Diary Entry from the Woman in the Peloton Commercial on Her First Day with Her New Bike
I finish my first Peloton class and am so proud of myself I have a small panic attack. You can get panic attacks from joy, right?
I finish my first Peloton class and am so proud of myself I have a small panic attack. You can get panic attacks from joy, right?
And when I turned to find you, you were gone. How is that even possible? How could I fail to notice your location or distinguishing features?
Take Time To Ideate: Commune with your butt on the shape and altitude you’d like to achieve together.
This contraption will gyrate you vigorously while asking you about sense-certainty, the super-sensible, and collective consciousness.
Yet another advantage she has over me and my perpetually degrading corporeal being that needs stupid shit like food and water and exercise and love.
We simply weren’t burning enough calories. That’s why we swapped it out for High Intensity Forever Training (HIFT).
You notice a phalanx of tiny Greek soldiers inside your body and they're stabbing you in the lungs with their historically accurate iron spears.
How did you ask me to watch your gallon jug of water without a second thought or an inkling of remorse?
D-Mo had made a lot of gains over the past year, but he still had so many gains ahead of him. I guess that’s what makes this so difficult.
You head straight to your corner, even though reserving spots isn't allowed, we all know it’s yours since you’re a woman of habit. And we fear you.
Does metabolism really have anything to do with taking off your shirt, screaming "I want to feel alive!" and diving face first into a 360-degree twisted tube slide?
The barbwire tattoo around this douchebag's arm essentially screamed, "None of my shirts have sleeves and I punch walls when I get insecure about my small penis!"