Yet Another Weekend Gone

And now it just a Monday....'Round Midnight

After watching the travesty that was Brett Favre and the Minnesota Vikings' 28-31 loss on Sunday night, it was a difficult thing to drive all the way back home from downtown Chicago just to force myself to do some exercise. I was scheduled to start my second "real" full week of P90X. In a display of raw anger and frustration, I nearly ran some poor woman in a minivan off the road for refusing to surrender the left lane to me as I came speeding up behind her. It was her own damn fault for being on the road while angry-LB was driving. Especially on the lawless Chicagoland highways.

I was in a bad mood, but it no longer mattered that Brett Farve threw a last second interception at the end of regulation. It didn't matter that three calls in overtime, if called in favor of the Vikings, would not have been overturned by replay. It just so happened that all calls went in favor of the Saints. All of them...along with a completely horseshit pass interference call. The fact that I had to listen to Troy Aikman flapping his stupid bitch face for three hours was just more shit icing on a shitty shitty shit cake. The only thing that mattered on my drive home was preparing myself to get back to work. X-Style!












Ugh.

I was due for a session of Chest/Back, followed by "Ab-ripper X". I handled the upper body stuff fairly well, but I think I'm going to find a replacement workout for the ab disc. My lower back doesn't seem to be getting strong enough, quickly enough to handle the 300 some-odd moves that are covered in those 15 nonstop minutes. I just end up writhing around on the floor in pain clutching my back after the first 10 minutes.












It's doubly painful because after an hour of push-ups, pull-ups, and free-weight moves, it's hard to use my arms to do something as simple as leaning backward to support the weight of my torso. Which is needed to perform moves like "bicycle", the 'ol "In Out", and even "crunchy frog". Fuck, by the time I went to bed, it was hard just to find the strength to roll my body over.

I had a few low calorie/carb Budweiser Selects during the game on Sunday, but I didn't use it as an excuse. I used all the damn willpower I could muster up and I completed the day's activities.
















The day before, Saturday, I went downtown to hang out with Master P. We drank a little Whiskey, Guinness, and Buds along with some spicy-crunchy-greasy chicken wings. You can take your guess as to which one of those, or which combination, woke me up in the middle of the night so I could throw it all back up into the porcelain coffer. It was my first real foray back into relaxing with a little junk food and alcohol, and my body made it clear that I was no longer in junk food shape.

Maybe I should start drinking red wine. It might create a sort of balance between my extremes of drunkenness and sobriety...and it's good for the heart, right?

Plyometrics kicked my ass today, and I'm still sore from yesterday's workout, but nothing compares to the sting of that terrible Vikings loss. How the fuck could they fumble so many times!?

Shrimp (shelled/deveined by my hand), cooked in white wine, soy sauce, & pepper broth, dipped in a simple Sweet n Sour/Hot Mustard Sauce.













Grilled turkey patty, light swiss cheese, and a tomato.