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Fit as a Sweaty Fucking Fiddle

Last night I had my second session with Trainer Tracey.  I accidentally spilled the beans and told her about the song I sang to RLO while we ran laps in the gym while carrying those damn 10 lbs balls.

“I hate Tracey, yes I do.  I hate Tracey and so should you.”

Rather than taking offense she laughed.  It makes working out with her so much easier just knowing she doesn’t mind if I have to hate her sometimes.

It was a great night at the gym, not only because we had a good workout, but because there were no police outside waiting to arrest me for statuatory rape.  I was so pumped about these Gliding Discs we used that rather than order some online and wait for their arrival, I rushed home and tried the routine again with paper plates.  I thought my plan was brilliant, but quickly realized my mistake when I couldn’t finish the workout because Daisy wouldn’t stop licking the plates.

Looks like I’ll be breaking down and ordering the plastic ones.  Luckily they look similar to Frisbees, so she won’t go near them.  She never was a Frisbee type of dog, even when she had both eyes.

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