Thoughts, Philosophy, Life and Love

Category: Humor Page 2 of 3

Observations: In line at the Grocery Store

Have you ever really paid attention to the things people buy, and in what combination, when you are at a grocery store?

My first realization that this could have any entertainment value was several years ago when I suddenly realized that I was in line with a bag of water balloons, strawberry jello, whip cream and panty hose.  Wait… it gets worse… I was sixteen and when I got to the counter, the clerk made the comment, “Fun time planned for tonight?”  I laughed, having pretty much no clue what the meaning of his comment was until I got home that night and explained to my mother what was said.

OK… everything except the pantyhose were for my little brother’s birthday… the panty hose were because my mom tore the only pair that she had left and needed me to get her another pair for work.  I was the one that had to go to the store for her and buy them.  Not something that is fun for a teenager that is already having problems getting in with the girls at school.

Since that time, the process of watching what other purchase has been a hobby of mine.  Not something that I dedicate a lot of time to, but I do make it a point to pay attention to others in line when I am at the checkout counter.

There are varying classes of these buying mistakes that people make.  I am sure that 90% of them are purely coincidentally, but I am sure that there are those last 10% that are as the result of some sinister plan.  Some act of creative fetishism that springs beyond the scope of the normal.

I will cover some of the things that I recall seeing here.  I will also try to give one or two possible reasons for the purchases to be made in that combination.

  • The Nervous Vegan -   I recall a time when I was in line behind a woman who had a shopping cart full of fruits and vegetables.  She also had some other minor kitchen items as well, but towards the end of her unloading her cart and the only reason that I even took note of her in the first place was the event that raised my eyebrows.  She lifted a bag of cucumbers out of the cart and placed in on the belt.  A moment or two later, she placed a tube of KY Jelly on the belt and immediately covered it with a magazine.

OK… So maybe that one was a little too obvious.  Who knows, maybe there was a logical reason for the two items that had nothing to do with what I, and maybe you, were thinking.  Maybe she was going to make cucumber salad that night and also had plans with her beau.

  • The Heavy Metal romantic -  Sometimes what I see is a little less clandestine.  The person buying the items is pretty much telling the world what he or she has planned right of the mark.  Like the person I saw in a Super WalMart in Gilroy, once.  When I got to the counter, there was a gentlemen who was, based on the clothes and the piercings, obviously a little bit into the punk/rock/etc scene.  His selection for that days purchase was a pair of silk boxers, an AC/DC DC, bottle of cheap wine and a box of condoms.  There is little doubt was this guy had in mind.  Let’s just be glad he was playing safely.

I tend to find the most amusing things I see like this are in the mega stores.  The places like the Super WalMarts, Heartland Target Stores and the like.  You have so much selection in these places that it is just a matter of time before you see something that makes you laugh or just really wonder.

  • The Would Be Babysitter – Of the ones I have seen, this is my favorite, unfortunately while I can recall most of what this person bought, I cannot recall what store it was at.  The person in front of me had what looked like all the makings for a fun day at a children’s day care.  Lots of coloring books and crayolas.  A few toys and some balls.  Even a couple “whiffle balls and bats” so that we could tell that there was a “Whiffle Ball” game in the near future for someone.  Then, when I saw toward the bottom of the flatbed he was pushing, I noticed about 100 feet of nylon rope and at least two sets of the electronic dog collars.  You know, the ones that shock the dog if it gets too far from the house or to stop them from barking.  If you were to ask me… they are perfect items for a Daycare.
  • The Evil Bartender – Saw this in a Von’s grocery store a couple if years ago shortly before New Years Day.  A young lady had a cart full of liquor and mixers for what looked like it was going to be a great party.  Rum, Vodka, Tequila, then there was the fruits and other items.  At the end, when the cart was almost empty, she placed two bottles of Drano on the belt, some cat food and a bottle of bleach.   I am not sure that this is a party I would want to attend after all.
  • Dangerous Lonely Housewife – Again, at a Von’s.  Lady in front of me buys a Ladies Home Journal, Us, People and another rag, then puts a bottle of Vodka, lemons and beer on the belt.  Why is it that I had mental pictures of this lady sitting on toilet, doing shots and reading her magazines, all while crying about something that happened to her.
  • From the “Honorable Mention in Love” category – Saw a guy once with a frozen pizza, six pack of beer and a “I’m Sorry” card.
  • From the “How not to say I Love You” Category – Again in the grocery store… guy buys a butcher knife, box of plastic garbage bags and a dozen roses.  I read the news papers for about a week after that one, looking for something that might have fit the image I had in my head.

