I knew it would happen. In fact I deserved it. But, even so, it hurts like hell today, and I�m going to complain about it.

Last night Trainer Boy kicked my ass from one side of the gym to the other. And today every muscle from my shoulders to my calves is screaming in pain.

Trainer Boy had been in Taiwan on a modeling gig since the first of the year. Without the motivation of a $50 an hour training session and bombarded with work as I have been, I had not been to the gym since December 30, 2003. Yes, the last time I was at the gym was last year. Oh, the shame.

Well, Trainer Boy finally finished being gorgeous white guy to his adoring Taiwanese fans and decided to come home to his less-glamorous alter-ego as Trainer Boy/Realtor. (Yes, Trainer Boy, in addition to being model-extraordinaire, also sells real estate. He�s multi-talented. I�d marry him if he weren�t so young.)

Anyway, Trainer Boy is back and demanding my presence in the gym. This is what I pay him for.

So last night I go to the gym. Of course, I had to schedule the training session at 8:30 p.m., so as not to miss a minute of American Idol�s massacre of Gloria Estefan�s music.

And, as if the physical exhaustion and subsequent pain that awaits me is not sufficient torment, Trainer Boy makes me get on the scale and face the dreaded tape measure in order to see the wretched results of my 3 � month slack-fest. It was ugly.

Once I was well and thoroughly humiliated and rebuked, we hit the gym for the interval circuit from hell. Two weight machines followed by two minutes on the elliptical, over and over again, in rapid succession, until every muscle is trembling in exhaustion, sweat is pouring into my eyes, and I�m crying out for mercy. But when it was all done, it actually felt good. I felt good. I was tired and achy, but it felt damn good.

Today, however, I�m not feeling so good anymore. Everything hurts. Places that I didn�t even know I worked out hurt. Every time I move, I moan like a feeble octogenarian pulling her weary body out of bed in the morning. It�s pathetic really.

But, really, this is what I get for being such an inexcusable slacker for the past three months. So, as soon as I can move again, I�m shucking my sloth and going back to regular workouts. I�m paying gorgeous Trainer Boy to kick my ass again on Thursday. And I�m sure I�ll be moaning and groaning like an old lady on Friday.

To recap: I got my ass kicked. I liked it. Now my ass hurts. I don�t like it. I need regular ass-kickings. This is why I pay gorgeous Trainer Boy to kick my ass. I�ll be getting my ass kicked again on Thursday. My ass is sure to hurt on Friday.

* * *

Speaking of a well deserved ass-kicking, I hope that the Supreme Court gives the administration a swift kick in the ass for its troubling tendency to chuck the Constitution out the window by declaring U.S. citizens �enemy combatants� without a modicum of due process.

* * *

This bit of news isn�t an ass-kicking, per se, but it sure as hell kicks ass. Disco the Kid and his band, Public Domain, have made it to the next round in the radio contest for a recording contract!

So, go vote for Public Domain. Vote now. Vote often.

If you vote for Public Domain, then you�ll kick ass too. But only in the good way, not in the way that makes you hurt so much the next day that you whimper like a sick cat.

Listening To: Public Domain, "Second Hand Smoke" -- GO VOTE!!!
Reading: boring legal crap
Feeling: pain, everywhere