The Right to Bare Arms: No Longer Just for Michelle Obama

“[T]he right of the People to keep and [bare] arms shall not be infringed.”
U.S. CONST. amend. II (poetic license exercised). 

It’s right there in the Constitution.  And not tucked away down around Number 3 with the hallowed right against the forced quartering of soldiers during peacetime.  And not floating foggily out on the penumbra somewhere with ignorable rights like privacy.  It’s Number TWO.  Second only to my right to revel in my own inane ramblings on this blog is my right to show off these soon-to-be-semi-automatic biceps. 

 

All this time I’ve been whining: I want the Michelle Obamas; Where are my damn Michelle Obamas, already?; and Who cares about the Michelle Obamas, anyway?  Well, the whining is over because I’ve found them.  That’s right, I found the Michelle Obamas, and they weren’t even laying delicately at the end of a rainbow atop a pot o’ gold as I was beginning to think they surely must be.  Not even!  They were closer than I ever imagined.  They were stuffed right under the bus that ran me over last night. 

Hit by a bus
Credit: http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/ view-image.php?image=3734&picture =fix-the-bus

 Yeah, man, P90X: Chest, Shoulders & Triceps hit me like the Fung Wah rolling tearing down I-93 into Chinatown!  It was the first workout of Phase 2, and now Sideshow Blob and I agree, we are longing for the workouts we used to hate the most in Phase 1.  Even the toughest workout  from Phase 1 turned out to be merely an amuse bouche for the misanthropic meal of misery that is sure to be Phase 2.  I suppose this is how we are going to “blast through the plateau” of Phase 1 mastery, but “muscle confusion” is really starting to feel more like “perpetual living room humiliation.”    

Heybabies by natalie dee
Credit: http://www.nataliedee.com/

But whatever.  I mean, yeah I got hit by a bus in the comfort of my own home, and yeah my husband has now officially seen me at my lowest point (guess this may be meant to be, after all), but the point is, that while I was under there bent between the drums and rotors, squirming from behind the carburetor (and clearly learning NOTHING about the actual anatomy of an automobile), I saw them – the enigmatic Michelle Obamas.  And now I know how I eventually will get them.  I will continue to submit to Tony Horton’s Phase 2, and I will continue to push for one more clapping push-up (yeah, I know. I thought those were just a joke, too. Turns out they’re for REAL, and you have to practically defy the laws of physics to attempt even one). 

I have faith, now, that I am moving from the “Heybabies” to the “Hey, Baby!” 

<<<<<<<<<<UPDATE>>>>>>>>>> 

J. Simp has a new M.O.
Jacked from: http://news.softpedia.com/ images/news2/Jessica-Simpson-Wants-to-Be-Michelle-Obama-2.jpg

  

I KNEW I wasn’t the only one dying for the Michele ObamasThough I’m really just focused on the arem, not stealing her husband, kidnapping her designer, or going to any sorts of SWF-lengths to actually be Michelle Obama.

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