These are just a few items.  I am sure that, when you think about it, you will see these.  If you never did before, hopefully this article will fire up that funny little section of your brain that will now start making these associations when you see the person in front of you in line at the store.  Now you might take note and realize that there might be something more to THAT story!

If you happen to run into a situation like this or something that you would like to share, please do so.

Reflections on another Christmas past…

Alright… did someone get the license plate number from that truck that hit me?

Oh…  Wait, that was just Christmas and New Years day…  Never mind.

This last Christmas was interesting.  While people everywhere were touting that this was going to be a bad season because of the economy, that did not seem to stop too many people from shopping their hearts out.

Since Naty and I decided to spend our holiday money on joining in to buy yarn for her mother, Lydia Ayers, so that she could crochet hats and scarves for the local American Cancer Society, we did not get to truly experience the holiday cheer of others.  That glorious feeling of going to a store with a couple thousand other people all with that feverish, almost maniacal, quest for the perfect gift, that just happens to be the same thing that everyone else wants.  You know the one… the Miley Cyrus/Hanna Montana gift set with the complementary self esteem killer for girls of all ages.  The racially neutral GI Joe with non-lethal weapons and his United Nations K-Y Jelly.  The politically correct Trivial Pursuit where every answer is the right one, simply because you tried.

Anyway…  Our only experience with the holiday shopping was our forays into the grocery stores.  You see, I like to bake… yes, me… not my wife.  I am a guy that likes to cook…  get over it.  In the stores, there was nothing but people… wall to wall people… looking for everything.

I am not a pleasant shopper.  I can only deal with large groups of people for so long before I start turning into an a$$hole.  There is no other way to say it, so there it is…  That is me.  When you combine two of the things I hate the most, shopping and large clusters of people, then you are looking at me changing into a person that no one, not even my loving wife, wants to be around.

I made no trips to the malls or the department stores this last season, not even for the great post-holiday holocaust that is called a After Christmas sale.  There was just no way that I could deal with the crowds without looking at some mandatory jail time.

Maybe it is my age, but it seems as though this time of year is losing it’s appeal to me.  It is hard for me to find anything truly enjoyable in it anymore that has not been exploited by commercial entities to the point where there is almost no fun in it anymore.  Even Hanukkah is being commercialized more and more, though not nearly as bad as Christmas.

In short, and finally, this is why when people ask me, I tell them that my favorite holiday of the year is Halloween.  I truly think that Halloween is the most fun day of the year… there are no gifts, there is little fanfare, and we get to see into the heart of what people see themselves as.

It’s the end of the world…

If you read this Blog enough, you know that I am not a big fan of most things TV related.  I will watch Discovery, History, Sci Fi (More on this later) and some of the other channels out there that I list as the few salvations to the art.

This being said, sometimes there is a show on Network TV that I do like.  Amonst these I will list CSI:Las Vegas, My Own Worst Enemy and the occasional episode of Cheaters (Yes… my one indulgence into depravity.)

There is another show that I try not to watch, only because I do not want to break my quota of Network exposure and that is the program called Criminal Minds.  It is actually a well written show and the cast is strong, but I hate the idea that I might get locked down to another program that will keep me stuck in front of a known radiation hazard occupying my living room.  I will fail to mention that I have a larger one in my office that I use to play XBOX 360, but I do so enjoy hypocrisy.

My title of this particular post is not to say that the world is ending because it is getting harder for me to not have an excuse to vacate the living room when this show comes on.  You can only use the “I have to go to the bathroom” excuse so many times in a given hour before your wife makes an appointment with an urologist for you.

No… it is because tonight I saw something that has shaken my world to the core.  Something that, when I saw it, I needed to use the good old rewind feature on my DVR to make sure that I saw it.  The character name “Hotch” SMILED.  Yes… I know.  Upon seeing this, I immediately checked to see if my Lotto tickets were winners… then I realized it was Monday night… and I then realized that I do not play the Lotto.  So I checked to make sure that there were no obvious signs of the apocalypse.

On the few… rare occasions that I have seen this actor in other shows… namely that atrocity of a program that my wife watched religiously called Dharma and Greg, I have never seen the man smile.  He has always appeared to be a walking, talking Prozac commercial… for when it does not work.  Then this.

There are few things in life that leave me thinking… “OK… I thought I saw everything!”  But this was one of those times.

