Richard Simmons has made a career by sliding Hawaiian hot dogs down his throat.
For those of you who have read my journal, you may be aware that I am fond of handstands. Not just typical handstands but, handstands that re-define physics. I noticed my talent for inversion at a young age. My cousin found it funny to hang me upside down, 20 feet in the air off of a banister, and swing me around until I felt the urge to vomit. As the blood rushed to my head and my little eyes focused on the beige carpet below, I knew that I had been given a special gift. This gift would allow me to invert myself like a bat and always maintain a strong focus. Over the years I honed my skills by eating a surplus of Hawaiian hot dogs and sugary foods. Knowing I had a natural talent, I forewent the desire to train for balance and instead watched many hours of “Transformers” and “Who’s the boss?” on television. When the time came I was mentally prepared. One drunken thanksgiving I raised my arms and legs thinking I wouldn’t need assistance. Quickly landing on my head my cousins rushed to my aid and lifted my portly frame. After accomplishing the feat I was saddened to realize that I myself had lost the skills that were once so important to me. I knew I had to train and at that moment decided to watch Rocky IV. If I trained using techniques made popular by Richard Simmons I may have lost all remnants of my sexuality. Thus, I decided to train as if I were about to fight an evil Russian boxer who used steroids and had a ball busting wife.
As the pounds left my frame and my body began to look as if it were forged from steel I decided to re-train myself in the arts of Hand-Stand-Do. My first attempt would take place at my cottage during a family event. I put my hands on the floor and arms in a ridged position, took a deep breathe and hoisted my body in and inverted position. SUCCESS! Now that I was familiar with the basics it was time to up the ante. While bored and in the basement, I affixed a skipping rope to a ceiling fan. I then took an inner tube and tied it to the skipping rope. Once this obstacle was complete I decided that it would be fun to throw a Frisbee through the inner tube. When my uncle and cousin saw what I had created they decided that they would compete. Knowing the inner tube wasn’t challenging enough I determined that this was a good opportunity to flash my skills. I put my arms in a ridged position and hoisted myself up. Sadly my legs got tangled in the inner tube. To free my disjointed limbs I began to flail them about as if I were an 80 year old women searching for the gas pedal. This caused the skipping rope to tug on the fan. After falling on my shoulders I looked up and assessed the damage. Apparently I had not only broken a metal blade from the fan but, also caused the fan to be permanently tilted on a 60 degree angle.
Saddened by this attempt, I decided that last night was a good chance to re-acquaint myself with my love of being inverted. I began to feel a tad saucy as I listened to the new Madonna song “Hung Up”. As such, I did a few pelvic thrusts and started gesturing to a mirror. I am not sure if I was trying to proposition the mirror but, I can honestly say it really wasn’t interested in my advances. At this point I put my hands on the ground, made my arms ridged and decided to hoist myself in the air. As I heard the stolen rifts of ABBA in the background I noticed that I had gone up on a slight angle. Trying to correct myself resulted in my legs flailing and feeling a sense of panic. This was the type of panic you get when you think things like; Am I destined to die from doing a hand stand? If Lois Lane is human; wouldn’t Superman’s orgasm kill her?” Just then a loud squeal was heard throughout the house, ironically not from Madonna’s voice but, from me as I collected my body off the floor. Not only did I not feel my arm but, my index toe (the one I use for pointing and to hold my chopsticks) swelled up twice its size. Luckily I am alive however, I am a tad bruised. If you have been paying attention you will realize that the moral of this story is that inner tubes can be found cheap at Wal-mart and Madonna can be found cheap on the streets of London.
Lady Madonna, or the bitch that fucked up my toe?
As the pounds left my frame and my body began to look as if it were forged from steel I decided to re-train myself in the arts of Hand-Stand-Do. My first attempt would take place at my cottage during a family event. I put my hands on the floor and arms in a ridged position, took a deep breathe and hoisted my body in and inverted position. SUCCESS! Now that I was familiar with the basics it was time to up the ante. While bored and in the basement, I affixed a skipping rope to a ceiling fan. I then took an inner tube and tied it to the skipping rope. Once this obstacle was complete I decided that it would be fun to throw a Frisbee through the inner tube. When my uncle and cousin saw what I had created they decided that they would compete. Knowing the inner tube wasn’t challenging enough I determined that this was a good opportunity to flash my skills. I put my arms in a ridged position and hoisted myself up. Sadly my legs got tangled in the inner tube. To free my disjointed limbs I began to flail them about as if I were an 80 year old women searching for the gas pedal. This caused the skipping rope to tug on the fan. After falling on my shoulders I looked up and assessed the damage. Apparently I had not only broken a metal blade from the fan but, also caused the fan to be permanently tilted on a 60 degree angle.
Saddened by this attempt, I decided that last night was a good chance to re-acquaint myself with my love of being inverted. I began to feel a tad saucy as I listened to the new Madonna song “Hung Up”. As such, I did a few pelvic thrusts and started gesturing to a mirror. I am not sure if I was trying to proposition the mirror but, I can honestly say it really wasn’t interested in my advances. At this point I put my hands on the ground, made my arms ridged and decided to hoist myself in the air. As I heard the stolen rifts of ABBA in the background I noticed that I had gone up on a slight angle. Trying to correct myself resulted in my legs flailing and feeling a sense of panic. This was the type of panic you get when you think things like; Am I destined to die from doing a hand stand? If Lois Lane is human; wouldn’t Superman’s orgasm kill her?” Just then a loud squeal was heard throughout the house, ironically not from Madonna’s voice but, from me as I collected my body off the floor. Not only did I not feel my arm but, my index toe (the one I use for pointing and to hold my chopsticks) swelled up twice its size. Luckily I am alive however, I am a tad bruised. If you have been paying attention you will realize that the moral of this story is that inner tubes can be found cheap at Wal-mart and Madonna can be found cheap on the streets of London.
Lady Madonna, or the bitch that fucked up my toe?