Conversations that happen when you try to talk over too loud 80s rock while getting dressed for a night at the Bulls

Him "I had some ramen but I can't find it now."
Me: "Ramen?"
Him "Money. I can't find my money."
Pause.
Me: "I liked ramen better."

Hall of Gym Weirdness

A long while ago, I wrote about the different gym archetypes. This was, of course, before I have become one of the parodies. But this entry isn't about my cliches, it is about the other freakshows at the gym.

Notre Dame Guy. He is by far the scariest and perhaps smelliest of all of the Ballys' patrons. He looks like a homeless guy -- stringy hair, washes clothes in the sink, dries his underwear on the hand dryer, mutters to himself, and then when he sees himself in the mirror he will point at himself and start yelling. In a crazy way. I have subsequently seen him in the Jewel by my house (I suppose even people off their medication have to go grocery shopping). He reeks of stale-person smell, which just gets amplified when he gets wet. Which happens a lot since he spends his time in the shower and locker room, not actually in the workout part of the gym. To top off all of the oddness, most of his clothes are emblazoned with the Notre Dame logo.

Then there was a guy who, right in the middle of vigorously lathering his genitals, said in a chirpy, friendly tone, "Hey, How's it goin'?" as I left the showers. I just nodded to acknowledge I heard the question and kept on going. The weird part of of this is not that he was lathering his genitals and talking, because, hey, this is Boystown Ballys', but the fact that he wasn't turgid and the fact that he asked the question in the exact same way that you would waiting in line for coffee. I can deal with strokers; I can deal with chit chat, but chit chatting strokers, that is where I draw the line.

[I will only titilate you on the borderline sexual things that people do on a regular basis, like the guy that blow-dried his hair within in an inch of its life while standing completely naked in front of a mirror. Or the guy that slathers his body down with baby oil after a shower. Or the guy that wears a purple thong around the locker room. Or there is the guy that wears shorts so short that, um, well, that image isn't too pretty. Nevermind -- this is what happens when titilation goes wrong.]

There is all sorts of poseur activity, which I classify as weirdness. For example, people should not wear light-blue tinted sun-glasses at the gym. Ever. Or people shouldn't wear clothes that they don't want to get sweaty in.

Of course, that smashing sound you hear in the background is me in my delicate glass house throwing the first stone. But I can take it as much I can dish it -- I wear white gym socks that go up around my calves, but attempt to wear something that won't clash. I definitely sweat when I work out. I don't really care about lumpy hair in the morning, but I do chew gum because dragon breath is no fun for anyone. And, yes, I do watch myself workout in the mirrors. But that is what they're there for right?

I'll take Shadoe Stevens to Block!

Ok, so the Wheel of Fortune is up. Yesterday, I got the call to work out a promotion with Hollywood Squares.
So in the process of working out this promotion (a minor on-line game), has generated a flood of old memories. Like Shadoe Stevens, Tim Conway, Alf, Whoopi Goldberg (who I found out researching the blog was the producer of the show for 4 years), and of course, Jim J. Bullock!

Ah, memories of squandered adolescence!

So who are Today's Squares?
Kathy Griffin!
Isaach Hayes
French Stewart!
Gilbert Godfrey!
Ariana Huffington!
And the center square is.... Alec Baldwin! Oh, how the hirsuite have fallen.

(There are other people I didn't recognize like: Elon Gold, Roshumba Williams, and John Sally... Go figure.)

(Oh yeah, and Henry Winkler picked up being producer after Whoopi)

Hot crossed buns

So, in the bowels of the new Crunch fitness (formerly Bally's on Orleans), we saw a posting for Slavercise.
Yeah. Um.
No Comment.

Too many entries.

I have urge to split this into lots of smaller blog entries and fudge the time stamps to make you think that I was really keeping my blog up to date like Casey but I haven't been. Oddly enough, when I am feeling somewhat guilty about letting my blog flounder, I don't read other people's blogs. It seems wrong to benefit from someone else's work when you aren't pulling your share.

I will cover some highlights, working in reverse chronological order.

• I forgot my pants at home today. Normally this would only come out of the mouth of someone like Otto but it happens to me. I wore shorts to kickboxing and left my pants on the table on a hanger. So I had to buy track pants at the studio to avoid showing off thigh. (You try being completely coherent at 5 am in the morning.)


• The client yo-yo is back up. I have gotten more zen about the situation, the last blog post not withstanding, understanding that the wheel of fortune rotates faster than my washer on spin cycle. My ego just shrugged.


• I had a great weekend in Cleveland. No, really. My friend Patrick has recently moved to Oberlin, OH and felt a little too isolated in the cornfields. It just so happens a good friend of mine Jeff was born and raised in Cleveland, so I persuaded Jeff to go on a road trip. We took Friday off, hopped in my car, and schlepped through rain so bad, I felt like I was driving behind a sprinkler. We hijacked Patrick, waiting ever so patiently for his captors, at Java Zone. From a parking spot near his office, we toured the quads.
  
  Our weekend trip happened to coincide with Drag Ball, the big gender bending bash. And in a college where photos of large strawberries make the front page of the paper (no joke), this is a big deal. But Patrick would have looked awful in a dress.
  
  In Clevelend, we went out to a great dinner at Lola's a terrific restaurant, meeting a small cast of Jeff's friends. Our hosts were amazing. Mike and Bob went out of their way to make us feel welcome in not only their city but in their home. It was a great introduction into the city.
  
  The next day, we trekked over to Joe's place, then to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with a great U2 exhibit. (You can find your own damn links to those two.)
  
  In stead of a rowsing night out, we crashed after eating steaks bigger than our faces.
  
  The drive home wasn't nearly as painful as the drive there. Thank God.
  
  I had a great time.
  


• Cars. I am irrationally fixed on them right now.
  
  
  
  1. The new BMW 5 series.
  
  
  2. The new FX 45
  
  
  3. Spy shots of the new BMW 6 series
  
  
  4. The hot (?!?) new Volvo S60-R
  
  
  
  I think as much as it makes sense for me to keep my car when my lease is up, I doubt I am going to be in the mood.


• Oh! and I almost forgot! I finished off All is Not Lost and Fight All is Not Lost is the slow disc, Fight is the faster one. If I forgot anyone, please e-mail me at the normal coordinates.
  

Look! It's 9:15 pm. Time for me to go to bed!
I don't want the other 8 year olds to beat me.