With all the strange and new things happening this fall… the only thing that could top it off and send me over the edge is to find out Barak Obama is actually George Bush’s long lost brother from a pairing of George H.W. Bush and Grace Jones.

OK… That was all I had to say this evening… so I am out of here.

The Typecasting of Men…

In the event that I have been asleep for some length of time and just not noticed… in some comatose state that has kept me from noticing this pre-Huxlian world we seem to be moving towards in which men are subservient and docile, I need to ask an important question.  At least it seems important to me at the moment that I am writing this.

Why are men cast, in much of the media today, as idiots, morons or just plain stupid?  I will be the first to point out that there are many out there that are, and the rest of us just have our moments from time to time.  But then again, name ANY woman that can not also fit into that description.

The point that I REALLY started noticing these things was when Carl’s Jr. started on what I can only call their “Moron Men” commercials.  You have seen them… they are the ones that usually portray the man standing in the meat section with that “deer-in-the-headlights” look, staring at the meat like someone saved up a week and took a dump in the refrigerated section.  The latest one in this assault on intelligence is the one with the “Pretty-boy” standing in the kitchen trying to make guacamole by putting a whole avocado in the blender and setting in on the lowest setting possible.  The resulting effect is a guy standing there with a dumb look on his face while the avocado bounces around inside the blender… then closes with him trying to bite into the avocado.  Unless he is a refugee from the short bus, and I think even they are smarter than that, no one would try and eat an avocado like that.

OK…  To be fair, this is not the first time that I commercial campaign has gone after people by exploiting the intelligence factor.  Mostly, in the past, it was aimed towards women, and I did not care for it then either.  Granted… now and again… it is funny.  The current trend is at the point where the joke is getting old already.

Unfortunately it does not stop with just the commercials, it has also spread to other media as well.  It seems like comic strips, TV shows and other media, even Radio commercials, have gotten on the bashing bandwagon.

OK… The ranting aside, some of them were kinda funny… the first few times.  But come on people.  Find something new to beat on.

I do understand, though… seriously.  We live in an age where the only people that you really CAN pick on, without fear of a law suit or an attack from some special interest group, is the white male between the ages of 15 and 65.   If you go after a man or woman of any non-white race, then you are being racist.  If you pick on women, then Gloria and the NOW gang of feminazis come out of the woodwork to take you to task.  If you pick on the Homeless, then Jimmy Carter puts on his cape and flies in with his Nobel Prize of power to lay you to rest.  If you pick on the handicapped… well…  I am not sure who their spokes person is, but they will come out and attack.  Somehow, I think it would be neat to see Stephen Hawking fly in with a cape and protect them all… but that is a story for another time.

If you are sitting there, thinking that I am writing this out of hate… I am not.  I understand very well how the marketing system works.  I know that commercials are geared towards certain niche crowds that the writers know will probably bring in the most traffic, and that these commercials cater to the people that live in that region that they are shown.  I have to think that Carl’s Jr. probably used the Paris Hilton commercial out here in California, but in Pennsylvania they probably had a gal dressed in full smock and hair in a bun, “getting dirty” washing the family horse and buggy with the tag line… “You English will certainly like our fresh Amish beef steaks.”   This probably would not work in someplace like Utah…  in some cases one family would fill an entire Carl’s Jr… and that is just with the wives.

…Not without my cat!

Tonight I watched the movie “Alien”, this will make the… oh, I stopped counting so long ago it is not even worth mentioning.  Let me just say that I have the script memorized and will speak the lines before they are spoken on the idiot box.

To be fair, I do like this movie.  If I am willing to watch it that many times, then that much must be obvious, right?  Right.

But there is an important thing that has always stood out to me, that is:  Why in the hell did she not just leave the darned cat on the ship and take Parker and Lambert and get the hell off (the ship, that is… this was not a porn flick)?

Don’t take this wrong… I love cats!  I think that they are great and I would be truly saddened if something happened to mine.  But get real for a moment.  If my house is burning down and Sally and Critter decide at that particular moment that they want to play hide and seek… I am sorry… looks like broiled kitty is on the menu!

… Wait… we are talking about a movie.  What do you mean, “Get Real!”

Think about it…  someone writing this script had to sit down and think, “What can we do to slow her down?  Let’s create a bond with her and a… uh… Turtle! no, too docile.  Canary! no… it would have a heart attack the moment someone screamed and we would go through two or three every scene.  Ah… a dog!  No… they like almost everyone and would end up wanting to play with the Alien or end up chasing it out an airlock.  Hey… A CAT!!!  They are aloof, like to hide, make an interesting hissing sound when upset.  Perfect.  Now lets make this Rippley chick have a greater bond for the cat than her crew!”

