Don't Worry, Joel's Gonna Carry Everything For Us

As of last week, Joel still had not registered for the Spartan Race at Citi Field (he still hasn't), so we asked you if you felt that he'd eventually get around to registering or if we were just fantasizing. 3 of you felt that he would, citing that he loved us like a fat kid loves cake. Well, let us enlighten you. Joel isn't the fat one here. We are. WE eat cake. Joel eats protein bars and pansy bitches like us for breakfast. Afterwards, he burps and tell us, "don't be scared. We're a team. We're in this together. No hero sh*t." We don't even know what that means, unless you're talking about a sandwich. Do we look like f*cking heroes to you??? We might run around wearing super hero capes a lot, but that doesn't make us heroic. It makes 5-year old frittadas. 2 of you think that he bamboozled us. We think there's a very good chance that he has too.

We felt compelled to research what we might expect from a stadium Spartan Race. We Googled last year's Fenway Park race. What we found did not make us feel confident in our ability to survive. Behold the nightmare for yourself. The only positive part of this video that we took away was the soundtrack. If they play this music for us at Citi Field, we can at least die laughing. Laughing the laugh of crazy people. Crazy people who just f*cking love burpees. We discussed this video in great length:
Lisa: Holy sh*t, they are climbing over tables and sh*t!
Serena: That doesn't scare me.
Lisa: Look at those water jugs they're carrying!
Serena: Joel's gonna carry all that for us.
Lisa: Thank god! I'd feel a lot better about this if he was registered already.
...
Lisa: Oh, god! All those stairs! Our thighs are gonna be burning!
Serena: I can handle stairs. After the Damon Runyon race, I'm not scared of stairs.
Lisa: WALLS! Look at all of those walls!
Serena: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Lisa: I am going to proceed with my funeral arrangements.
...
Lisa: If we still have a pulse after this, we should drink.
Serena: Lisa, if we finish this, there's gonna be a party for us. And Joel's going to be our designated driver because this is all his fault!

Serena sent this link to Joel, who laughed in the face of danger. Apparently, he's a burly man like the kind you find in the wilderness of Canada. You can find his photo on the cover of your paper towels wearing a flannel shirt. Or on the label of your maple syrup bottle chopping wood.

Serena briefly talked about wearing a lapel camera for our race, but we figured it would basically consist of this:
*Joel's back as he runs ahead of us and completes every obstacle with the ease of a Middle Earth elf.
*Serena's heavy breathing as she exerts herself with each stupid burpee and staircase (and develops minor panic attacks at each wall approach).
*An occasional turnaround to make sure Lisa hasn't gone into cardiac arrest...or died.

This week in training has taught us one thing: We are p*ssies. We aren't strong, bad a$$ chicks like we thought we were. We're punk bitches. Serena was out-performed on the assisted pullup machine by an obese man the other night and Lisa was only able to do 10 half-assed burpees. Not full, "Spartan" burpees. Half-assed bitch ones. Which means she probably can't even do one legit "Spartan" burpee. We could try and SEE if we could, but there's a strong reason to believe that we're setting ourselves up for failure. We'll video it for you and upload it next week if you really want to see it. We'll call it the different stages of burpees: Bitch Burpee, Midway Burpee, Spartan Burpee, and lastly, OUR Burpee.

Yesterday, we spent an entire afternoon bitching and moaning about how stuck up and snotty Lululemon chicks were. We would "never spend that kind of money on pants that our crotches sweat in." Yet...we found ourselves checking out the Lululemon Yoga Bowl at the Nassau Coliseum regardless of our sarcasm and skepticism.

 

 

Neither of us had ever owned an article of clothing from Lulu, so we had no idea what size we were in anything. We picked up random pieces from assorted size piles and brought them into the dressing room. The dressing room was the worst part. It was a curtained off room that was crowded with half- naked women trying on various Lulu outfits. It was horrible. We huddled in the corner like rape victims and tried to cover up our bits and pieces as much as possible as we quickly tried on and removed our different articles of clothing.

Despite our anti-Lululemon attitudes and best intentions, we ended up leaving the warehouse sale with shopping bags of goodies. We both bought the cutest pair of teal cropped pants and cream super duper soft sweatshirts. Lisa's is off-the-shoulder with little thumb holes and Serena's is a cropped hoodie that shows off too much of her belly, but as we said, it's super duper soft, so who cares? In addition to our creepy matching yoga outfits, Lisa bought a black flowy fun tank and Serena bought a purple halter yoga top and the most outrageous neon blue pants in the history of blue pants. How fun is the shopping bag?

Can you tell which TBB is which? Probably not, since you can't even answer our quiz correctly.

As you can see, like total jack-a-loons, we tried on our stupid outfits as soon as we got done shopping. Then we danced around Serena's apartment while singing the song from Flashdance.

 



Baseball Notes:
In New York news, besides the fact that Joel has yet to register for the Spartan Race, the Mets have agreed to a 1-year deal with P Shaun Marcum for $4 million and the Yankees signed DH Travis Hafner to a 1-year deal worth $2 million. One of our fans (not mentioning any names, but sounds like Shmeo) kindly pointed out his "swoon-worthiness." Personally speaking, we don't really find Hafner to be all that sexy, but it appears that he is able to sport some yummy scruff:

The unfortunate part of this is his face. There's really no getting past it. It's not attractive. Oh, well.

Happy Super Bowl, everyone! Remember last year when we went to the Super Bowl Parade and celebrated the Giants victory over the Pats? Fail.

May the best Harbaugh win.