Last weekend I found a new love. Yes, the Pirate Queen knows. No she doesn't approve. I don't know why, my new love is clean, pristine, and come with a shiny box; she's all waxed and rarin' to go; what's not to love? This weekend I brought home Wii's EA Active, for some workout fun.
"You said you wanted to spice things up?"
"That's not what I meant."
Needless, but already said, the Pirate Queen was less than thrilled. If thrilled were a lake, then Pirate joy would lie on the bottom next to Fredo watching the dingy of happiness motor away.
I think she's jealous. That's right. I've said it. While I'm getting fit, she's wrestling the green monster. She not jealous of me and my soon-to-be rock-hard abs and walnut-cracking thighs. Nay, nay, she's jealous of my Wii and my alone-time with it's software.
I think she sees the games I'll play with the Wii as a wedge driven between us. Like any other trivial pursuit, I say that that is not possible. Still, I'll keep the peace. I'll only use the EA Active for the power of good when the Queen is not around.
Ix-nay on the ii-Way. I don't think she'll understand.
That's how I started my week: one box of secrets, and one controller to bind them. I wanted to workout. I am the hairy-toed hobbit of the flab, I needed to put the fire to the Shire and peel my Velcro butt from the couch. Monday I began my journey alone. The Active plugged in, the program moved me in ways I didn't expect. I learned what made her game disc so alluring. The Active spoke in a low sexy voice. Her screen avatar a brunette coach with perky breasts coaxing me through each position.
"Lets try walking."
I cowered in the corner. She scared me. She wanted me to do things with her I wasn't comfortable with. Slowly, her sweat pants of seduction coaxed me from my cubby. My dark siren coached me with her "come hither and give me fifty" voice.
Now if you've never had an EA Active, let me tell you, it's better than sex with a ceiling fan--or so I've heard. I'm not a swinger like that. You may disagree. That's fine. I can only answer for me.
My video workout affair began when bought the Wii Fit a year ago. I've been off and on the Wii Fit balance board ever since. I can tell you that I already like the Active program better. The Wii Fit has exercises and will step you through them, but I'm a lazy guy. I like my exercises laid out in predetermined workout plans. It's like being married: tell me what you want; I'll do it. Put me in a house with a lot of "unspoken" chore mines and I'm probably going to choose the couch. Wii Fit and I enjoyed plenty of couch time. EA Active give me lists to complete.
Active has several predesigned workouts that last about 30 minutes (and that doesn't include the time for the training videos. The videos is a great place to hide breaks too. If you like smoking during workouts, the training video is a great place to steal a few drags. "Maybe I should watch that again. I'm not sure I got it, and I'm not down to the filter yet.")
The programs range in intensity and you can set different programs daily, or settle in for a "30 day challenge" anti-nap, where you do a group of exercises predetermined a month in advance. I liked the 30 day challenge. It was a nice length, without asking for too much of a commitment. I've been burned by workouts before. I'm cautious now.
Although I like the Active better than Wii Fit, the really cool thing is with Active, you don't have to choose! That's right. Why have one workout partner when you can enjoy the ménage à trois de Triomphe! EA Active incorporates the Wii Fit into it's exercises.
That doesn't mean you have to do it. There's no pressure. You can enjoy a little one-on-one time, mano-a-machino, if you like it better that way. Still, in some exercises, it's nice to switch things up. It's the difference between punching a heavy bag, and adding kicking, kneeing, and clawing it into submission. For a guy recently divorce, I know which one I like better.
"How do you like that knee Mr. Lawyer?"
The down side of the EA Active is how it reads the controller. The controller is very precise on movements. Unlike Billy Blanks who says, "Good job! Keep it up!" even when you're butt buried into the sofa, feet propped on the ottoman, doing the Doritos curl, the EA Active senses your every move. It's creepy.
"I wouldn't do that, Dave."
"My name is Rob, though."
"One more Dorito and it will be Susan. I've electrified the controller in your pants."
No, she doesn't have me stick the controller in my pants, she does strap my nunchuk to my leg though. No. The Wii nunchuk. Sheesh! What kind of workout do you think this is? No, she's a little dominatrix but she doesn't do anything that. She likes to leave me with some dignity.
"Insert the controller."
"But--"
"That's right."
See she knows exactly what you do with the controller. That's how she makes sure you're doing the exercise. That means that she won't start unless the controller is faced down, and she'll scold you if it's pointed the wrong way during the movement. In this she's like an ex: she won't tell you what you're doing wrong, just that you're not doing it right. I see the sea of divorced bobbleheads right now. You all know what I'm talking about.
The problem for me isn't necessarily the lack of instruction. The problem is while she's yelling at me, I'm still trying to please her. When I achieve the position she wants me to, she continues with her lecture. That means I'm stuck holding the ruptured bovine squat and she won't proceed with the exercise until she's done yelling at me for being wrong to begin with. Yes, once again, if you've been married, you're familiar with this too.
The good thing about EA Active is that the exercises are good, and some incorporate sports: boxing, tennis, baseball, and even dancing. Yeah. I'm a EA Active dance master
"Watch me churn the butter!"
Ok, so I still need help there. The important thing is that I am moving and the EA Active is helping. That's good right? I'm getting a workout every night when I could be sitting on the phone with the queen.
And that is the problem. I'm with my active girl when I'm supposed to be with the Queen. What's worse is that I'm supposed to meet my Queen this weekend but my dominatrix has me tired and sore. I don't know if I can make it.
I woke up this morning and I couldn't move. My muscles are atrophied the size of rubber bands for braces. My new love has left me in a fetal ball whimpering for my mommy. Now I have to call the PQ and tell her so.
"Hey! It's me."
"Hi!"
"Uhm, I can't make it this weekend."
"Why not?"
"You were right. I'm sorry I've been working out. I know it made you mad when I got the EA Active, but I went ahead and used it. Now I can't move."
"I wasn't mad because you were working out. I was mad because you didn't get a second controller for me. I wanted to workout together."
And so now she's coming out to see me. I'm sore, and she's coming to nurse me. I'm glad I worked out, because now I've had my cake I get to eat it too. That's too many calories to swallow.
Still, I feel bad. It's something I do. I get so wrapped up in the experience that I forgot to share it. The Queen was right. My new girl has put a wedge between us. I'm suffering rigor alone when she and I could be suffering together.
"Don't touch me. I hurt."
"I can't. I can't move."
"Good."
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