Tuffy P and I signed up for a “core training” class over at the Assembly Hall. It isn’t the first time and it kind of reminds me of an old joke…the one about two guys from (insert place you want to insult) who go on a bargain cruise and once they’re on ship they’re chained down in steerage with an orr in front of them. There’s a guy with a whip and a guy with a chain and all the passengers are forced to row. At the end of their two week cruise, one guy says to the other guy, “I wonder, are we expected to tip the guy with the drum?” ….and the other guy says, “I don’t know, but I didn’t tip him last year……” ba dum bum. Once again I’m the only guy in the class. It consists of an hour of slow and torturous exercises using weapons of mass destruction such as medicine balls, stability balls and BOSU balls. Sure, I feel fine now, but I know that in a day or so I’m going to have to treat the pain with stiff shots of very good Scotch. Last week I was sore for three days. Ouch.