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Angry Black Lady Chronicles

The Universe Doesn’t Want Me to Exercise


I loathe exercise y’all.  I hate it more than Mae hates cupcakes.  I’ve been a member of a gym for two years now, and I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve actually gone.

I just don’t like it.  The smells.  The sweatiness.  The damp air. The sight of all those people pulling, lifting, stepping, biking, and running.  It’s exhausting just watching them.

It’s the biking and the running that gets me the most.  The people on those machines are so determined.  Pushing themselves as hard as they can.  You can practically hear their inner monologue: “Just one more mile, come on, you can do it!!”

They run and run and pedal and pedal, feet pounding on the treadmill, legs furiously pumping on bike pedals, but they are never going to get anywhere.   It’s like a metaphor for my life.  I run and I run and I never seem to get anywhere.

The few times I have gone to the gym, I resignedly join the slack jawed exercisers, and I run slack-jawedly with them for about 20 minutes (which is the point at which I get so interminably bored that I just can’t take it anymore).  Then I do a solitary sit-up (you know, to strengthen my abs!) and that bores me too.   And a single push-up (you know, for my pecs!) is all I can bear before crushing ennui overcomes me and I give up completely.  I hightail it out of there, go outside, and light up a ciggy.   Nothing beats a cigarette or two after a good solid work out.ts-running-late-exercise3

Well, last night I had an epiphany, y’all.  I’m no longer in my twenties and my metabolism simply isn’t going to allow me to eat a pound of bacon per day (sweet, delicious bacon!) while maintaining my figure.  So, in order to address my  expanding waistline and increasingly sloth-like existence, I decided that this here Angry Black Lady is going to get in shape and in so doing, is going to get her lazy ass dog, Nate Dogg in shape also. Win win!  My plan was to go to Runyon Canyimg_0276on, a park in the Hollywood Hills, at least 5 times a week.  5 times a week!

As proof that I really am serious y’all!, I celebrated my revelation last night by doing a couple few push-ups (1 push-up) and several leg lifts (2 leg lifts—on the left leg only.).  Hoo boy!  That was exhausting!

Not one to make a resolution and break it within minutes of making it (usually), the next afternoon I put on a “Sure, why not?  I can hike in this.” outfit, leashed up my dog, grabbed a thermos of water, and headed out to Runyon Canyon.

Now this is a big step for me.   About once every couple months, I proclaim that I’m “going to start taking Nate Dogg to Runyon Canyon so we both can get some exercise.”  And all told, I’ve been twice.

Ok, that’s a lie.  I’ve been once.  And I’ve lived in LA for 8 years.  So, you know… the fact that I was actually going to Runyon Canyon was a big deal.


So, I drive up there, park my car, grab my dog, grab my iPhone, shove my headphones into my ears, turn on some funky walking jams, and head to the trail.  I’m hiking up the trail for no more than ten minutes when some lady stops me. She is a quintessential homely looking girl—to put it nicely.  She had on a blue button down shirt and a pair of khakis that sat way too high on her waist.  She wore her stringy brown hair in a pony tail, and had on a pair of wire rim glasses—nothing fancy, mind you—just plain old nerdy girl wire rim glasses.  And, most noticeably, her face was as pimply as one of the chicks you see on TV in those Proactiv commercials.  I mean it was severely pimply.  I’m talking could-have-had-a-raging-case of-face-AIDS pimply.

view from Runyon Canyon of the Hollywood Hills

AIDS Face stops me and mumbles something as she points to my pants.  I remove my headphones and say, “Huh?”  She says to me, “Your pants looked stained.”  After staring at her with “Are you fucking kidding me?” face for awhile, I say, “Well, they’re not.”

I prepare to put my headphones back in and continue on with my walk but this crazy woman continues her weird-ass interrogation: “Well, did you buy them like that?”  Now, as she’s saying this, she’s giving me “What the fuck?” face.  It’s a battle between the faces of “Are you fucking kidding me?” and “What the fuck?”

