Sick Again! FML!

Keeping active even when you’re sick means you’re beyond the masses of the average. That’s what I’m holding onto.

A developing stuffy nose turn runny came about in my life roughly 4 days ago.   Then, all of a sudden, my nose seemed to clear up quite a bit and a little tickle would sneak up at the back of my throat.  First I was sneezing just  like those fucks who suffer from allergies.  Then it turn from a faint cough to a non-stop hacking cough. (Just earlier today, I got off the train in the morning for being so embarrass coughing next to the the man on the train. I took a cab to work after. Let’s just say it brought childhood school memories. ;))  First  the cough was dry. Then phlegm. My voice sounds quite beautiful breaking and cracking like Justin Bieber‘s puberty phase. 🙂

At the first sign of any sickness that appears within my body, I trip the fuck out worse than smoking/drinking and getting hypnotized by strobe-lights. I go almost into a state of depression where I’m at a lost for thoughts and short-term memory.  I suspect this would have something to do with and obstacle getting in between me and my workouts and having a paranoia condition like, well, the phobia: Emetophobia. I truly have a fear of being sick. I just don’t know if I grew into this or if I always had this within me  and it was just properly secluded as the depths of my lusty being.

My body has been trying to become sick since January. I’m sure after I knocked off a small sinus infection, it didn’t  help that I had food poisoning right after.  So I can only assume some bacteria was floating around still. And I probably didn’t give myself enough rest from hard workouts in between. We are finishing February in a mere day.. we’ll be heading into March. So, excuse me, if I seem to be fucking pissed off all the time lately! I don’t like when life, stress, family, relationships, sex or sickness plays a part/obstacle coming in between me and my workouts.

What gets me is right now is I shouldn’t be sore from the aches and pains all over my body from this my hacking cough. I should be sore from my own doings, my own training sessions, my own physical sickness I DO. And it sucks because there’s always that decision to make: Do I workout anyway with what’s going on, knowing I can make it worse over time? Do I take it easy and make sure to get some active rest by just doing low intensity cardio? Or do I rest completely and not even look at fitness links/video/magazines to kickstart my adrenaline?

My favorite also is when people tell me, “Oh don’t workout, just relax your body!” And though, I want to take heed in what they’re saying. I have to go according to what I can deal with. I can’t go according to the average folk who barely likes to workout from the get go. They’re always searching for a way to get out their own workouts with the leading example: Being Sick. I’m not one of those. I workout when I’m sick, on my period, when my finger was fucked up and in a stint, doesn’t matter.

But how do I know when I’m pushing too far?


Always Nice


Dedicated to Mr. Egyptian


It’s always nice when you go out with someone and it never appears there will be an inkling or a static of an unnatural intention involved.

It’s always nice when you meet with someone new.  There’s nothing to resolve.  No past that comes forth looking to dissolve.  Despite your calling ahead and showing up late, they give you the sweetest shining smile anyway from a distance.  I call this coexistence.  And this is why the beginning days are always the best with it’s surefire insistence.  One can see such happiness glitter.. pure disco.. imaginations run like electric pistols zapping out crystals.. and something happens, a tremendous high on human interaction that may or may not fall into the
abstraction of profuse attraction.

To have them stretch out their arm and surprise you with a chocolaty pink-hearted Valentine’s bag is rather unexpected.  And in this moment both of you are interconnected.  So you thanked and smiled and quickly reflected on how you were affected.  Then tried to play it off as if you werent’ especially eager to dip a hand inside to see and notice the blush hit your feet:  A black and white plush cat with big beady eyes like frogs gazing up at you like home.  It was enough to tickle your funny bone.  (But still you wonder how did he realize you adore cats.  What gave it away?  And why is he giving you foreplay?)

