Know how to Bullshit …

These were one of the first words our Journalism lecturer uttered to us bright eyed, raring to go Journalism enthusiasts when we joined University.

“A good journalist can bullshit about anything”, he blasted over the microphone in the cavernous lecture hall as we sat there gawking at how someone in a “teacher’s” position could so easily swear in a mock classroom. I know, I know, boy did we have some catching up to do on reality!

Anyway, this story (although pretty pointless as well) has nothing to do with my wild and unrestrained journalism days (let me live the fantasy okay?).

I decided to put this theory to test with my gym instructor after hours of targeted researching on the net over the weekend (basically just bumming around really) on how exercising is really and truly detrimental to my health. Turns out my gym instructor, in addition to being allergic to sanity, happiness, content taste buds and a well rested skeletal structure (just to mention a few) is also highly allergic to apparent, well researched “bullshit”.

Either that, or I’m not as good a journalist as I think -_-

I need a Fix for my “fix”

I’m broken. I’m sure of it. It can be the only explanation for putting myself through the torturous ordeal of working out on a daily basis.

Apparently, pesky little endorphins are to blame, those minute satanic blips in my body that decided to pop out of nowhere, without any warning or requests for permissions to be present that I have unknowingly become addicted to.

So will someone please provide me with a fix for my fix? Of all the vices, who knew I would choose the treadmill for my drug of choice? That’s just lame -_-

Personal Trainers are Satan’s minions

I told my personal trainer friend that “her people” (by this I mean Satan’s minions) were wrong when they said exercise was good for my body. I mean, the age-old adage of everything in moderation had to be true for all of life’s twists and turns otherwise my whole perspective on the world would have to be blown to smithereens right there and then.

My friend told me to elaborate and though I was acutely aware of walking smack bang into the middle of a mine field, apparently endorphins do shite for your brain cells which is extremely lethal for someone with my um well, limited brain capacity – but enough about me.

I told her that I was feeling pain in body parts that I was pretty sure didn’t exist in the species I have been led to believe I belong to since I popped out of my mother’s womb and how I was going to write to my local council and state that anyone who exercises a fellow human being to start “feeling” these body parts should be extradited (to hell presumably) immediately.

Now I know what you’re thinking, how dumb am I? For your kind information, my friend’s smirk did set warning bells clambering up my spine and though I did attempt to run in the opposite direction, the dumbbells she had attached to my ankles blocked my noble retreat and she politely asked (with a skipping rope in her hand that she had sinisterly changed into a makeshift whip that would put Spartacus to shame) that I drop and give her twenty.

Suffice to say I escaped with my life just to recount this story to you for witness purposes on the event of my untimely death. Got to go, she’s back …

You know how they say you never forget how to ride a bike? Well …

… I thought I’d try this very theory with my supposed creative inspiration for my immensely shameful lack of writing ideas the past few days, so I sat in front of my computer and randomly tapped my keyboard frantically begging for a reprieve. This is what I came up with:

“kjewnfkeagjaoirej ;aaeoig a;orijgajkfng afv ;oairdjg akdrjg akrdjv ;ardgvhaknsemfd asdgvkj ajkdsghakesjgnjkasef ESUF ADSUKHGKADSJ AKSDJ Kkjs vkfj fvkjdafh akfdj ksfdjng ksdjnvkajwaov dvzj kdfzv”

As I fear plagiarism attacks against me, I’ve decided only to post a snippet of my wonderful work. As you can see, the metaphor is completely false, just because you once knew how to ride a bike, it doesn’t necessarily infer you won’t crash and burn down the line. Guess it’s back to the drawing board for me!

Show you care …

Because sharing is caring, I was hoping that you guys could share the calories I picked up along the way from that scrumptious peanut coated Cornetto I just finished, so I don’t have to layer up in this freezing cold to jog around the block?

Oh come on, show me you care already!

To shower you with my gratitude, I’ll even treat my body to another one. Caramel fudge anyone?

It’s my Birthday, It’s my Birthday – I’mma spend my money

I’ve been humming this tune for a couple of days now, the nerve cells in my skull angrily protesting at the inkling I was having all through the “stuck in my head” tune – it sounds Indian?

Yesterday, while I was wasting away into a mass of protoplasm on the cross trainer at my local gym, I was thankful for my mind being unable to focus on sucking my abs in via alien proportions when recognition finally struck as the Will.I.Am feat. Cody Wise tune blasted from my communal television set. I know this song.

So naturally, I decided to put my well-honed research skills to the test with an extensive and intensive, thought out blueprint of how I was going to find out the name, which naturally commenced and concluded at Wikipedia and Eureka! It’s from a popular Tamil (South Indian cinema) movie, Kadhalan I used to listen to as a child.

I recall with fond memories (not so much for my parents) dancing to the catchy tune, and how my sister and I revelled in our chance to touch base with home.

The song (and movie) starred “jhatka” oriented Prabhu Deva (loose English translation – damn, he got da moves) and was written by India’s favourite Maestro – A.R. Rahman, Suresh Peters and Shahul Hameed.

For those of you who are game, check out the original here 🙂

A.R. Rahman ji, you rock!

My spin instructor told me this morning that she’s after my soul!

If I had any lingering doubts before, they were finally eradicated. She’s definitely the Devil But, it turned out that she was actually talking about my sole, so now I feel stupid. And paranoid -_-

I still think she’s the Devil though.