I answer her question: “Yes, they came like that.” and dial my “Are you fucking kidding me?” face up to eleven as I prepared once more to put my headphones back in and continue on with my walk.  I desperately wanted to extricate myself fimani-pants-from the increasingly bizarre conversation—I just wanted to fucking hike for the love of cheese!  Not be grilled by some Amish-looking fashion fascist.

But no.  She had more questions:  “Well, why do you like it?”  Now her tone wasn’t merely inquisitive or curious; it was mocking with a hint of disdain, and as she asked the question, she dialed her “What the fuck?” face up to thirteen.

And I’m standing there thinking, “Is this bitch for real?  This pimply-faced, khaki pants up to her boobs wearing, wire-rimmed glass sporting assjacket is cross-examining me about my outfit?”  Still stunned by whatever the hell it was that was going on, I just said, “Well, I like them.”imani-pants-b

And what does she say in response?  Nothing.  She just rolls her eyes—yes—rolls her motherfuckin’ eyes at me, gives me “You’re fucking out of your mind!” face, turns around and walks away.  Needless to say, y’all, I was totally floored.  You know how on Facebook you can throw sheep and shit at people with that stupid Superpoke application? Well, if I’d been in a worse mood, I very well might have thrown Nate Dogg at her.  Just picked him up and hurled him at her.  But instead I just shook my head and went about my hike.


Now given that I hate exercise, and that I always tell my dog that I’m going to take him to Runyon Canyon, but never do, this little dust up with AIDS Face does not bode well for any future visits to Runyon Canyon.  I  mean fuck, I just wanted to walk and look at the views and get a little exercise.

Is this what exercise is like now?  It’s not only a test of physicality, but also a test of mental and emotional fortitude?  Are hiking trails littered with motherfuckers who will criticize your pants, your running shoes, the length of your hair, or the size of your water bottle?  Do I need to carry a bag of bricks with me when I go hiking so I can be ready to brick the faces of the creepy gnomes and trolls that lurk on the trails, waiting for unsuspecting passers-by that they can criticize, demoralize, or throw off cliffs?  Has “regular hiking” become “extreme hiking”?

Well, dear readers, there is only one conclusion to be drawn from this absurd experience.  Clearly, I’m not supposed to exercise.  The leg lifts and sit ups that I do while I’m watching TV will have to suffice.

As for Nate Dogg?  Well, he’s just going to have to learn how to walk himself.  I’ll give him a compass and a walking stick.  He’ll be fine.


March 25, 2009 - Posted by | Angry Black Lady Chronicles | , , , , , , ,


  1. I cannot believe you didn’t actually say “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Oh, dear, sweet, stm… Perhaps a refresher course in Mae 101 is needed? 😛

    Comment by Mae | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  2. Nice ass! 🙂

    Comment by Skaði | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  3. Ohhhhhh noooooooo she diiii iiiint. There’s never a purple shirted gang around when you need one. She’s lucky I wasn’t aroumd. I’m Puerto Rican. We cut first and ask questions later.

    This is why I do yoga. Other than the occasional nip slip nobody cares what you wear. Unless you have a whole in ur crotch

    Comment by jujubees | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  4. You know what, STM? I think NOT confronting the psychopath while miles away from civilization was probably a wise move.

    She was looking for her next putting-the-lotion-in-the-bucket victim and your pants SAVED you! They are hero pants! Have them bronzed.

    Comment by SeaKat | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  5. Homeschoolers.

    Comment by baby fish mouth | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  6. So, my question is, did you pants really come like that? Seriously.

    Comment by Chronically Constipated | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  7. CC, I *think* they’re cords and depending upon how they catch and reflect the light, they appear to be different colo(u)rs…? STM, can you confirm?

    Comment by SeaKat | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  8. I think they’re hot pants. Not hot pants, but hot pants.

    Comment by baby fish mouth | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  9. I approve of these pants.

    Comment by BunchOfFives | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  10. I think they’re batik or tie-dyed.

    Comment by WhoMee | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  11. if they are hypercolor though… you should see a doctor.

