Prince Charming Must Be Stopped
Today I’m going to call him what his football team calls him: Prince Charming. Even though all day yesterday I called him everything but a child of God.
Prince Charming, you see, is a middle linebacker. And as a middle linebacker he’s responsible for running defensive plays. It’s a tough position, definitely not one for the weak, and it requires him to work out everyday. Since I’ve decided to rejoin my Roller Derby team after taking a year off, I thought he would be the perfect person to whip my soft self into shape.
I started the morning bragging about how I’d worked my way up to 100 crunches without breaking a sweat. Yeah, he wasn’t impressed. Instead of building on my lame-ass work out routine he handed me an empty milk jug filled with water, told me to hold it straight up over my head and sent me marching up and down a steep hill. For an hour.
People, send help. NOW. I swear I just heard him mumbling something that sounded a lot like “knuckle push-ups.” If you don’t notice any new posts on my blog over the next few days, it’s safe to assume that I’ve drowned in a huge puddle of my own lactic acid.