sugarmilkandbits
Lucky Charms fall from the box into a bowl that says “Kellogg’s is Best!” All alone in the kitchen, I scratch myself in my grogginess and stare at a clock that reads three in the afternoon. I trip while shuffling to the couch, and spill some cereal onto my already stained living room rug. Still scratching my balls, I find the remote and turn on the television, hoping for infomercials so I can take my mid-morning-post-waking nap. To my satisfaction, there is a program advertising a workout tape series that strengthen one’s levator scapulae . The accompanying fitness device resembles the unholy child of a meat grinder and dishwasher (complete with carrying case). Either way, it’s not appealing. The infomercial host asks the girl in the background if she likes the workout, or if she feels the burn, and she responds with a great smile, “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing anything!” Truly, she isn’t doing anything. She’s getting paid to sweat and wear a low cut sports bra a