If I ever go to the gym and unwittingly choose the bike in front of the television playing Country Music Television again, please, please, please put me out of my misery.
You see, I can't stop my workout once I start. It's this weird thing I have. So getting up and changing the channel was out of the question.
I was doing okay, for a while. Especially when I discovered Kenny Chesney. He's hot! And since he was singing along to the Black Eyed Peas on my iPod, I could tolerate him.
But then some woman came on. I don't know who. Those female country stars all look the same. Like they come out of some secret factory in Nashville or something.
I couldn't help but read the closed captioning. It's another weird thing that I have. I know. I know. You can keep your opinions about my multitude of weird things to yourselves. I tried so hard to distract myself, but even the trifecta of hot trainers in the freeweight area couldn't do the job.
This blond clone was singing about a young mother who was on the wrong path. She was driving in the car with her baby and hit some black ice.
So she threw her hands in the air and shouted, "Jesus! Take the wheel!" Because she was, "Letting go!"
That's what I always do when my babies are in danger. I just throw up my hands, close my eyes, and let someone else handle it.
That sounds about right.
No responsibility here.
I'd fight Jesus himself, with nothing but my fists, feet, nails and teeth if my babies were in danger.
I understand having a deep faith in Jesus Christ. I do. I understand religion. I have studied and lived it extensively. But my momma always said, "God helps those who help themselves," and I think she's exactly right.
There's nothing like impotent rage to fuel a workout.
This was worse than that time I got stuck in front of The View.
I take it back. No it wasn't.