Deep-Fried Tofu

I couldn't think of an appropriately conflicting image to loosen your brains up for the next wildly disparate pair of words you're about to read:

Rafe. Pilates.

[*observes the carnage, as the knowledgeable readership flops around as if they've taken an electric axe-handle to the back of the head*]

My sweetie, the one and only aishlynn, got me a 65cm Pilates ball to park my ass on while I compute as a birfday present. After three hours of use, I can definitely feel a bit of muscle-tightening in the gut region, which was the whole point ot the exercise. The fact that I can twist, roll, and pop most of my vertebrae is just one hell of a bonus. At some point, I might even read the instructions - can't watch the instructional video, however, as we don't own a VCR *laugh*

Then again, I'm a guy - we don't need no steeenkin' eenstructions!

[Aside to trid: Hippy snurfday, you spastic freak! *beeeeg hugs*]