The Daily Derenger

8/28/2002

I have written a few posts about the Gazelle in my mom's house. It's the fitness kind and not the wild animal that serves as dinner for some wild dogs. I can't help but writing about this thing since the infomercials are on 34 channels 56 hours a day. And rightly so since this stupid apparatus will be obsolete within a few months. There are no AbRoller nor NordicTrack commercials anymore. The window of opportunity for Tony Little and his Gazelle is now. He must hurry or he and the Gazelle will get stuck when the window closes and they will both fall prey to wild dogs and infuriated, fat customers.

My views on the Gazelle have been many. Here is a new one. I originally wrote that Tony Little pushes the Gazelle when he clearly knows he didn't get in shape using the Gazelle. It's a kind of false advertising. Like Milli Vanilli without the Behind the Music credit. Having watched that episode just a few hours ago, I can say that, like Rob and Fab, Little wears spandex in public and has hair longer than most women. If he would just come clean with his work out regiment, we would have him pinned as a phony too. Until then, Little should be forced to listen to the real recordings of Rob and Fab. That would make anyone tell the truth.

The truth behind the Gazelle is that Little didn't get in shape from using it nor from using Chuck Norris' invention. Little got in shape from running. A lot. He ran from all his weight lifting buddies at the gym when they found out about the Gazelle. "All these years of bench presses and squats and you give credit to some stupid animal-named machine," yelled Stoney, a former Marine and current third-shift forklift operator. "Wait 'til dead-lift Dutch hears about you and the Gazelle. He's gonna beat your ass. Then he'll pull off those faggotty shorts and show your fans the real reason your name is "Little."

They are running Behind the Music marathons celebrating the show's 5th anniversary. I'll bet that Tony Little will appear on a commerical or two while MC Hammer's story runs. I hope Hammer will lend Little some parachute pants at least.

8/27/2002

I began today in a way unlike any other in recent memory. I went for a jog. Word has it that if you do some cardio exercise first thing in the morning before eating anything, you burn 300% more fat than any other time. Some people will eat something and then go to the gym and run or do aerobics. That's great, but you are first burning the food you ate and not any fat. Just something to try sometime.

I last ran about a month ago up in Minneapolis. That was meant to be the beginning of my "getting in tip top shape" lifestyle. It was the beginning ... and the end. I guess a few sit-up and push-up sessions have made an appearance since then but the running has ceased.

I'm in Tulsa all week and what better way to see the sights than with a run. Or so I thought. The house the comics call home isn't near much of anything. That can be a good or a bad thing when going for a jog. Good in that you'll keep running as long as you don't recognize the sites. That gets me bored easily, running the same path too much. It could be bad 'cause you may get lost, exert too much energy and get sick.

Now Tulsa, Oklahoma is right in the middle of America. It's all flatland in what is almost the southwest but still kind of the midwest. No hills or tough amateur-running areas to worry about in Tulsa, right? Wrong. I hit my first hill about seven minutes into my jog. As much as I wanted to push myself and get back into shape, I knew I would overdo it by going too hard too soon. Then I thought why in the hell am I trying to get into shape in the first place? I'm a comic. I'm suppose to drink beer, be fat, and stay out of shape. Look at some of the greats like John Belushi, Chris Farley, John Candy and Sam Kinison. They were rich, funny and fat. And they all died way too young. So I began running again. It would be my luck, though, that I'd get hit by a drunk driver at 10am and think to myself, as I was nearing the pearly gates, 'I should've been in that truck instead of running by it and I'd only be hung over right now'. Kind of morbid I guess.

I'm sure my body hates the fact that I try to get into shape every few months. The muscles and tendons get all riled up, talking shit from within me. "What in the hell is he doing??" says the thigh muscle to the hamstring. "Doesn't he know it's early and we haven't eaten yet?" rattles the left calf. The butt chimes in, since it takes the brunt of any movement, whether it be from sitting or running. "You guys know he does this every couple of months. As soon as he hits that first hill all the running will turn into a leisurely walk. And you guys can go back to bed and give hell to the shoulders and chest when he starts doing push-ups for a week".

I've got four more days here in Tulsa. Since I'm broke as hell, I'll need to find something cheap to do with my time. There will be more tendon-talk and muscle-mutter in the near future installments of the Daily Derenger. Stay tuned.