
It looks like spring might finally be here. There are buds on the trees and migratory bird-shit on the pollen on the snow. Spring means one thing; it’s time to shape up. Even though my abs look like I’m 5 months pregnant and the places where my arm muscles used to be look about as well-defined as sausages, I’m not talking about the traditional pumping of iron.
I need to get some tone where it counts – on my sarcasm muscles. The past 17 months of winter have done wonders for my cynicism, and I’ve got a personal best for reps of bitterness, but my sarcasm is as flabby as Rush Limbaugh’s third neck wattle – that’s right, I said the third one! Any flabbier and Obamacare would cover me for a wattle-ectomy (obviously my irony still has a pulse).

The logical place to turn was the myriad of gyms which sprout up constantly in my area, usually in under-performing strip malls. They promise all sorts of workouts and low introductory rates. Surely one of these sweat shops could help me. I checked in at the one just down the highway which was sandwiched between a vacant supermarket and a space which had a sign in the window promising that a pet grooming business was “Comming Soon“. Clearly the spelling portion of the pet grooming curriculum is not as critical as “Advanced Schnauzer Trimming” or graduate level offerings such as “Persian Cats and the Dingleberry Dilemma.”
I was set up to chat with a personal trainer. He seemed like a nice enough guy and had one hell of a handshake, but I wasn’t sure he was going to be able to help me.
“I need to tone up my sarcasm” I told him. There was no need to beat around the bush, and I wanted to avoid having him start focusing on my absent abs or gelatinous gluts.
He looked a little confused for a second, but then he nodded his head. “Sure!” he said. “I can see that you know your anatomy.” He started going into some discussion about which machines would focus on which muscle groups and after a minute or two, it was clear that he’d confused the sarcasm muscle with the one called the “sartorius”.

I left the gym without signing anything and trudged across the nearly empty parking lot with the added burden of knowing that my sartorius muscles were withered. I tried not to think about how horrific I’d look in a bathing suit, with neither well-defined muscles nor the defense of sarcasm I’d need to deal with the disapproving stares of fellow beach goers.
I tried another gym. Since sarcasm resides in the very center of my being, I foolishly assumed that working on my core strength would address it. After one Pilates session, I realized that I was very much mistaken, and now my tummy hurts when I laugh. Fortunately, nothing is that funny these days. Hot yoga also turned out to be a bust from a sarcasm-building standpoint, but I did discover that after enough limbering up, I am physically capable of kicking myself in the ass.
Having struck out in gyms, I decided to take a break from the quest to rebuild my diminished sarcasm. I turned to my trusted friend the internet. After brief forays into Dutch Toe-porn and checking the Facebook status of that girl who sat behind me in 3rd grade and allegedly ate paste, I surfed over to the news. There were tons of stories from the world of entertainment, sports and politics.
It seems Subway, among others, has long been using an ingredient in their breads which is also found in yoga mats. The company has been so concerned that they are nearly done phasing it out of the recipe. This begs the questions as to whether your sandwich tastes like a yoga mat, or if your yoga mat tastes like a sandwich (or in some cases, both). For the record, toasting ones yoga mat will make hot yoga even hotter.
Stephen Colbert has been attacked via Twitter for upsetting some group. Calls for his firing were attached to a hashtag. He’s been such a target of onslaught that he’s been awarded the single most prestigious job in TV, replacing a retiring David Letterman. There’s rumor of a new Twitter option which essentially says #GoAheadAndGetMeFiredBecauseIveAlreadyGotABetterJobLinedUp.
Back in January, an Ohio man was buried straddling his beloved Harley in a custom plexiglass casket. A team of morticians (and/or taxidermists) labored to insert rods into his back and take the necessary steps to keep him upright on the Electra Glide for all eternity. This is a perfect example of the kind of human interest stories which got buried* due to all the media hype about stray dogs at the Sochi Winter Olympic Games.
* Pun not originally intended, but left in as an attempt at appearing clever.

