Just Saying
I will admit it openly: I need Camp Panda.
Not that I’m some horribly overweight guy hanging out in the basement of a parental unit (I mean, really, who builds basements in landfill?). But it was kind of fun knowing there was at least one major leaguer as roly poly as I was. Am.
And now he’s not.
The good thing is that Camp Panda is very accessible. The first thing you need is a former gold medalist to run you through your paces. Then workout with some Division I-A football players. And then, work out two times a day, six times a week. Then, get a chef to prepare six meals a day.
Pretty easy.
The six-figure paycheck to find the time to do all that probably helps, but eh, I’m sure I can manage it.
So I’m going on Camp Panda this season….eventually. Does interrupting a 15-minute stairmaster session with a stop at the front desk to flirt with the girl there count as working out twice a day? Oh, and six meals a day? Good thing I’ve got a couple of chefs I have access to who work cheap. One’s Scottish, but the other’s from down south. Kentucky, or something.
This’ll be a snap!
