“Come on! Do it with me! We can totally do it together and no one will know. We’ll share the pain. “
Somehow I had fallen asleep during the afternoon. I usually don’t nap, can’t nap actually; however, on this lazy day I managed to fall asleep fully clothed in the middle of the bed. Stretched out like a swastika. What I was not aware of, at the time, was that I had fallen asleep to a never ending, relentless, P90X commercial. Two hours of a P90X announcer with his smooth subliminal stimuli communicating under my threshold of conscious perception. Without being aware, I became a P90X zombie.
Now, if you don’t watch the “higher channels” of US cable programming, or have not been trapped next to a P90X zombie at a party, P90X is a workout program they sell on the idiot box. This workout program bombards you with images of normal people that look just like you using the system and within 90 days end up with washboard abs.
“Must have washboard abs” I started to chant in my sleep. The zero percent body fat “Jim Jones” leader of this cult is Tony Horton. His smooth talk and ease of explaining the process had me awake and reaching for my credit card to hold up to the screen. “Here! Take my money! All of it, just give me those abs, I must be beautiful!” I slammed my Visa against the TV screen, “Dear God, affirm me and firm me.”
I stopped. Startled awake, I found conscious standing with my face pressed against the Television. Credit cards scattered around me. Tony Horton still bouncing around on the screen explaining how his six pack is actually very easy to get. I then did what I always do in these situations. I texted Patrick of Pacspad.blogspot.com and started to convince him to do the program with me.
“Come on! I’ll do it on my side of the country, you can do it on your side of the country and it’ll be just like we’re doing it together.” Before I knew it, I was back on my bed texting away to Patrick on how groovy we were going to look in our new six packs. How we were going to walk around on some gay beach and have all the boys stare at us. Before I knew it, the infomercial that was going to change my life was done. The Forever Lazy infomercial started and Patrick and I moved on in our conversation as well.
Now, if you don’t watch the “higher channels” of US cable programming, or have not been trapped next to a P90X zombie at a party, P90X is a workout program they sell on the idiot box. This workout program bombards you with images of normal people that look just like you using the system and within 90 days end up with washboard abs.
“Must have washboard abs” I started to chant in my sleep. The zero percent body fat “Jim Jones” leader of this cult is Tony Horton. His smooth talk and ease of explaining the process had me awake and reaching for my credit card to hold up to the screen. “Here! Take my money! All of it, just give me those abs, I must be beautiful!” I slammed my Visa against the TV screen, “Dear God, affirm me and firm me.”
I stopped. Startled awake, I found conscious standing with my face pressed against the Television. Credit cards scattered around me. Tony Horton still bouncing around on the screen explaining how his six pack is actually very easy to get. I then did what I always do in these situations. I texted Patrick of Pacspad.blogspot.com and started to convince him to do the program with me.
“Come on! I’ll do it on my side of the country, you can do it on your side of the country and it’ll be just like we’re doing it together.” Before I knew it, I was back on my bed texting away to Patrick on how groovy we were going to look in our new six packs. How we were going to walk around on some gay beach and have all the boys stare at us. Before I knew it, the infomercial that was going to change my life was done. The Forever Lazy infomercial started and Patrick and I moved on in our conversation as well.
 |
| Patrick and Steve on the beach this summer. |
I have pZero-x patience to do the program.
ReplyDeleteBesides, I need the promise of hot, naked men at the gym to motivate me to work out.
I hate informercial dreams! At least yours was filled with hot, sweaty men, whereas I spent what seemed like weeks trapped in a Genie Bra nightmare. I've since unplugged the bedroom television, but I can still spot old-fashioned bras a mile away. (They're snug in all the wrong places.)
ReplyDeleteJust let me know when you're ready Stevie. I'll blow the dust off my DVD player, draw the curtains and join you as a devoted follower of Tony Horton. Even though it was his evil brother Tim who got me in this mess in the first place.
Yeah, at the gym at least you get naked men to look at in the shower and locker room :)
ReplyDeleteGuys stare at you already, Stevie
ReplyDelete