With each word I read, I can feel the sarcasm rising within me like a crocus shoot breaking through the permafrost. It seems the answer to my problem has been right at my fingertips all along. With my sarcasm back on track to potency, maybe I’ll find the time to work on those saggy sartorius muscles after all.
The plexiglass was a nice touch, especially if he was claustrophobic.
Also, Rush Limbaugh called. He said, “Bygones” on the wattle thing.
That Rush! He’s a man of few words. He probably had a big old breakfast stogie in his mouth so he had to keep his comments brief.
Look at you, flexing your sarcasm all over the place!
Ouch! I think I pulled something just then.
Seriously, that illustration you posted is exactly the area I hit on my way to the bathroom floor. I’m hoping for a muscle tear and not a (sacral) fracture. Thankfully, with the Internet, I don’t need no stinkin’ doctor.
…and here all this time I’ve been thinking the Sartorius was extinct.
Like most muscles, the sartorius is carefully hidden beneath protective layers of fat, and in some cases, body hair.
…and your point? There is one, just the one, right?
My having more than one point would constitute a violation of blog names truth in title subsection 7.2 and would likely result in my loss of 1/3 of my followers while being disgraced in the WordPress community. So let’s keep that second point as our little secret.
By the way, good morning!
You being nice to me so I’ll do your barn chores?
Think again, darling…
I’m being nice because I’m so darn fond of you. If you end up mucking the stalls out of kindness, I won’t turn it down.
Consider it done. But….you owe me big time.
I always have, with interest.
I laughed so hard I pulled a hammie. No, not my hamstring, my ham and yoga mat sandwich from Subway. I avoid gyms, even though some of the fittest people say some of the stupidest things (I blame a lack of oxygen to the brain) and should make for some good blog fodder…that and I hate being sweatier than anyone else there before I even step on the treadmill (don’t judge).
Hope your sarcasm gets a thorough workout. You need to design a Couch to Sarcasm program…could make you a bazillionaire.
We can leave out the word “to”. Most sarcasm is best honed while supine on a couch, preferably with the feet elevated and a frosty malt beverage nearby.
On the Subway topic, someone needs to keep an eye on the nutritional values of their food. Something tells me when the new bread recipe goes into effect, the dietary fiber is going to drop.
Did you know the same chemical is also used in flip-flops (the state shoe of Florida)? I am not a Subway fan, and I once even described a sandwich from there as tasting like a flip flop. Research proved me right on that one.
Jimmy Buffett might be smelling a cross marketing opportunity between Subway and (Blown up) Flip Flops. If only he can find a way to squeeze a tequila company in there…
I was going to suggest a trip to WalMart, but I see you don’t need extreme measures.
I was going there anyway; their yoga mats are on sale this weekend.
I think you have sarcasm-dysmorphic syndrome, because whether you recognize it or not, your sarcasm reigns supreme. Luckily for us, because we like it. Carry on!
To paraphrase an old Graham Parker song lyric, “..you can’t be too sarcastic”
I wonder if my poor husband agrees…
Actually, come to think of it, he holds his own pretty well.
By the way, thanks for inadvertently putting that Graham Parker and the Rumour song in my head, it’s an old favorite. It’s actually “You Can’t Be Too Strong”.
My pleasure!
I’m glad to see the pointy barbs of sarcasm poking through the snow. It just lay dormant over the winter 1point. I’m anticipating a spring filled with quips and jabs!
Batten down the hatches Missy, there’s sarcastic banter in the forecast.
Great post. Check out my blog!
Is that dead biker shot for real? If it is has the bike being dug up by grave robbers yet?
The photo and story are real. There were quite a few shots, I picked the one which was least likely to upset readers. As for grave robbers, they’ll need to pry that Harley from his cold, dead fingers. Seems like too much work to me.
Ride to live etc etc
And here I thought your Governor would provide all the sarcasm spice your life would ever want.
My bad.
He’s not known for his sarcasm. I dared not use him for the wattle reference – he knows where I live and which bridges I use.
Looks like your sarcasmious muscles are nicely toned after all.
The really amazing thing about that guy is not that he got buried in a big Tupperware container…not that he is wasting something like $50,000 by burying the bike…it’s that they were able to dig a hole that big in the frozen ground, in Ohio, in January! That’s some awesome backhoe that cemetery has.
According to the article, they needed the three plots next to his wife’s eternal resting spot where she’d been since predeceasing him by some years. I’m looking into booking a psychic to find out what the wife thinks about all this. My guess is; she aint happy.
I can’t imagine a worse tragedy than you actually losing your sarcasm! Fortunately, catastrophe averted!!
My sarcasm is intact after all – I just needed Harley burials and Stephen Colbert to awaken it
Thankfully these things exist! 😉
True enough – without yoga mat ingredients, the sarcasm muscles could easily atrophy.
I think your sarcasm levels are all good …you’re a natural that needs no workout … like Magic Johnson 🙂 You totally cracked me up with the Steven Colbert #GoAheadAndGetMeFiredBecauseIveAlreadyGotABetterJobLinedUp I think he’s going to be great on late night.
I’m glad your sarcasm muscle is back, but I miss watching you exercise it.
I’m guessing that that’s about to change. Stay tuned…