Just got back from the gym. Holy crap are some people obnoxious.
My jammed toe is still stiff and achy…as is the bruised arch…so I have not been running…but I took a walk to the gym with Rocky, and then walked for an hour or so on the treadmill, just to burn some calories, and did some upper-body-abwork type stuff.
As I was walking on the treadmill, jamming to Rob Zombie (Hellbilly Delux), I became aware of a noise. And by “became aware of” I mean that it drowned out the extremely loud heavy metal music that my iRiver was pumping DIRECTLY INTO MY EARS.
The noise sounded like Chewbacca with his nuts in a vice.
I recognized it immediately as our Community Center’s resident weight-lifter version of a lounge lizard. (Insert “ew” sound effect here).
This guy punctuates many of his lifts with a noise that lets everyone know, in no uncertain terms, that he is lifting something very heavy.
It also has the effect of causing every woman within hearing range of it to turn repeatedly in alarm. Now, they may be turning because it is an in-bred survival response that allowed our ancestors to survive enraged yeti attacks and live to spawn us; but the effect this guy must be after is the fact that while we are looking around trying to figure out which way to jump, we can’t help but see his bulging muscles. But maybe I'm not giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he's trying to selectivly attract the attention of women with a burning obsession for cryptozoology.
Anyway, I continued my habit-trail workout, and Chewie continued to punctuate Cake (Prolonging the Magic) and The Chrystal Meathod (Legion of Boom) and System of a Down (Toxicity). Some were compatible with the sounds of abused Wookie scrotum, and some were not.
Just to be clear, Cake and Wookie scrotum do NOT go together. (Yes, I went there, aren’t you so glad you have an RSS feed?)
Anyway, this is the same guy who I once heard talking to a lady during a between-sets break. She mentioned that she was in her mid forties, and he exclaimed;
“No kidding, I thought you were MAYBE twenty-five!”
OK, granted, this lady does not look her age. I’m thinking early-to-mid-thirties would have been a very nice and also true compliment. But still, yeti man, really…try to have a little subtlety.
Then, he passed the mark.
“How old do you think I am?”
The woman froze, uncertain if she should return the compliment contractually implied in the set-up, or if she should tell the truth.
“Uh…yeah. About 32.”
Dude looks like he’s fifty if he’s a day.
I think I’m going to have to return to my habit of making it to the gym earlier in the day.