chad randy, personal trainer

this is what i woke up to this morning- chad randy, personal trainer. i couldn't decide which would be a better name for my personal trainer, so i used the two that i liked best.

hey chad. how's it going?

'do you think these horizontal stripes make me look fat? be honest. i'm a little concerned.'

well, chad, i have to say that i don't think it's the stripes.

i think it's you. you're a little fat.

'shit. i was afraid of that. what do you think i should do? some crunches? maybe leg lifts?'

'huh-one, huh-two, huh-three...'

'phew... i feel better already. and also a little sick. maybe i over did it a little.'

maybe you should loosen the sweatpants a bit? i'm just sayin'.

well, after that work-out it was time to kick back and relax. which sounded promising, until mommy brought out the bumbo for another go round.

yup, still not digging it. and the cat has added his own look of derision to the scene.

'seriously, guys. what am i supposed to do here?'
no idea, i'm afraid.

now, the vibra-chair is another story all together. it's cradled and cushy, and all you have to do is sit there and shake.

beebs is giving a thumbs up to the vibra-chair. it sure is hard to hold your hand steady with all that pulsing going on...

brrrrrrrrrr...

rrrrrrrrrr...

thththiiiiissss issssss gggggggggggrrrreeeeaaaaattttt!!!!!

hey bebe, this is supposed to help with your, uh, gas problem, too!

really? that's great! wait a minute, you told everyone about my gas problem?
why, i oughtta...

sorry, beebs. you're a baby, babies get gassey... i didn't think it would be a big deal.

i can't believe you told them about my gas problem.

is nothing sacred?

i can't believe you sometimes daddy.

it's funny, your mother says the same thing. well, minus the daddy part. at least i didn't tell everyone that i call you gassey molassey. that's gotta count for something, right?

oops.