Journal Entries: #1 and #2

Tuesday, February 1st, in the year of Our Lord 2011:

I blame Brooke for this.  She should've never watched "Heavy" on A&E, because this idea would've never come to fruition and I wouldn't have forgotten how to spell my own name in Sociology this evening.
I don't think I've ever been this exhausted in a long time. I got ZERO (this many: 0) hours of sleep because my mind wouldn't shut up about this idiotic exercise competition.  (I swear, by tomorrow, I'll be more positive about this whole thing). [A/N: At the time of this post, I'm not any more positive about this than I was yesterday].
I woke up at buttcrack o'clock (which is 6:00 a.m. in normal-people language) to go swimming.  I think I surprised Ellen (my swim partner/governor of my floor in the dorm) by crawling my ass down the hallway towards the exit.  Holy fucking monkeyballs, is it cold out that early!  God bless road crews and pedestrians (and old people who go out for walks because there aren't any good infomercials on that early in the morning).  We traversed through the HEC's newest and greatest construction [A/N: It looks like shit.  I think all they did was remodel a damn hallway.  No wonder my tuition bill freaking SHOT through the damn roof this year.  Thanks, UWSP!] and into the lockerroom, where I shed my 27 layers of protective "Fuck if I am going to freeze my pretty ass off" clothing and sprinted to the pool (I use "sprinted" lightly; I more or less shuffled like an arthritic geriatric whose walker just-so happened to be "misplaced".)
Question: why are all indoor pools at schools filled with the waters from the melting glaciers of the Arctic Circle?  Good goddamn, it was FREEZING.  I tried swimming as fast as possible to get warm, but the two huge plane-propellers that have been cleverly disguised as "fans" kept circulating air at a temperature that they keep penguins comfortable in their enclosure at a zoo.

[A/N: This next sentence is literally the only thing that is remotely important about this entire journal entry]
I swam 42 laps in roughly 45 minutes (I swam the first 10 laps in a breaststroke, then used a kickboard to swim 2 laps, then did 8 laps to keep stuff even in my mind).  Hours later, my body is screaming at me to: "PLEASE.  FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE BABY JESUSES AND FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTERS EVERYWHERE, STOP. MOVING."
Oh, and did I mention I had all but 1 of my classes today?  I'm going to go pass out on Haley's bed, while Renee Zellweger squints at me and Colin Firth says swearwords in an adorable British accent.


Wednesday, February 2nd, in the year of Our Lord 2011

What is it with gyms that play Food Network on TV?  I would've rather watched Sarah Jessica "Horse-Face" Parker getting laid by attractive men on the god-awful "Sex and the City" just four TV's down from me than the unholy duo of Food Network and the Travel Channel, which at the time was showing "Man vs. Food". [A/N: I LOVE "MAN VS. FOOD"] I think I fantasized about swimming in a vat of doughnut glaze with a life-preserver made out of bacon and doughnut-holes while I worked out. 
Oh, and at apparently 2:00 p.m., if you currently have (or are seriously contemplating getting life-altering surgery) a vagina, you MUST flock your skinny ass to the Allen Center!  Oh!  And don't forget, ladies: we're supposed to "glisten"!  Apparently I never received that particular memo, because I looked like a coach of a victorious football team who overturned the Gatorade cooler on me when I finally stumbled off the treadmill.
My entire lower half of my body [A/N: At the time of writing this post, you may freely add the words "nay, my entire body"] is killing me, but I am committed to watching Brooke buy me ice cream at the end of the month.  I have even favorited Coldstone Creamery on the Internet so I can figure out exactly what I want on that glorious day.
I've decided to repeal the amendment to the contract about 15-minute intervals are worth 1/2 a point, because my brain is too stupid to figure out simple god damn math to see how many stars I'll be getting at the end of the day, since I didn't go a full hour and only went 45 minutes yesterday morning (current total: 3. SUCK IT, BROOKE!)
Tomorrow morning, I'm off to the pool again for yet another flash-freezing.

I. Can't. Wait.