One lucky NYC-based Toastie who happens to be available Friday, August 30th at 7:30pm will get to have a free training session with ME and also Captain Superquads. What could be more thrilling? Nothing. You’ve seen him box jump. You’ve seen his unnecessarily optimistic plan for beginners. The prize is open to male and female readers alike, and I will lay my sweaty hands on you as a benediction and buy you the electrolyte replenishment beverage of your choosing.
At first, I couldn’t figure out what to make you do to compete for such an august prize, there were a lot of options:
1. Describe two imaginary Mitford sisters in captivating detail.
2. Draw (visually or in words) the tiara you would award Antoinette Tuff for her heroism.
3. Write a sonnet about Robert Townsend.
4. Compose an acrostic for “bok choy” which covers why bok choy is awful.
5. Rewrite the lyrics to Tegan and Sara’s “Closer” so it’s about me.
So, you can do any one of those things in the comments for this piece. I mean, these are cool things, you can do them even if you are ineligible to win, just to show off.
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Tags: captain superquads, feel the burn, fitness, giveaway
How DARE you, bok choy is delicious.
And thanks for giving me a Monday morning craving for braised bok choy! How am I supposed to satisfy this urge right now?
Baby bok choy implies a certain cuteness, or at least an ability to fit an entire baby veg into one’s mouth, a la carrots, but baby bok choy are deficient in both of these categories.
Oh, how low ginger and garlic have fallen, that they are so frequently called into the line of duty to salvage this sad cabbage cousin.
Kids know how bad they are: find a child, and ask.
Contains compounds called glucosinolates that have been found to inhibit thyroid function in animals, and caused 88-year-old woman to fall into a myxedema coma.
Has garnered seven racist definitions on urbandictionary; here, enjoy some alarming pull quotes: “This person will talk to himself, touch people’s hair for no reason, and go on angry tangents and choke people just because he/she feels like it.”
Outrageously, baby bok choys were served impaled on stakes – unaltered by any cooking processes, as if they were perfect in their wholeness removed mere moments ago from the ground – for an amuse bouche at Blue Hill at Stone Barns. People expect more than this treachery!
Yes, it is basically a celery, and celery is already boring and distasteful. And bok choys should not even be bedecked by peanut butter and raisins.
/less an acrostic poem than an acrostic rantling, I suppose
The tiara is primarily composed of one of those lit-up scrolling words things (like in bodegas) that displays a constant stream of poetry, specifically geared to the viewer’s state of mind. It plays haunting string covers of pop 40 at a pleasant volume. It has wiggly-eye antennae to make the kids smile. Some people claim they can see a round ring of light above the tiara, but only in certain angles, and only when the viewer’s heart is at peace or they’ve just called their mother.
I would really like this prize and I am available!
Top 40 Pop. It’s early.
All I wanna get is
A volunteer Toast’er
All I wanna know is
Will you be my workout partner?
She’s taking notes and writing posts
To make you a fitter Toast’er
Here comes the rush, just one more crunch
Gon’ unlock your potential
Her books are open
She’s making her lists
It’s warm comfort when Nicole is in your head
It’s gonna be oh so physical
No shamin’ ’cause she not so critical
Ben Cohen get you physical
… er, um, got distracted by him horizontal
Boogeymen have been conjured for ages
Out of vegetables. This horrible myth, that
Kids must be forced to eat their greens. It’s a
Crime, all slander. Kale, broccoli, even Brussels sprouts
Hold such potential to be so delicious. But I won’t
Overreach here with my claims. I reserve one resounding
Yuck, still, for bok choy.
Booouggghh 🙁
Ooooyeeccchhh :((
Kibleccchh :(((
Chhhllllkkkkk! :'(
Hhhheeeeyuucckkk ;_;
Ooooooohhh that’s gross.
YUCK
(Ready to get sweaty!)
Here’s an almost-rondelet acrostic about bok choy.
By god, this green
Of devil’s sulfur born and yet
Kept in cuisine.
Cruciferous and cruel, unclean!
How tenderly you veil your threat
Of horror in that lush rosette:
Your leaves obscene.
But I did Day 1 of your workout yesterday and my arms fell off and I died and now I’m writing this poem from hell so probably don’t pick me even if you like it.
Had we but world enough and time
This workout, Superquads, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To squat and lunge our long legs’ day.
Thou by the Smith machine’s useless side
Shouldst plank pose find: I by the slide
Of free weights would complain. I would
Curse you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the collapse of all my thews.
My vegetable strength should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thy regimen and sweat my forehead glaze;
Two hundred to work out my biceps
But thirty thousand to the triceps;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should slow my heart.
For, Trainer, you deserve this state,
Nor would I lift at lower weight.
But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
DVR’d shows of vast eternity.
Thy discipline shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My whining song: then beers shall quench
That long preserved abstinence,
And your good intentions turn to frass,
And into cellulite all my ass.
The theater’s a fine and cheerful place,
And none, I think, do there knees brace….
Go on, roll all your strength and all
Your sweetness up into one ball,
And tear your pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron scrum of life:
Thus, though I cannot make the sun
Stand still, yet I’ll do a 5K run.
(Sorry to miss this, but I’m too far away and also have tickets to see “Neverwhere” that night. Hope someone enjoys the workout!)
I once gained entry into an upper-level psych lab by composing a set of behavioral-psychology-themed limericks, so… *cracks knuckles*
Please post those limericks here, as well.
I once gained entry into an upper-level psych lab by composing a set of behavioral-psychology-themed limericks, so… *cracks knuckles*
I think she should be given the most magnificent tiara. One that is so lightweight, it does not weigh upon her lovely brow, but instead instills such a feeling of joy as to give her a feeling of lightness. It will be decorated with the happy tears of angels, which look like diamonds, but prettier. And glowing rainbow swirled orbs, more magnificent than any pearl, for they are bubbles blown by laughing innocent children, frozen in time (the bubbles, not the children). Swoops of platinum and gold hold the jewels, and glint like smiles, or the brief flash of a dimple, as she turns her head. And it shall hug her head, gently, as if being enveloped by the arms of a benevolent universe.
WHAT
All of this anti-bok choy sentiment has left me a sweaty, sputtering mess.
You need to get yourself some baby bok choy (BABY. bok. choy.) You need to sauté that shit with minced garlic and some rooster sauce. THAT, good lady, is like a mouthful of paradise one bite at a time.
But I could never sell out bok choy just for fitness, right?
Or could I? It’s not like my sub-lady pushup is going to improve its own lazy-ass self,
Knowing that I’ve been doing ’em lazy for the last seven years and not
Caring enough to fix the form so that I actually improve.
Hell, I’ve got no beef with the bok choys of the world but it’s not my number
One favorite either. I can live without it, unlike a jacked-up quad area, which I simply require.
Yuck, ew, bok choy, fuck that shit, no way. *makes elaborate thumbs down gesture at choy*
Hello, I enjoy fitness and also am sadly going away for labor day weekend plan-less.
But I could never sell out bok choy just for fitness, right?
Or could I? It's not like my sub-lady pushup is going to improve its own lazy-ass self,
Knowing that I've been doing 'em lazy for the last seven years and not
Caring enough to fix the form so that I actually improve.
Hell, I've got no beef with the bok choys of the world but it's not my number
One favorite either. I can live without it, unlike a jacked-up quad area, which I simply require.
Yuck, ew, bok choy, fuck that shit, no way. *makes elaborate thumbs down gesture at choy*
Hello, I enjoy fitness and also am sadly going away for labor day weekend plan-less.
Aw, it changed my linebreaks. Bummer.
Aw, it changed my linebreaks. Bummer.