So someone thought up the idea that an officer, pardon me… a warrant officer (apologies to my brother Scott.) would put the life of a cat before the life of her crew.

If this had been me?  Let the cat out of the little glass box and run free.  Cat’s can figure things out pretty well, and who knows?  It might find it’s way to the shuttle on it own.  If not, then Jonesy would become one with the universe.  He would become “Star Stuff”, in the words of my Hero… Carl Sagan.  The kittie would cease to be.

Heck… it might have even made and interesting story line to have Rippley take the cat out of the box and throw it at the alien.  A clawing, spitting, overall pissed off cat would have kept the alien busy for a couple minutes while Rippley got away.

But…  I am not dumb.  I rewinded the movie.  I plotted where the story would have gone from the moment they decided to abandon the ship and leave, had she left the frikken cat.  The movie would only have gone on for about another ten minutes.  This would not have been a good alternate ending and likely would have never made the director’s cut of the special edition DVD box set.

Maybe this is a good reason why I am not a producer!

A brotherhood/sisterhood of car owners

Tell me… When did it become the norm for people to think that just because you drive the same car as they do, that there is some bond created between the two of you?

Trust me, I DO undstand it if, say, you own a collectable or unique car.  My wife has a 1993 Honda del Sol and we are on-again off-again members of a del Sol car club.  But see, that is different.  You have a car that is worth being happy with and there are few enough of them out there that make it special.  Several times we will be driving in her car and happen upon another del Sol driver who would wave at us.  There have even been a couple times that people have stopped and talked to us about the car and we are more than happy to share our time with them.

I think the first time I noticed that there are groups out there that seem to see a bond where none exists, is when I bought my first car.  It was a 1997 GMC Jimmy SUV, which is actually nothing more than a Chevy Blazer.  Anyone that has been around the block a time or two knows that you almost cannot walk a hundred feet without tripping over one of these things from some model year.  They are not that rare.  Yet, there is a car club for their owners.  I could not tell you how many people there are in it, but I am sure that there are quiet a few.  But the question is… WHY?  I can say, from personal experience with my own and from the points of view of others through conversations, that the Jimmy was a crappy vehicle.  Why form a club?  So that you know you can have a group of people to cry with you when you have to replace your radiator after the Dexcool seizes your cooling system?

Another one that makes me laugh is something I saw here in my town.  A Ford F150 owners club.  Alright, I would associate that as being about as relevant as a club called “Bathtub users of America”.  There are so many of those things on the road that again, I have to ask, what is the point?  They have a good record, yes.  They have a history, yes… but they are about as unique as humans having two feet. (no offense to any double amputees or paraplegics that might read this.)

The reason I am talking about this is because of my new car…  well… not actually a car, it is called a “Crossover” these days.  Not quite a car, not quite a truck, not quite a minivan…  you get the point.  It is a Chrysler Pacifica, as I have spoken about previously on this site.  Since getting this vehicle, I have started noticing more of them on the road.  I am pretty sure that they were always there, but the way the mind works, i was just not seeing them.

Now I have noticed that occasionally people see me driving in mine, and wave at me.  I do not know who they are, but they seem pretty happy about waving to me.  So I can only assume that they feel some bond to me for having bought a Pacifica, or maybe it is some mass delusional state that accompanies ownership of these crossovers that I have yet to succumb to, that causes involuntary wagging of the arm… who knows.

I like my Pacifica… I really do, but I do not consider them to be unique enough to warrant the “buddy effect” that seems to be surrounding me since I bought it.

Oh well… I am a gracious person… I will smile when people wave… like I always do.  But in my mind, I am hoping that you get back home before the Lithium wears off.

I aint as good as I once was…

Toby Keith is a true wordsmith, but unfortunately for me, I found out this last week exactly how true his words are.

As you may have read in my last post, I celebrated my fortieth birthday.  To help me celebrate, a couple friends took me to a place called the “Tilted Kilt”, an establishment known for their drinks and their scantily clad waitresses.  Both of which I will personally attest to the drinks and the attire.

When we arrived, we were seated in the section that was waited by a very nice girl named Monique.  I started with a beer and an appetizer…  and that, so they say, was the beginning of the end.

I learned that night, that I cannot drink or party the way I did, say, twenty years ago.  In fact, after my evening was complete, I was glad that I did not drive… and I was glad that the guest bathroom was so close to the main entrance to my house.  To give you an idea of how bad it was, here is a list of the drinks that I had that evening, in no particular order.

