No Rules

This morning, Professor Sousa and I were able to get up and out the door, with the baby dropped off at her grandparents' house, in time to make it to the gym for a morning workout.

It's nice to incorporate these things into a family routine, you know.

So anyway, of course, we're doing the Planet Fitness PF Express 30 Minute Workout (it's the 2nd-to-last picture in the slideshow) when this woman--let's call her "Frumpy McHerpes-Lip" because of her workout gear (a sweater with an ironed-on kitty cat that would make Dolores Umbridge pee herself in envy) and the open sore on her mouth--went right to the ab station in front of the cardio step Ashley was doing. So that we had to wait for this dumbass to finish violating Planet Fitness policy before we could move on to our next station. At least the older lady wearing a "Jesus puts a Song in My Heart"--as if that gives carte blanche to just violate any old rules she wants to--had the courtesy to use machines that we'd already used.

"It's like Outback Steakhouse up in here," the Professor whispered, in her sexiest, snark-laden tone.

At first I thought she was referring to the fact that the two ladies looked like the type of women who would eat at Outback Steakhouse after Church on Sundays. She must have intuited this response, because then she said, "What's Outback's slogan?"

"Oh yeah. 'No rules, Just right?'" (Apparently now it's "Crave On." Because fat people in this country need to be encouraged to gorge themselves on Bloomin' Onions and ranch dressing. I know I do.)

"Yup."

So anyway, the lady either heard us ridiculing us through the Celine Dion blasting through her ear buds and was appropriately chastised, or she's just a half-assed worker outer, because she got up and left and we were able to finish our program with only the barest interruption.

Have a great day.