FitnessFixation.com

Every once in a while, some dude one will joke that I must be using steroids. I can honestly say I’ve never been tempted to ‘roid on up, especially since I don’t really wanna get bigger than I am. The whole idea of taking pills that might have both immediate and longterm awful effects has never appealed to me, unless those pills make me feel like a GOD or make me go to my happy place. And I don’t get to take those kinds of pills any more, cuz you may have noticed, I can be a wee bit obsessive.

But then the other day, I was listening to an NPR story on this life-saving drug that helps the body produce more red blood cells called Erythropoietin, or EPO. It’s great for people recovering from some debilitating illnesses. Aaaand some athletes use it for performance enhancement. They estimated about 60 percent of the Tour de France riders in the 90’s were using it, and many of the tests for it were ineffective. And naturally you can buy it crazy on the internets. The point of the story was that the tests for Olympians may not correctly detect this drug, and therefore people could skate through with a little dopin’. As I listened, I thought, “Gosh, that could have some side effects. I hope the tests get better, because if they are gonna ban performance enhancing drugs, then they should have a way of enforcing that. And regular joes using it too… Gee, you must be desperate when you start buying drugs online with no way of ensuring you are getting what you paid for.” Then the reporter mentioned that some researchers did a study on college athletes. They gave athletes EPO, and found (if I heard this correctly) some had a 50 percent performance increase. The reporter went on to say they then sent samples to labs who purport to detect EPO, and many doped jocks came back negative. (Can you tell I just like the word, ‘dope’?) But I was hardly paying attention by that point, because for the first time ever, I was seized with the total temptation to get me some mother fucking EPO. I mean, 50 percent performance increase! Do you know what I would give for that? Oooh, I’d be a monster, I’d be able to do better sprints, maybe I’d get more plyo if I could work jumps without almost passing out, plus I’d be able to do like a bajillion rounds…

Ahem. I tried to compose myself, and then casually mentioned it to our resident physician. “Uh, you could get the same effect through high altitude training,” she said. I picture myself suffering through training on some freezing mountain top with thin air and sherpas laughing at me. “That sound much harder than taking the drug,” I said darkly. “I think the point here is I want maximum performance with minimum effort.”

I remembered my day of longing for EPO when I saw this thing on drugs that made mice have more endurance and made lazy mice get off the sofa and yadda yadda. Wouldn’t it just save time to invent SOMA or develop robot bodies for us so we never had to worry about any of this stuff? I want a robot body with eight octopus arms and really nice tits. Can I special order that now? If you ask me, science tends to take the long road when there’s a more convenient way that just needs a little inventing.

So I guess the moral is: Send me some EPO! Uh, no, maybe it’s: Golly gosh, someday we’ll have a pill for everything! No? How about: Crime doesn’t pay? Be nice to spiders? Lab tests are often inaccurate, so you can’t prove the baby is mine? Okay, let’s just go with: Until science makes us all superhuman robots with sweet racks and the ability to really multi-task, it’s probably safest to just train hard and steer clear of shortcuts. Unless you are an Olympian or a pro, in which case: Don’t come home unless you get first place, bitch!

But speaking of happy pills and by extension, my happy place, it is apparently already National Orgasm Day. Crazy huh? I mean, it feels like we just put the orgasm decorations away, and now here it is again… I believe this is a British study, so those of us in the States and elsewhere will just have to piggyback on this grand holiday. Yo, I did my part. Now, because national days are usually just some heavy-handed excuse to sell shit or “raise awareness” (see: National Seatbelt Day, National Candy Day, the Fourth of July, National Buttplug Day, etc.) we know this is probably the case for the old ‘O’ day. And yes, as it turns out the day is in honor of a survey, which found (um, scientifically? hmmm) that among surveyed womenfolk, “46% percent never or rarely achieve orgasm.” Yikes! That’s almost half of the ladies getting all tense and crabby! What in the blazes is going on? Has the world gone to hell? And what are their partners doing? I’m sure some ladies are experiencing non-partner related issues, but when we get in the 46% range, we need some tutorials, and how. Also, since a partner is not required for an ‘O’, I can only wonder why these women have opted out of flying without a co-pilot. It is just. Not. Right. I kinda think this was an inaccurate survey, but what the heck, an intervention is needed. So on this British National Orgasm Day, won’t you dig deep into your hearts and your porn collections and send some choice films and photos and so on to our brothers and sisters in the U.K.? Your porn could make someone very happy, and maybe even save a life. So please, on this one special day, be generous. An orgasm could depend on it.

Oh, but when you click on the links long enough, you also find that the study was sponsored in part by the makers of the Pelvic Toner. What in tarnation is the Pelvic Toner? So glad you asked. Long answer: According to these people, Kegels—and those would be pelvic floor exercises, sometimes done by stopping the pee stream or while at a red light—are actually intended to be done against resistance. Here’s the money quote: “You have to squeeze against a resistance—it’s no use doing the odd squeeze against thin air while you’re vacuuming or waiting for the bus!” Wow, when you put it that way, my “odd squeeze” seems awfully wussy. No wonder I don’t have the definition I’d like in my pelvic floor muscles. Now, nothing wrong with getting some “resistance” in that region, so I scrolled down the page to see what this toner looks like…

Porno salad tongs. That’s my assessment. I am so entertained by this thing. I really, really want to scare someone by making it clack like those wind-up chattering teeth. Clack-clack-clack-clack… Could be terrifying in a sort of “vagina dentata gets pinchy rather than bitey” kind of way. You know if I had one I’d be creeping my sister out with it all the time, picking up articles of her clothing with it. “Oh, you don’t mind if I get that with my pelvic toner, do you? Until I get eight robot arms I’m using the toner as a kind of extra hand. So, do you want this shirt back now? No? I can keep it?” Thank you pelvic toner—my hoo hoo is totally ripped…oh, sounds like childbirth buffed and muscular, and I have a killer new wardrobe that’s just a wee bit small. I could NOT have done it without you. Hey, do these come any bigger, for those who like to lift heavy?

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 31st, 2008 at 9:38 pm and is filed under blah blah, body building, exercise, fads and facts, good gear, healthy crap, holidays, linkorama, news and research, one for the ladies, other mags, reviews, screwing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.