All images are from the Pinup RDJ blog, which the artist delightfully explains thusly: “Vintage pinups are the pinnacle of art. Robert Downey Jr is the pinnacle of sexy. It’s not rocket science.”
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Shoe pants. (Shpants? Poos?) Brilliant. If you keep the laces going up, you could use them like suspenders thereby completing the trifecta of cool.
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This is as close as I’ll ever get to being a hot chick in a hot tub.
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Well hello there! Fancy meeting you at this park. Don’t worry I have lots of random fitness equipment to show you. No that’s not a euphemism and no I’m not trying to sell you any of it. Although this post is, apparently, sponsored by Subway. (Which is a bummer because Subway irritates me on two fronts: Jared, their spokesman who only proves you can lose a ton of weight by eating a verrry limited diet and also, how can anyone eat a normal sub after having one toasted with guacamole? Mmm… Quiznos!)
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Okay, so there’s one thing I wouldn’t eat. Any food that requires a c-section to eat is off my list.
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Today I experienced one of those weird occurrences that have baffled me ever since I seriously got into fitness – call it the Bermuda Triangle of Exercise, if you will. Just like Amelia Earhart – but less heroic and revolutionary and without the rubber helmet (just what exactly was that supposed to protect you from anyhow?) – today I awoke to a morning just like every other morning, not knowing that by the end of the day I’d be in the grip of a natural phenomenon that science is at a loss to describe. CrossFitters, with their characteristic understatement, have taken to calling what happened to me today “a metabolic reaction.”
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Somehow I think tight denim is the least of his worries.
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Baffling equipment. Mean girls. Chronic cell-phone chatters. Unidentified puddles of bodily fluids. Germs. Old men on the exercise bike in nothing but tighty whities and black dress socks (true story). There are lots of reasons why people avoid the gym. Frankly, there are probably more reasons to skip the gym than to go. (Thankfully the reasons to go are much more compelling for me than those to skip it!) So when I got this e-mail from Reader M, I was simultaneously irritated – not by her! – and sympathetic:
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I’m running away to join the circus. You will forgive my impending abuse of hyperbolic punctuation, then: OHMYGOSH YOU GUYS I HAD SOOOOO MUCH FUN!!!!!!
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I said I’d never do it. (Of course, I also said I wasn’t blogging anymore and apparently that means a one-month hiatus to my chatty self. I’m baaack. I don’t know how frequently but I have to have somewhere to post the pictures you KNOW I’m going to take during my CIRCUS AERIAL CLASS next Tuesday!!) “It’s too cold,” I said. “It’s too naked,” I said. “I don’t want to do an Experiment that requires aggressive bikini-line maintenance,” I said. And before your mind goes to poles and lucite heels, I also said, “I hate breathing in that layer of wet chlorinated air and having to do my hair and having my skin dry out and…” I whine a lot.
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