Killbot limit expanded

When I got home today I once more took on the task of grappling with the TPC, a yet-to-be-paid for exercise bike semi-sold to me by Casso, a dark-hearted princess whose legions of evil stand poised to sweep across the earth from her faerie kingdom (1).

Recently my doctor told me my previous 21 minutes a day was nowhere near what I needed to do in order to make up for my white collar ways; it seems that regular exercise presumes some during-the-day activity of which us white collar types rarely perform. So he said I had to double it.

It's been a hard trot but two days running I've managed to meet this new 40 minute minimum. Today's viewing poison—watched through my tablet PC so as to take my mind away from the horror of physicality—was the last episode of The Colbert Report featuring the band The Flaming Lips, the episode being flaming awesome. And once that finished then I bunged on an ep of Craig Ferguson's The Late Late Show and watched most of an episode of that. 

Hooray! My Killbot limit has been expanded (2). I didn't get a massive exercise high this time but midway through the ride I did have a tranche of mildly pleasing exertion. Though now, an hour later, the region around my coccyx is somewhat tender and sore. I may have to rub in some numbing gel.

Because, after-all, there's always time for numbing gel (3).

(1) Though due to a problem with scale the entire horde was eaten by a small dog (1a)

(1a) I stole that from Douglas Adams. Suck it, giant science fiction comedy God cruelly cut down in his prime at 49. Actually that makes me sad. Damn it!

(2) Though the intensity of a 40 minute ride will undoubtedly elude me time and time again. I'm only a widdle boy!
(3) Just how awesome is Orlando Jones in that sequence? Comedy gold.