It’s always nice when you go out with someone and you can relax about how the evening goes like poetry or prose.  Stories from which way and well into Morocco dinner makes conversations and expressions real lottery winners.  You dig the way he spoils you rotten with a variety of food:  Lamb, Chicken, Yellow rice, Eggplant & Arabic Tea.  How he makes sure to hold the doors open for you even if it means running for it with a mischievous glee.  Or how he walks you back through the busy avenues across to catch the noisy train.  And the brain becomes aflame when you learn expectations aren’t to be found, in a kiss or standing close to one another, like an indicated lover, where inches of your faces fuck close,
like interlocking hands. 

And you both understand, the depths in which adults cry out in constant demands.  But you and him speak in silence, in your right of freedoms without plans.  The night goes on without him and of course, you enjoyed yourself.  You pulled him in and say, “Give me a hug!”  Yet with the stutter pause of awkwardness, both of you’s felt like dead bugs.  So you pecked his cheek and watched him light as a spark plug on a new lease.  It was what it was meant to be.  A beautiful innocent night full of what could be.

We all need more of these.


I Can Be A Bitch @ The Gym!

And frankly, I don’t give a fuck!

Surely, I feel bad for the females and males that want to come up to me and ask me a million training tips.  I feel their aura.  I saw that young lady watching me down to when I wrote every exercise, reps and notes I jotted.  I sense their puppiness.  And I certainly want to reach out towards them (and there are times when I do), but I can’t afford to let my guard down when I have  already built my shield of steel, ready to zero in focus and gearing to get the GAME FACE up to PLAY!

See, when you step into the Weight Room area, it’s not for the faint of heart.  You have to step right up and steal the limelight like a rapper to a mic.  The Weight Room Area shouldn’t be for Beginners.  It would make them a bit insecure and by all means intimidated.  And if you’re saying, everyone has to start somewhere?  Well, that’s where the Nautilus machines come in.  I, completely understand their fears and concerned questions..and as much as I would love to care for most of the beginners and take them under my wing, there’s always somebody to fill in that spot.

The Weight Room Area isn’t intended for those women who are too busy picking up light weights hoping to God it’s going to do  something like get better Tricep shape or lose fat.  I can tell they suck because there’s no proper form, no feeling, no fucking meaning like having sex with your homely husband!  It’s simply a flail of lazy arms “going through the motions” so to speak.  However, my favorites are those folks who fail to write a program out from the get go.  So they’re immobile like a deer in headlights looking at the dumbbells like it’s their first pair of boobs…*scratches head* ..”where do I start?”.. “what do I do with it?”

They could get out my way as I take Center Stage! 😉

Being that men are assholes, especially in the weight room… I’m a fucking bitch!  And if someone asks me to jump in when I’m already on a machine and I allow their presence in my steel aura…then.. I must be in a great fucking mood, or the guy came off nice and asked in a pleasant way or that guy is good-looking/has a big butt or I’m not going in for that day’s circuit training regimen.  So, again, since men are destined to be assholes, I can certainly be a bitch.  Which reminds me, just the other day…

There was a bench open.  I quickly analyzed and saw that someone had called “dibs” on it from the looks of their 115lb dumbbells, keys and cellphone.  Of course, no one was physically there to claim it, right!  And well, I knew a big guy was going to be coming around as soon as I’m about to call it mine.  And what do you know?

A giant Caucasian man comes by says:
“I’m using that.”
I said:
“Are you now?  You weren’t here just a minute ago.”
He says:
“I was drinking water.”
*I roll my eyes.*
Then he says:
“You can jump on and use the bench with me.”
And a third guy behind the back of me, obviously wants no trouble of any kind says:
“You can take my bench.  No worries.”
I said:
“No.  No worries.  I won’t take none, but this one”…
*pointing to the one right to the left of me*


Because truth was I wanted to start shit for the hell of it.  I blame it on the Testosterone.  But, I didn’t need to pick that bench.

Many men find me annoying in the gym.  Many men try and put me down when they get the chance and tell me stupid shit like:  “You’re going to be bigger than a man” and “Females don’t look right with lots of muscle.” (Mind you, Is till have loads of fat on my body!)  Many men do their best to intimidate me with their solid grill football masks and indomitable aura.  I shake them off with my eyes, with a head nod, with a shrug, with my own Pennington Hall’s manic eyes and clench fists in combination of a workout that’s intense by 10, going harder in their FACE!  I’m not some pussy ass broad.  I have bigger Outer Lips, then men have balls!

