Saturday, August 26, 2006

Antagonistic Characters in a Ballistic World

I've put on four pounds.

Now if I were of normal stature (translation: tall) and normal weight (over 125lbs) this wouldn't be a big dealio.

But four pounds is roughtly 3.25% of my total weight according to my worrisome Windows calculator.

All my clothes are suffocating around my waist. All the angst I've been lugging around in relation to Dialysis is now resting comfortably above my navel and below my A cup breasts.

So I've buckled down. I haven't had fast food in a week and a half. Cut out all sugars. Devoured more blended fruits and vegetables.

And to ensure my impending slimness I've gone back to the gym regularly.

Which is of course where all the trouble started.

Right beneath the giant clock that you can view from anywhere in the club is a list of rules.

Am I a Rule Naxi? Not at all. I have intense distrust and terrible dislike for authority.

But some of the Rules pertain to common courtesy which is something that is severly lacking in the intestinal tract of this country. It's as though an ulcer of self importance has infiltrated the small intestine and is just resting there until it can be expunged my good and common folk.

It probably will never happen.

Here are of the few injustices grunting at my Health Club:

1) Beefy Cro-Magnon Dude

These guys are all very tall and could feed a small remote country if he were maimed and skinned. Which is what I want to do to this idiot every time he leaves 200 lbs. of weight on the machine.

"Excuse me. Are you going to take off your weights?"

I use the most polite voice possible without giving a hint as to my true intention.

Beefy Cro-Magnon Dude stops and looks me up and down and stifled a laugh.

"I don't think so dude."

I start removing the weights myself, bending at the knees so I don't injure myself. I then start talking in what I commonly refer to as Stacy Linguistic Crap. It's basically just a bunch of gibberish I make up on the spot.

This makes Beefy Cro-Magnon Dude very angry. He struts back and for whatever reason sticks out his chest and flexes for a few moments while his mind attempts to comprehend what I've just said.

As I'm removing the last 45 pound weight, I translate.

"I just told you to fuck off in four different languages."

One thing you should know about me: when I feel like crap my "Give a Damn" goes right out the window.

Yes, it gets me into trouble.

I start to place two twenty-five pound weights on the shoulder pull and get into position to lift.

"You little fucker. I could kick your ass with one hand."

"I'm sure your one hand is what you spend most of your time with."

Inside I'm rolling on the floor laughing. I enjoy toying with idiots.

"Listen 'Dude'. Have some consideration for other people and take off your weights next time."

It's all about attitude. Attitude can impress or regress depending on your age and the situation.

Case in point: Beefy Cro-Magnon Dude just stood there fuming while I worked out.

I ignored him.

Eventually he just walked away. I've averted a pummeling for another day.

2) Prissy Wannabe Hot Chick

There are women off all shapes and sizes at my Health Club and many of them are neckish.

The Stacy Dictionary defines "Neckish" as:

"Neckish" (verb)

1) A luscious woman with short hair or hair tied up in a ponytail displaying her neck for all to appreciate.

2) A woman with a perfectly aligned neck, suitable for "neckin'"

3) An attitude of neckishness.

When I hold eye contact for more than a few seconds as I pass by, I'll occasionaly feel like saying "hello."

The Prissy Wannabe Hot Chick rolls her eyes and frequently exhales that "this guy has to be kidding" laugh.

These women are why derogatory terms were invented.

Civility delivers the unspoken rule that you smile back as a common courtesy and then quickly look away. This keeps the Freakish Fawning Flirt from gaining strength and commenting on the size of your, well, you know.

I still despise them though.

3) Sweaty Obese Schlub

Excuse me? Sweaty Obese Schlub? I understand you're trying to make an effort to lose weight. I commend you on that. I was fat for a year after my first kidney transplant and kids can be cruel, so I have some understanding of what you're going through.

When you take all the effort to actually use a weight or cardio maching, you'd think that since you had enough motivation to get some exercise, you'd also do the same for your Sweaty Obese Schlub Sweat.

Maybe I'm just anal retentive, but I take off all my weights AND I grab a paper towel and clean the seating area.

It's common courtesy. Hold on, let me retype that.


Good luck on your weight loss Sweaty Obese Schlub. I'm rooting for you. Just not near you.

4) Orgasmic Grunting Goon

You know these guys, they inhabit EVERY SINGLE HEALTH CLUB IN THE COUNTRY.

They're preening and usually name their muscles. Their breasts are bigger than most enhanced women.

And after placing 50 pounds more than they can actually lift, they start making those obscene sounds.

You know. The kind your hear emanating from college dorm rooms late at night when Cinemax is airing their After Dark shows.

Only louder. And more obnoxious.

These guys have nothing else going on in their self-important little lives so they create these animalistic grunts in the hopes that a member of the female species will be attracted to their annoying vocal intonations.

By the way, yes, I am bias. Women are allowed to make as many orgasmic grunts as they wish when lifting.

This concludes my uncensored rant on those who inhabit my Health Club. If, after reading, you find yourself sharing personal traits with any of the above individuals, I implore you to cut it the fuck out.

Thank you and good night.