You double time

After being thoroughly ruined by many sopapillas, take out dinners, a happy hour involving many cheeses, and a Denver's Next Top Model party fueled by a champagne bar, I decided I should probably hit the gym. I've been going to these especially hard classes lately because the teacher is insane with the fitness and you can't really be around someone like that without some of it rubbing off on you, right? She is constantly demonstrating ridiculously difficult things and then just as I'm starting to think I might die from jumping up and down onto a step doing squats, she'll be all, "Double time, let's go!" At that point, I have to fight the urge to pass out while she becomes a blur of tanned muscles and enthusiasm. Today was no exception, and the torture came in the form of holding the bosu ball above our heads...while running in place. Let's just say I don't expect to have full use of my arms again any time soon.

Back to the Denver's Next Top Model party for a second: that shit was fun. I basically invited all my friends over to play models, and they did it. I am apparently 8-years-old. One of the best parts was getting to wear the fake hair and waist-cinching belt that Zoe brought so I could properly mimic Tyra's look. Max wouldn't wear the belt, but he rocked the hair pretty good.