So, does their intimidation factor work?   HELL NO!  I have Pride.  I have Ego.  I know how to play and Don being an Asshole.  I know how to make shit work for me.  I know how to outsmart the players in the field.  I know how to get my way.  And because of all this, by far, it’s the best to KNOW how to WIN.

I’m in it always..and this bitch ain’t going anywhere.



I see the stars shining off their own rewards.
I see the glimmers, endless with hope, lost in space.

Within me a hunger grows out of line.
And in my mind, I travel, but, with a different face.

There no longer exists a perfectionist’s heart,
Nor a perpetual run with a disciplinary ancient art.

But a feeling, unknowable, quite like a stranger’s hand.
A devastation, trembles my soul, of a target perhaps missed.

Of a sun wiped away off the surface without a plan.
A clenched fist, I persist, but what if I’m on a waiting list?



Where’s my journey?

Where am I heading?

Can I pretend  to change my mind?

Though, I know it will show.

In logic.  Or In time.

There are times, even,

when they can always tell

about the lies, about wrinkles and lines

in the round of your face.


And the wind comes again

under the hairs of my neck

and my spirits come alive

like smoke rising high

How bad do I want it?


I’m Back: Beast Mode!

First I had a sinus infection.
Then food poisoning.
Then internet got cut off for two whole weeks.

Now I’m back! 😉

And now what do I mean exactly by Back?.. It simply means Ms. Pennington is on Beast Mode!  Beast Mode has always been a burly on switch of my mental and physical game that pushed beyond the last phase of my few month training.  So pushing and training as hard as I possibly can for 2 months.  Sometimes it requires doing what’s necessary!  Other times, not what’s necessary or particularly what’s in my best interest for my mind, body and the irritation or peacefulness of my soul.

However Beast Mode means going: Full force!!  Barely any rest days.  Being on ferocious octane, turbo, gas, go, go, go and keeping activity between 2 or 3 times a day (resistance, cardio, plyometrics, etc).  No such thing as rest for the one who plans to be wicked.  Nor for the ones who embark on a mission, on a passionate goal, thriving on a whole new energy to feed. Who needs a day off?  Who needs rest? What is death for? It’s for eternal sleep. And Beast Mode doesn’t comprehend what makes people average. Beast Mode doesn’t rationalize or buy out bargains with excuses. Though, I digress!

Why Beast Mode last for up to 2 months?  Because it seems my body starts to go through the “burn out” phase during the last few weeks of the second month.  SO much SO that my subconscious starts giving me dreams of fire!  Hence “burning out!”  And that’s my cue to lay back just a little bit or even refresh myself entirely by taking a couple of days off only to come back stronger and much more harder then ever.

I believe in taking things to the next level every chance I get!

Because after all the Training Life is about pushing it beyond your mental, physical, emotional or questionable limits.  Why have any funky doubts when the Beast is ON and YOU can just GO for it!


My Apologies

To the folks who have been reading my blogs, my thoughts and like what I have to say.  Unfortunately, my internet, cable and phone is out in the house.

At the moment, I’m stealing internet connection. I feel so rude about it. But I, at least, had to write this. This should be fixed soon. So peek your head around every now and then.  I’ll be back in no time…I hope!!! 😉


Life Seems Pretty Boring

When I don’t workout!!

I, honestly, don’t know how people go through their lives numb off denial, drugs and alcohol, how people go on auto-pilot, living like zombies for their mediocre job and silly titles.  I don’t know how people can come back home and mindlessly eat right in front of the television and call it relaxation.

When I’m immobile, when I’m resting, when I have a day off, when my brain doesn’t have a window open processing information, surely it’s suppose to be relaxing.  But I don’t believe in relaxing because it’s the closest thing to death there is.

