The Winning Edge

Previously I have mentioned that at times life can be somewhat trying here in the land of the alledgely rising sun. Lately there has been little/no evidence of this occuring since its been pissing down for ages. Anyways, never is the daily grind more painful than during the morning sprint to work. I have to change train lines (and also stations) on my way and am usually in a ridiculous/hang-over/overslept rush/rampage. I don't know what it is that makes Japanese people so fucking fit but I feel like a wounded goat being trampled by a horde of wilderbeast. The same thing happens at the gym too. I've taken quite a shining to the countless rows of exercise bikes there probably because that is wear the oldies hang out. Still, when I look at the speed they are riding it is always higher than mine which is a constant 6 out of 12 and they are usually about 8. Fuckers. Also when I am riding/dying my bike's little red light thing often flashes. I found out that means my heart rate has left the "aerobically effective" zone and moved into the "dangerously close to a mid-twenties heart-attack" zone. And the grannies are totally into doing the aerobics classes. Sounds uneventful right? Wrong. All of the classes are run superfly J-chicks/fags who are currently going through the "hip-hop is a valid form of exercise" phase of their lycra-clad modern lives. The result is this: 3 homos, 12 school girls, and 50 old women and men "dancing" like Paris Hilton to totally innapropriate ghetto music. It's awesome. And since standing out in a crowd is not really the done thing here, they are all in perfect J-Lo time. I need to secretly film them. It's the kind of ghetto-hot that makes you want to join a gang and car-jack people. Word.