don't become a boxer..

this is taken from one of those email surveys that i did a while back but received positive comments on so i'm posting it here.. it's about me and my roommate Josh attending a boxing gym for the first night.. enjoy..


a couple weeks before we start:

Josh: "Dan, do you want to join a boxing gym with me?"
Me: hahahaha
Josh: "girls are more sexually attracted to guys who are in shape"
Me: "when does it start and will they give us flavored condoms?"

first night (times are estimates, keep in mind that this is Week 3 of the actual class, and our first night):

7:00 p.m. - we start out with the trainers telling us to grab a set of dumbbells, my cat-like quickness enables me to nab the 5's.. i talk trash to the other people silently..

7:10 p.m. - Warm-ups including stretching and lifting and bending and groin-pulling... thoughts running through my head: "seriously, are we just warming up right now??" "this girl next to me could tear my beanbag off barehanded, yikes" "when does ballet start?" "my labia hurt"..

7:15 p.m. - thoughts running through my head: "are we in the right gym? it said St. Cloud Downtown Boxing Gym on the sign, not Oscar De La Hoya's Olympic Boxing Training on the sign, right?" "i don't want to breathe anymore" "what exactly did that waiver say? i hope they have my parents phone number in case of an emergency"....

me and my boy parts have a disagreement about whether or not sex is this important...

Me: "i think i'll get girls just by using my personality"
Josh: "when's the last time you touched a vagina?"
Me (half jokingly): "does being born count?" (fuck, he put me in a box there)

7:25 p.m. - we haven't moved further than 2 feet in any direction, yet we are laying in a pool of our own sweat... are we being Punk'd??

7:30 p.m. - cool, a jump rope!! 12 year-old girls can do this...

7:32 p.m. - Dan can't... Josh, it's your turn, i think there's a sale on purses at Penney's that i need to get to.. by the way, i'm kidnapping your first-born child and brain-washing them to hate you..

7:40 p.m. - we begin to run up and down stairs.. not only do we do that, but when we reach the bottom of the stairs, we run around a circle and a fat slob hits us in our stomach with a boxing glove while yelling at us and probably eating nachos..

my thoughts after getting hit the first time: "wow, that really sucked... maybe i just need to clench my abs more the next time... or change my tampon"..

my thoughts after getting hit the second time: "wow, that sucked just as much if not more than the first one, where is the nearest bench?? my pancreas tastes funny and i need someone to help me straighten out my spinal cord"...

Josh walks over to me after his 3rd time getting assaulted..

Me: "are you fucking kidding me right now?"
Josh: "done"
Me: "wait, help me take my sports bra off"

7:45 p.m. - up the stairs, to the dressing room, out the back exit.. driving home is harder than Chinese algebra, every muscle is sore already.. now i know why boxers can't speak English, they're fucking retarded... and that's my 45-minute "boxing career"... the boxing heavy bag in the garage is so much easier to deal with..