How Goatfinder Lost Her Friends

Y’all ever heard of a Jefferson squat?

Apparently, it’s a move our ancestors did back in the ancient times. When J-Vicious first became certified.

I’d post a picture. But I try to keep my blog rating at R. Maybe single X. If I’m talking about my dating life. Which…currently…is at a solid G rating…

But I never venture over into the realm of XXX.

So y’all gonna need to Google it yourself.

Go ahead.

Google that shit.

Jefferson squat.

I’ll wait…

See???

I was waiting for Fall Risk to get out of work. And meet me at the 5 o’clock class.

But when J-V messaged a photo of my favorite Mountain Junkie super volunteer couple. Skratch and Goatfinder. At the gym for the four o’clock class. I pulled my lazy ass up off the couch and drove there. Early. So I could watch them. And social.

As soon as I walked in, I noticed that no one was speaking to Goatfinder.

“Everything that’s happening is Goatfinder’s fault.”

So, I looked at the board.

The fuck is this?

“We’ll, I was gonna let y’all choose your exercises. Make up your own workout. But…”

That’s awesome! Wait. Why the ‘but?’ What happened…?

“Goatfinder didn’t want to think.”

Ok…

“So now I’m telling you what to do.”

You mean them. You’re telling them what to do. I’m not working out until the next class.

“Nope. Everyone does the same workout. You do what they do.”

Fuck’s sake, Goatfinder.

Apparently they’d kicked off the workout with 4 minutes of pushups. So everyone had already turned on her by the time I got there.

Including her husband.

West’s Sister, who’d just arrived shortly after me to discover what was happening, offered to give Goatfinder a ride home after the next class. If Skratch refused to drive her home.

I offered to give her a ride home before the next class.

Big Lick offered to give her a ride home that very moment. He was ready to abandon his entire workout.

And I don’t know how it happened. Or why. But when their class finally ended. And it was time for our class.

They stayed.

To…do the workout…again…?

Starting with that bullshit. Four minutes. Of push ups.

Do you know how many push ups I’ve done this week?

I should be able to burrow through walls at this point.

When it was time for triceps extensions. West’s Sister excitedly ran to the bands. And claimed the green one…

I don’t…why are you so excited to claim the hardest band…?

The panic in her eyes. When she realized.

But at that point it was too late. The rest of us had claimed all of the purple and black bands.

I mean, I felt bad for her. But not bad enough to trade my shitty purple band out for that bullshit green band.

And remember those Jefferson squats y’all googled?

Let me explain that those are really designed for a certain body type.

So that if you have any sort of thighs. Or ass. Like Fall Risk and me. You just cannot find any graceful way to maneuver yourself up and down. Our lower bodies just would not allow the bar enough space to do that.

You know. Fall Risk got that ass that won’t quit.

Mine will absolutely quit. Given the chance. It is absolutely on the verge of giving up at any moment. Thus my need for consistent leg days.

And then the end of the workout.

More fucking push ups. Four different kinds. For four minutes. Because Goatfinder wanted a “variety pack.”

So I’m not speaking to Goatfinder anymore. After eight minutes of push ups. And the rest of that bullshit.

I have no use of my arms.

I’m not sure she cares. In this moment. Given the 16 minutes of push ups she and Skratch and J-V ended up doing.

Dumbasses.

But the music was solid. And there was plenty of laughter. And conversation.

If it hadn’t been so awful. I’d say it was our own special kind of Friday night party.

But also. I’m the weird ass introvert that’s gonna use push up challenges to engage with people at social events. So…

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