Saturday, February 24, 2007
I recently bought a Tony Little Gazelle because my exercise bike named Melissa sort of shit the bed on me. I bought the Gazelle because it was $30 cheaper than the next cheapest cardio equipment that I could find. I also figured that I would try something other than the usual recumbent bikes that I have been using for the past 7 years. After using the Tony Little Gazelle every morning for the past week, I have realized that I am in the upper epsilon of those with superior cardiovascular fitness. I am able to swing my legs on the Gazelle for an hour at a time without even becoming winded or breaking a sweat. I am sarcastically calling the Tony Little Gazelle a piece of shit. I sweat and run out of breath faster when I am eating a candy bar as compared to using a Gazelle. I’m not that pissed off about it though. It was only $80 and it is kind of fun despite the fact that it’s basically useless. I can hear my T.V. when I’m using it, and that’s nice. I’ve had 4 or 5 different exercise bikes over the years and I have named every one of them Melissa, named after a girl that I worshipped from afar in high school. I name my exercise equipment because it helps me to become more familiar and comfortable with something that I force myself out of bed to ride every morning. I refuse to give my Tony Little Gazelle the same name as my other exercise bikes because it doesn’t deserve such a fine name like Melissa. Instead I have chosen to name it Joe Montana. So every morning I force myself out of bed at the crack of 10am, and then I spend 30-60 minutes swinging my legs with Joe Montana. Then I lift weights for an hour later in the day or at night. In summary, the Gazelle is a waste of time, but if you are a cheese inhaling fat ass that hates exercising then maybe it would be good for you. It is pretty interesting to use and it can make you feel like you are actually doing something even though you’re just swinging your feet around. I’m also saying that I would like to challenge Tony Little to a fight. That son of a bitch owes me a Dave and Buster’s arcade charge card worth $18.75, and I’m getting pretty god damn tired of hearing his lame ass excuses. So hear this Tony, you are a slimy two-timing cock bobber that needs a good swift kick to the dick, and I’ve got my soccer shoes on. You G.D.M.F.S.O.B.!!! I’m coming for you Tony Little!