Well I've gone and fucking done it, now, haven't I?
If you've been following along, I mentioned a while ago in a blog post that I was trying DDP Yoga and I was planning to report back. To refresh your memory, it's a mix of yoga, callisthenics, and getting SUPER FUCKING RIPPED. It's also really interesting having an ex-WWF wrestler yelling at you to go into the downward-facing dog position. I thank God every day that he's not in the same room with me.
I enjoy it quite a bit. I've tried yoga, hot yoga, gym routines, running, four sports a week, working as a stunt-cock in some local, shady porn ring. But none of that kept my attention longer than a few weeks, and I don't remember having this much fun working out, besides that one time I went to the gym and "lifted" while a girl in skin-tight yoga pants, and a sports bra three sizes too small, caught me looking at her in the mirror and then promptly had me thrown out of the gym by a guy who was actually lifting.
And while DDP Yoga is fun and easy and it's supposed to make me better looking and able to reel in 10's by the dozen, there's only one issue.
I am really fucking lazy.
I'm not sure you quite understand the degree of laziness. And if you do, FOR SHAME.
If I could still eat loads of gluten and dairy without shutting down my condo building's water and sewer, my ideal night would involve a large, Hawaiian, cheesy-crust pizza, a few jalapeno dippers to smother that cheesy goodness in diabetes, a Sylvester Stallone action flick, and my Edmonton Oilers blanket (which may or may not have been used in several past sexual encounters). Yes, Scott. I know I said I pulled it straight from the linen closet, but that was a bold faced lie.
And while this is ideal for, what I assume, is pretty much every human on the planet, it's going to make for a short life and a whole lot of fat loneliness for years to come. Instead, I'm trying to cut out a path toward betterment for myself, and DDP Yoga is supposed to be a part of that.
So, during a week in which I was failing at life, my buddy, "The Big Loubowski", let me know that he read my blog and had the DDP Yoga videos stashed away somewhere in his house. We got to talking, and not surprisingly we somehow turned it into a competition. We needed something to drive us, to motivate us to stick with it, and so we worked out a fail-safe plan that would guarantee success and life-long happiness. Here it is:
Goal: 30 DDP Yoga sessions in 2 Months
Reward: The other competitor must craft or buy a reward trophy for the winner. If both Dustin and Lou win, the same rules apply.
Failure: The other competitor chooses a Butterfly image for the loser to have tattooed somewhere on his body. If both Dustin and Lou lose, the same rules apply.
If this doesn't motivate me, I don't know what will. Stakes are high, but my laziness meter is even higher. I would put the odds at around 60% that I'll have a cute butterfly with a huge, veiny dick tattooed on my ankle in two months.
On Lou's end, I think the fucker might just lose on purpose as an excuse to get a butterfly tattoo, and he knows I won't be TOO evil because he has a kid and a wife that mostly loves him. And I must admit, he'd look pretty good with a tramp stamp. Looking back, I should have REALLY motivated him with the threat of having "Semen Demon" splashed right above his ass-crack. So many life regrets.
Wish me luck, or pray to Allah that I break my leg in half and can't complete the challenge. He's always looking for ways to fuck over heathens.