But the Grim Reaper did come for a visit. He’s really quite pleasant, for a bony, ashy, stinky, soul-stealing void of a death kisser.

I really thought I might die last night. You see, I tried a NEW THING AT THE GYM because I need to change up my workouts. I have a goal to meet. My birthday is in 1 month, I want to lose another 12 lbs by then. So I’ve met with Cute Little Trainer Boy for some tips and he advised me to try this NEW THING AT THE GYM.

POWERHOUSE 90

It’s a class. If you’ll click the link above, you’ll see exactly how well I did in yesterday’s class. Here’s a hint:
Needless to say, It’s going to take a lot more classes, and a lot more humiliation before I can call myself the master of the Powerhouse 90 Arm Class.

Anyway, back to my new BFF–Grim. See, after class, I came home and collapsed. I had some Advil for dinner, washed it down with 1.5 liters of water (I’m not joking. My bladder wished I was joking when I got up to pee 14 million times last night) and I ate a banana.

I went to bed a little before 10:30. Jon Stewart was still on TV, totally railing on some dude and I wanted to watch but my body told me it was time to die. So I gave in. It was my time.

That’s when Grim came to visit. He said I was a good little girl to drink all my water and take my Advil and eat that banana. And because I had done those very smart things, he would let me live.

My head told him it was okay to take our soul, we had the Bird Flu and were gonna die soon anyway. I told Head to put a sock in it. Head said she would if I started to call her Harriet like she asked. I don’t understand my head at all.

Grim was very sweet. He rubbed my back while I fell asleep. I asked him if that was some super sekrit soul-stealing technique but he swore it wasn’t. He swore that if I stole his soul, I would know it.

As I drifted off, Grim asked if I planned to do another class. I mumbled something like “Probably,” and Harriet the Head screamed bloody murder. Grim said I might want to take it easy because if I did too many classes, then one night, he might have to pay me a real death-kiss visit.

I might have to take that under advisement.