Friday, November 21, 2008


The highlight of my gym month happened yesterday.

There’s a guy – a bodybuilder – at my gym I can’t stand. Of course, there are at least three dozen guys at my gym I can’t stand. This will come as a surprise to nobody. This particular guy, however, is considered an asshole by people other than me, so you can’t just dismiss this as one of my “things.” It’s real. The guy’s a complete jerkoff.

He once left multiple plates on a bar and walked away. I asked him if he was finished, and he said, “Yeah,” then gave me a dismissive gesture and started walking away.

“Hey,” I called after him. “You gonna take the plates off?”

I think the combination of the look he gave me and the thing he did with his mouth in reply would be called a scoff.

“Whoa,” I said, showing him my palms. “I don’t clean up after you.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dude, I was benching that weight with my cock in seventh grade. You ain’t strong enough to not clean up your shit.”

“Fuck you, then,” he said, and scurried away to the front desk to file his complaint.

I don’t do the gym tough guy thing. I’m wearing headphones from the second I walk in, and I usually don’t even look at anyone, much less concern myself with what they think of me. I know they look, but I don’t care. I’m an athlete, not a gym guy. I’m there to get my shit done, to feel good, and then leave. I very rarely interact with anyone long enough to be considered either an asshole or a “tough guy.” This guy, however, has been rubbing me the wrong way for over a year.

Today, our bodybuilder friend was doing dumbbell rows with one hand on the back of an incline bench. He had that whole exaggerated form thing going on – the way some bodybuilders totally overdo it with regard to “perfect” technique. I’m a stickler for proper exercise form and technique, but this guy takes the concept to entirely new levels of stupidity every time I see him. He was working with 60 pound dumbbells – which, again, I could have hooked around the tip of my cock and rowed in seventh grade. I didn’t say that this time, though. I just tried to ignore him.

He was really going at it, too – making noises, grimacing, and strutting around afterward with his Inflated Lat Syndrome (ILS) puffed out for all of us to see.

The song in the background? Fooling Yourself, by Styx.

Why must you be such an angry young man
When your future looks quite bright to me
And how can there be such a sinister plan
That could hide such a lamb
Such a caring young man

And you're fooling yourself if you don't believe it
Fooling yourself
You're kidding yourself if you don't believe it
Kidding yourself

Get up, get up, get back on your feet
You're the one they can't beat and you know it
Yeah, come on, come on, let's see what you've got
Just take your best shot and don't blow it, whoa-o-oh

This scene reminded me of the time a brawl broke out at the club during the playing of Love is in the Air. We didn’t notice at first, but then John the Cop started yelling about it.

“Love is in the air!” Boom!

“Love is in the air!” Pow!

“Love is in the air!” Slam!

That may have been the highlight of my bouncing career.