    Comment by baby fish mouth | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  12. ::yawn:: ::stretch::

    waking up at 3 rules.

    the pants are tie dyed-ish. brown with red splotches. they are miss sixty cords that i inherited from my good friend natasha.

    they are my favorite pants in all the land because they are so friggin comfortable.

    i wonder if i should go back to sleep?

    Comment by stopthemadness | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  13. you’re telling me your pants are cords? i can’t even get him to email me and you have his pants?

    Comment by baby fish mouth | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  14. HAHAHA, bfm.

    Comment by stopthemadness | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  15. this just in: i’m going to runyon canyon, but this time i’m wearing camo pants.

    if you don’t here back from me by oh 17 hundred, then call the base star.

    Comment by stopthemadness | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  16. copy that, over and out!

    Comment by shake 'n' bake | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  17. bfm, after his surgery in the desert, Cord now calls himself “Miss Thirty”.

    Comment by SeaKat | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  18. I go to Runyon most weekends these days, usually around 1 or 2. If you ever want someone to watch your back, or just admire your backside, let me know 😛

    btw: I have never had my outfit insulted, although it probably should have been on several occasions. I wonder what I’m doing wrong…

    Comment by TheHobo | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  19. There’s no way that woman wouldn’t have gotten cut. Hard. Or at least gotten a “Get off my tip” yelled at her as I stormed off.

    Comment by Chelsea - PETA Protector | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  20. i will take you up on that thehobo!

    chelsea- usually i just stab first and ask questions later, but we were on a hiking trail in the middle of the hollywood hills. i didn’t want to become a skin suit for AIDS face aka Jame Gumb. oh and i’d left my stabbing knives in the car.

    Comment by stopthemadness | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  21. Don’t you hate that? When you reach for your stabbing knives and you’re like, oh shit, these are my throwing knives?

    Comment by baby fish mouth | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  22. OMG. “i didn’t want to become a skin suit for AIDS face aka Jame Gumb”. I seriously can’t stop laughing. That’s some funny shit right there.

    Comment by shu_shu | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  23. this whole spiel was front to back friggin hilarious.

    Comment by lava | March 25, 2009 | Reply

  24. I suppose that’s acceptable then. No one wants their body parts mailed to relatives because they went off on a stranger.

    Comment by Chelsea - PETA Protector | March 26, 2009 | Reply

  25. Chelsea….classic.

    Comment by TheHobo | March 26, 2009 | Reply

  26. I had my workout attire questioned at the gym. A guy said, with wrinkled-nose-disgusted-face, “do you always work out in those clothes?” And I said, “No, I rarely work out.” After that, I deliberately set my dreadmill to the slowest least inclined pace and sauntered until he finally walked off.

    As I was running later, the little gem of a response hit me in the forehead, “Well, since you’re wearing my tank top today, I had to improvise.” Now I’m just WAITING for some effer to say something. 🙂

    Comment by AdmittedlyAddicted | March 26, 2009 | Reply

  27. of course, being able to USE the response depends on me going back to the gym…and for long enough that someone has time to notice AND approach me…

    eh, details.

    Comment by AdmittedlyAddicted | March 26, 2009 | Reply

  28. AdAd-

    awesome. i have this image of you sunbathing on the treadmill.

    i think i’ll go to the gym with a sleeping bag and a pillow and a beer and just lay down on the treadmill for a while. maybe hang a velvet rope around it with a sign that says “reserved.”

    yeah, i’m totally doing that.

    Comment by stopthemadness | March 26, 2009 | Reply

  29. Put the treadmill on incline.

    Suspend a bag of chips over the treadmill so that they slowly fall onto the treadmill belt.

    Lie on the floor behind the treadmill, mouth open, ready to catch chips as they drop in.

    Loudly ask passers-by to squirt beer from pre-loaded squirt gun into mouth between bites.

    Comment by SeaKat | March 26, 2009 | Reply

  30. STM- good call on wearing the camo this time, that way you can surprise attack AIDS face this time.

    Comment by silent noodles | March 26, 2009 | Reply

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