel like Jesus can do his own CPR at this point. All I really want to do at this point it lay down and sleep for a few or 27 hours. Tomorrow is 3/3 and the last partner session for a while. My hands hurt and they have callouses. I know what you're thinking. Get some weight lifting gloves. Alas. That would be right but I really feel like a retarded gang banger in gloves without the fingers. So I'll ruin my dainty hands, I guess. Get this though. Should I ever go to Afghanistan, they would know I wasn't part of the Taliban and wouldn't kill me. That's how they tell if you're one of them or undercover. Village people have tough hands from working and the Taliban-ians don't. They have soft hands. That's what I read somewhere on the Internet. And we all know the Internet can't lie. Also. My back muscles are sore but not any of the rest of my arms which is perfectly fine by me but I'm surprised.

Anyways. I'm off to do something. No I'm not. I'm laying on my couch, relaxing all cool, shooting some bball, I thought I was cool. Ok. I'm not Will Smith and I really am done. ✌