Speed Bumps are the Devil's Spawn

I drive a Miata, no I'm not gay. Or old. Or a woman. It is not lowered or pimped out and it seems like at least once a week, the owner of some parking lot or the department of transportation decides my oil pan would work better if it weren't attached to my car.

Whomever invented the speed bump needs to be shot, keel hauled, drawn and quartered, and then killed. If they are already dead, then I will go dig them up and then run them over with my car a few times, to see how effective of a speed bump they would make.

First off let's analyze the speed bump. It is designed to make you slow down so that you don't run over some retired bed wetter shambling out of walmart after Senior Savings day. Apparently we are fully expected to see a low lying road colored object with faded yellow stripes and slow down for it, but Soccer Mom Sally and her gaggle of dirty little rug rats wearing bright yellow pokemon shirts is invisible to us and we would careen into them at 80.

Plus assuming you are too busy trying to blow yourself that you run into said speedbump at triple digit speeds you will probably cause more harm then otherwise when you catapult yourself into the nearest nunnery/explosives factory.

Even if you aren't ripping your oil pan off on speedbumps or using them as launch ramps, they still have deadly consequences. First off they are destroying the planet. Imagine how much CO2 is being expelled from all the slowing down and then accelerating after a bump. They are also killing people in desperate need of medical attention. Imagine you just fell down and broke your back after trying to install your new sex swing in the ceiling before your Shaquita comes over for movie night. Do you really want the ambulance to have to take a 2 hour detour so that you don't suffer irreparable nerve damage from riding over the 312 speed bumps between your house and Grady Memorial? I think not.

So next time you're faced by a speed bump look for a small child to run over instead, because apparently we don't know the difference.

Get off the Damn Treadmill

I just had a friend ask me about fitness so I figured I would kick off my blog with a little bit about exercise.

Picture your average joe who just got pumped watching the latest Oprah episode on obese siamese sex slaves. He goes to the gym to get ripped so he jumps on the treadmill and pounds away for an hour burning 600 calories. Then dripping sweat he goes over to the on site juice bar and orders up a large frizzy strawberry latte smoothie to replenish his glycogen stores or whatever and gulps down about 800 calories. Confident in his newfound physique Joe heads to the beach to show off his nonexistant abs and spindly arms and wonders why all the girlies aren't rushing over to feel his bulging guns. Joe is about 6', 190 lbs and about 25% body fat, and he gets tired when he's carrying his case of coors light up to his second floor apartment.

I have seen way too many d-bags in my life like this and you know what, it is not his fault. There is so much misinformation out there about fitness, it is no wonder we are as a nation fatter than ever. (hint= every ad you have ever seen on tv selling an exercise machine is a total crock, except for maybe the bowflex, it's just overpriced)

Everyone repeat after me, I will stop doing long steady state cardio thinking it is going to give me a six pack. Unless you're ideal body type is the guy on the left you are better off doing heavy weight lifting and interval training like sprints.

It all boils down to slow and fast twitch muscle fibers. Fast twitch have a far greater ability to grow than slow twitch and how do you get them to grow. PUSH Them HARD.

Ok, second example. Bobby Six Pack goes to the gym, lifts big heavy weights doing these weird caveman exercises like squats and deadlifts. He does actual pullups, and the only reason he ever goes near the peck deck is because that is where the 45 pound plates are stored. He never has to wait because everyone is busy on the left buttcheek isolation machine and the squat rack is totally empty. He never does long runs or situps, and he busts out of the gym about 45 minutes later. He only has to do this 3 days a week, and doesn't get tired when carrying a playboy bunny draped over each arm up to his 80th story penthouse. Oh yeah Bobby is about 6' ,190 lbs and about 8 % body fat.

So next time you're watching 300 and are getting pumped from all the blood and half naked men and homoeroticism, leave the running shoes at home and go lift some damn iron.