Here's a tough thing to admit: The other day, I actually strained my neck while yawning. Go back and read that again. Yeah, you weren't seeing things. Strained. My. Neck. While. YAWNING. Good grief, seriously?!? Am I just getting old? I'm only 42. It's not like I'm completely inactive. Anyone who's been to a Gobshites show knows I move around plenty, either up front dancing or behind the drum kit wailing away on the skins. And I was hitting the gym pretty regularly at work for a while there, until the building management ended up leasing out the rest of the floors, so getting to use the machine you want is kind of a pain in the ass these days. I did just get an offer to sign up at a gym near me, and I'm seriously considering that. I've been there before, and I really like the place. And ten bucks a month is a pretty sweet deal.
I've said it before, I actually like working out. The whole feeling of release and exhaustion after a good workout is very satisfying, not to mention the whole endorphin rush thing. The issue with me, given my distractability, is my difficulty in getting back into the routine after it's been interrupted. But I know I have to keep up the pressure on myself, because flabby ain't sexy, and it's really embarrassing to have to tell the ER nurse that you hurt yourself while turning over in your sleep. If one's body is one's temple, mine is definitely leaning towards Buddhist.
And it's Friday, so it's music blog day too. I'd have to say that Street Dogs, despite my schoolgirl crush on Stiff Little Fingers, arguably had the best set of anyone at Shamrock-N-Roll last Saturday. They're coming back to Boston in December for "Wreck the Halls," and I'm pretty sure we've already got our tickets.
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