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My threes of readers will undoubtedly know that I will occasionally work out with that fine piece of “engineering” known as a bowflex.

I was working out today — attempting to sculpt my doughy, clay like form into the attractively chiseled proportions of a Greek god or a Californian governor. Imagine my surprise when straining against all reason, I felt something give with a sharp crack.

No, it wasn’t my arm or even a vessel in my brain (though those both would have made for excellent guesses). Rather, it was the white plastic that makes up the handle of the bowflex. That’s right. It turns out that I, a god amongst mere mortals, am able to shred cheaply constructed plastic with nothing more than the strength of my own desire (and one has to assume a fair amount of leverage and stress that has built up over time).

Yes my friends, Nietzsche has nothing on my own will to power. I can’t imagine what might possibly be able to stop me now (unless of course some fiend somewhere has managed to locate a few rare molecules of plastic kryptonite, my Achilles heel as it were).

So, my workout today kind of sucked. The handle was misbalanced which was throwing the weight into unpredictable and uncomfortable places. Plus, it’s remarkably tough to maintain focus and intensity when you’re mentally composing a blog entry.

I desperately need food right now.