Butter…Butter Get Yourself to the Gym

Because I was born with an innate need for Hydrox cookies (I eat 4-5 packages a day, on average, to keep my soul satisfied), I need to go to the gym to keep my weight below absurd levels.  I really dig sports, but can’t get down with gyms. They’re always the wrong temperature, they’re always boring, and there’s always sweaty people staring at you while you make your most unattractive grimaces. What’s cool is that gyms have figured out that they’re boring, and now have these tiny screens connected to each Treadmill machine (or the like) so you can zone out and watch some videos to rev up your workout.  Cool, right? Not if this power is hijacked for evil.So here I am, in the 40th minute of my  “Cardio Fat Blaster Andes Extreme Course” Elliptical workout, and I look up at the TV for support. I want explosions. I want Bruce Willis driving a car off a ramp into a helicopter.  I want Elliot & Olivia chasing a perp down the 86th street subway platform. I want sweat and blood. I want Jackie Chan sliding down a 250 foot banner into the arms of Owen Wilson. I want, pure and simple, energy.But I don’t get these things. I don’t even get anything resembling these things. I get this:And this:It’s just not right, dammit.