Bloggiversary

Well, you may not realize that today is a very special day. It is the same day, exactly one year ago in fact, that I created my blog. Although I don't blog all that frequently, I do enjoy it immensely. So, in order to celebrate my "bloggiversary," I decided to whoop it up in many ways. Yesterday, I popped open a bottle of the bubbly and had myself a nice little party for one. Then, I had myself the most scrumdilicious steak and lobster dinner with garlic green beans, pilaf, and crème brulee for dessert. Finally, I joined a gym in order to work off some of my celebratory cholesterol-artery-clogging-calories.

This morning, in my exhilaration of starting off a new year of blogging on the right foot, I packed my Hello Kitty vinyl gym bag with workout clothes of a somewhat fashionable nature, a new pair of squeaky sneaks, terrycloth sweatbands specifically designed for the wrists and brow, and drove myself over to the Fun Time Fitness Center.

I walked briskly through the front door, proudly displaying my newly acquired membership card of the photo ID sort, ready to sweat my butt off. And what do you think I find the instant I set foot inside the door??? Zombies taking a Zumba class! What the hell? I mean, COME ON! It's not that I have anything against zombies... they're cool in a creepy sort of way... it's just that they have no rhythm! You know what I'm sayin'?

Befuddled, I stood and watched as the mindless zombies attempted to keep up with the merengue song of choice, swaying in their rhythmically-challenged way of theirs, relentlessly bumping into each other, unaware of miscellaneous body parts strewn about the floor. I mean, isn't that a health hazard???

Zumba, as you may know, is a total body transformation fitness program. Now, doesn't it seem redundant for zombies to want to totally transform their bodies? I mean, haven't they done that already? What is left to transform into? Hence the redundancy. Perhaps a shower and deodorant would be more productive.

Unable to fathom working out with zombies I found myself sipping an energy drink called the Skinny Monkey at the juice bar. But when a zombie named Richard approached me to my right and did nothing but eyeball me up and down, with the one measly eye he had left, mumbling something that sounded like, "Braaaains," I headed straight for the door and zoomed home to work out with the Wii in the comfort of my zombie-free home, keeping my brain nicely tucked away in its cranium-protected dome, thank you very much.