Rule #44 - Sh-weat Happens

Last week while at the Y working on my bridal bod I whipped out my towel to wipe off the excess glow that had formed around, essentially, my entire face. In doing so I managed to knock the back off one of my earrings and send it falling to the ground. Attempting to maintain all (read: none) of the coordination that I presently possess, I spent a couple of minutes glancing around for the sparkly stud while still mid-stride before deciding to wait for my elliptical sesh to end (ellipti-sesh? Sub-parantheses: Why do I love to abbrev? More accurately, why do I love name combining? Double Sub parantheses: Namebining???) to search for the lost bauble. Once the grueling program had subsided I hopped off to begin looking for it. I searched high and low (well, really, just low... I knew it had not, in fact, gotten lodged in a ceiling tile). Finally I spotted the familiar sparkle peeking out from underneath the machine itself. Attempts to disengage it from the undercarriage of the elliptical machine proved futile with my Velociraptor (confession: I just Wiki'd "velociraptor") arms. Instead, I used my ruggedly handsome and manly brute strength to push the entire machine about 2 feet to the left, effectively unplugging my entire row of equipment. I watched in awe as the entire floor came to a graceful synchronized halt before realizing that I, and not the glorious Lord above, had caused the scene and consequent ire before me. Quickly I reattached my jewel before adapting an identical look of frustration, reconnecting the machines to power and striding confidently away. Yep. They had no idea it was me. They also can't see the lobe infection I received from reconnecting an earring that lay on the gym floor for 30 minutes to my ear. I've got 'em all fooled.