Update

Jim here. Nothing all that new going on. But maybe I can keep Mary at bay by posting some of the nothingness that I take shit for not posting.

Well, that may be short-selling it. Matt and I started taking a P90X class at the gym twice a week. It is helping us to meet housewives and sweat liquor out of our pores. Other than the class, we are still keeping our usual routine at the gym, although we really need to start hitting the pool more often (primarily so that I can tell Adam to go fuck himself).

I recently got an Ipod for the sole purpose of setting it up with the Nike+ system. Kind of like an speedometer/odometer on your car, it tells you how fast and how far you have run. You install this sensor on your shoe and then like magic (or like physics or something) you have a voice in your ear telling you your pace and your milage. I don't know how it works, it's not a pedometer and I think that gnomes might have been involved in it's creation. Anyone that can explain it to my satisfaction gets a Team Bad Ass prize.
 
There are a ton of options that I have yet to play around with, but it lets you program a Power Song that will play if you drop below your pace. Mine is currently set to "Through the Fire and the Flames" by DragonForce. Tried it out today with a 45 minute run at the gym, it required virtually no setup and it seems to be very accurate.

Maybe I can retire the old mp3 player. Hey, Matt, you're getting a present! Seriously, the guy still has a Sony Walkman that plays cassette tapes. He runs around with giant earphones listening to a worn out J. Geils Band tape. Makes us look bad.

On another note, other people need to stay the fuck out of the gym. Lately, the gym has been busier than fire-eater with a paper asshole. Every jerkoff with a New Year's resolution has now become an impediment to me fulfilling my goals.

Oh, you want to ride the exercise bike? Too bad, some fatass in poorly-fitting stretchpants is already sitting on it, barely pedaling and reading Redbook.

You want to log some laps on the track? You had best be prepared to swerve in between the Holsteins and Heifers that don't understand that their near-Volkswagon size creates an obstacle akin to a rhinosaurus on the expressway.

And who the fuck takes the elevator and then gets on the step-machine?

I am strongly considering investing in an Old Country Buffet franchise and setting up shop in the parking lot just to alleviate the crowd in the gym. A more cost-effective solution might be a series of signs that read "Free Ham for Fatties" and have an arrow that points away from the gym entrance. Anyway, food for thought (get it?).

Oh, TBA merchandise is in the works. There is talk of a calendar, though I may just repackage an English Sheepdog calendar and tell people it's Matt. The similarities are frightening. Stay tuned for details.

Jim out!