22 men drug their Q up and down an awful hill this morning for this weeks edition of HorseyMcHorseArse. There was sweating and lurching and lots of snotboogers flying. My spleen shot out of my ear at one point, but Baracus picked it up for me. Some walked, a few may have crawled, but everybody kept moving.
I had planned out another workout where we all starfished from the flag pole and met back in the middle for high fives and attaboys. On the way over, something didn’t feel right. Could we? Should we? Would we? Why don’t we? We’ll let the pax decide. Without hesitation, they chose option B – infinite repeats to the top of Mt. Horsey. #Purity. Spooky Jon pulled a #LeeroyJenkins and nearly ran me over. The remaining troops followed suit, with the big man Hoover running security detail in the rear for us.
Lots of encouragement during this workout. I tried to write down some of the things the guys shouted over to me, but the notepad got sweaty and then I had to eat it to survive. Here’s what I remember.
I couldn’t quite make out several more, including some hand gestures, but it really touched me, you know.
It’s probably gonna be a while before I do that again. I’d rather just walk on legos. I’ve got one of those fancy standing desks at work, but it ain’t happening today. Folks stick their head in my office and see me hunkered down at this thing and probably think I’m just a lazy slob who wasted money on this desk. They don’t know what we know . . . Maybe I’ll tell them, maybe I won’t . They probably wouldn’t believe it anyway.
It’s hard to get a grip on this crazy place. The entire workout feels like a giant Scooby Doo chase scene, with zombies and the Miner Forty-Niner running around opening and closing endless doors in a hallway. I’d like to get the BBC film crew out there and see if we can get Sir David Attenborough to narrate this thing.
You know who named this workout? It wasn’t me. There once was a man named Tiger Rag who used to frolic among our midst. He came and he went, but he always was. One day, he went away and never came back. I think he got snagged. This morning, we sent team Free Range over to Chester’s for an attempted rescue operation. This whole workout was just a diversion to keep the guys away while they dropped in with Seal Team 8 (well, it was really just Frasier with a nerf gun but he had on a black hoodie) . Anyway, they found them sitting there with some guy named Mark listening to KLove and playing Monopoly. TR had a hotel on Marvin Gardens and Atlantic, but didn’t have the cash for Ventnor yet. I could tell that it bothered him. He wouldn’t let it go and they were playing house rules with a big wad of cash sitting on Free Parking, so they had to leave him there and just let out the other hostages in the basement.
Gotta run. I’m developing a new iPhone app that goes live today. It can tell your age by listening to you pee. It’s a somewhat complex algorithm of starts/stops, drips, and curse words. It has me down as 75, but we have a few bugs to work out.
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