I would find my life SO boring!!

I’ve been doing my best to not hit the gym since my body has endured so much stress in the last few days.  It’s officially now 5 whole fucking days!!!!!  And I feel like I’m dying for Christ Sake’s!  I have fever blisters on my lips, letting me know how fabulous it is to fucking have the body stress under critical conditions.  The lymph nodes are the only things truly stopping me from doing a short and rather intense workout at home.  I seem to know better when anything is swollen in my body.  *rolls eyes*

Just last night I have these Fear Dreams where I guess deep down inside my subconscious is letting me know just how I’m truly feeling about all these days of not being physically active.  It was quite interesting how in my dreams I started my Ipod and went to work.  But it seemed the 35lbs weight were too heavy for me to pick up.

I was frowning in seclusion so no one would see the frustration building up within me.  Tears were being held back.  And it seemed like every time I was going to get ready to pick up the set of dumbbells and get a set in, someone I knew came my way to interrupt me.  It felt like everything was brand new all over again.  And I was lost just like a beginner.  And the next thing I know, I wasn’t able to complete any workout.  So I went to school.

This will never happen!  But this is a reflection.  Thanks dream!


This is Oh So Boring!

I scratch my head and wonder how the hell people don’t find the heart and the adrenaline to fill their bodies up for what they were designed to do: MOVE!


Truth Foreplay

I get tired of having the same conversation and knowing I’m not going to get anywhere by showing, demonstrating, pinpointing, stating, referring, linking and whatever have you to this word called:  Foreplay.  It’s pretty basic stuff.  All one has to do is keep keen and consider all notions and stylize them into brilliant state of the art masterpieces.  Sounds difficult already, doesn’t it?

The only thing making it difficult are the men who choose to live and listen to what other men have to say about foreplay.  HELL, most women are still trying to figure out what foreplay is because they never received it in the first place.  *Questions:  Where’s my imaginary gun?*  *shoots brains*  To give it to you straighter than a Grey Goose Label:  Foreplay isn’t something you do to get sex.  Foreplay isn’t a manual or God‘s blueprint to get vagina.  Foreplay isn’t a guarantee or a free pass to getting any creampies.  Foreplay has nothing to do with sex!  PERIOD!  I don’t care what you agreed to when you were younger.

Foreplay is something only real men partake in, to make sure they’re ahead of the enterprise at all times.  Foreplay’s about being a magician and knowing when and how to wield the magic wand so that everyone is satisfied with the game called Life.  Foreplay’s marketing.  Foreplay’s status.  Foreplay shall always be funky fresh and innovative.  Why?  Because this allows the wages to be place high due to your hard work, million gifted and honed abilities!  Those skills first being:  Time, Effort, Dedication, Discipline, Art, Seduction, Wisdom, Experience and by far.. Intuition.. all rolled into one has brought nothing but your best foot forward, your finer character and confidence forward.  That’s foreplay.

Many men lack foreplay because:  1.  They aren’t confident (and if I were a man it would be hard to be confident. ;))  2. They believe foreplay involves getting sex.  3.  The lack of dedication to studying women as a whole is lacking.

And there are no excuses except that most men would rather watch hours of television (that by the way gives you billions upon billions of wrong way and impressions to go about foreplay just so the system can benefit from humans and their emotional turmoils), play hours of video games and prefer studying the plays on the next Football game.  (Oh, this sounds a lot like men just want to play and not put in any effort?  😉 )  So rather then men take the time to study the know how’s and efficient approaches to getting what they ultimately desire:  A woman.

So many men around the world would rather be comfortable and not shed any ridicule, rejection, embarrassment or humiliate themselves in front of THEMSELVES!  Instead they rather be comfortable in their comfort, under their parents comfort abode, watch comfort porn and have comfort sex with their comfort hand. Hey, listen, don’t bitch, complain and whine to me about why you’re so lonely and will be alone for the rest of your life.  I mean, you gave all that shit up for Comfort.  What else could be wrong? 😉