1.  Four – Blue Moon Ales

2.  One – Red-Headed Slut (the drink, as far as I know.)

3.  Two – Scottish Orgasms

4.  One – Kamakazi

There was a time, many years ago, when I could walk into a bar, or a friends house and drink with the best of them.  I was a regular at such places like “John Bryant’s” or “Woody’s”, here in Bakersfield.  I can recall putting away as many as twelve beers and nine Kamikaze’s in one evening and waking up the next morning with little or no hang over.

When I made it home after this night of drinking, I was a mess.  My wife was the best, more than willing to clean up the mess I made while praying to Ralph at the porcelain throne.  Taking a moment or two to laugh at me in my moment of suffering and bring me my water and napkins when I needed them.

In the end, it took me a full day to recover and several glasses of water and a hand full of aspirin.

No… I am certainly not what I once was… but you know, who is?

Have I learned my lesson?  Probably not…

Will I do it again?  I will, of course, say no.  But in ten years, who is to say.  You only turn fifty once.

The Tilted Kilt is a great place to hang out and I plan to go there from time to time.

One thing I did learn from this experience is that I need to go hang out at places like this more often.  Not to get drunk, but just to have fun and hang out.

Happy drinking and happy living, all!

Songs that men probably should not sing…

Admit it guys… there have been time that you have been sitting at home, or in the car and a song has come on that you cannot help but sing along with… but is not meant for a guy to sing.

Unfortunately, I too am guilty of this.  There have been a couple times I caught myself, being a big fan of ABBA singing something like “Gimme Gimme Gimme” when it comes on the radio.  Granted… I will try, when I think about it, to edit the lines to say woman… so the result is no longer the “Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight” that are the real lines of the song.

There are many other songs that are like this.  Written from the point of view of the woman and sung by a woman, yet they are catchy enough that we all tap our toes and sometime sing along.

I was driving the other day and heard a guy in the car next to me singing Gretchen Wilson’s “Red Neck Woman”, and it looked like he was really getting into it, until he saw me watching him.  As I turned and looked forward again I heard his radio tune to a talk show and he was no longer singing.

Then there are the songs that guys sing when they do not know the meaning of them and the people that do sit, put their head in their hands and groan.  I used to have a friend that loved a song by the Kinks called “Lola”.  He used to say that it was a song that he would dedicate to his wife and reminded him of how they met.  This confused me, because anyone who really LISTENS to the song will realize that is about a guy’s first sexual encounter with a male transvestite.  When I explained this to him, he ignored me.  I am all for having the occasional romantic song in your life, but it might be a good idea to select one that you know the meaning behind.

Then there have been the times I have seen women singing songs that were meant for men.  Yes, ladies… you are guilty too.  Like a time I was sitting in a bar, out of town, having dinner… I noticed a young lady singing Dierks Bently’s “What was a thinking?” to herself and she was really getting into it, too.

Like I said… we are all guilty of doing this from time to time.  I know it will never stop and sometime we just do not realize that we are singing the song until you notice that people are looking at you like you like you just peed in the holy water at church.

So… keep singing… because the rest of the world needs a reason to laugh.

Confessions of a recovering nerd.

My name is Sam… and I am a recovering nerd.

Unfortunately there is no twelve step program for people like me, we simply learn that technology does not need us, we need it and it becomes a part of our lives. Sometimes a little too much a part of our lives. Some of us do find an escape.

I have decided to start a wood shop in my garage and learning how to make things with my hands and my mind. While I have not made anything yet, the fact remains that I have done pretty well just putting the stuff together in the way of tools and equipment. Now I am reading a little and learning what I need to proceed.

Obviously I still work on computers quite a bit, otherwise you would not be reading this right now. But I have learned to find a way to be a technophile and still enjoy life away from cyberspace.

A friend of mine, whom I have known since high school, is also a recovering nerd. He looks a little more like a nerd than do I, but he too have found a n escape from the PCs. He is about the closest thing to a master model maker that I can say I know. His house is full of models that he has built. At the time of this writing, I am trying to talk him into letting me post some of his pictures, but I am not holding out hope.

But at our core, we are still all nerds at heart. Nothing is really that bad about being a nerd… I was proud to have been one when I was in school… in fact about the only time I was not a nerd was when I joined the Marines. Marines don’t have nerds… don’t ask… they just don’t.

So… I am a nerd… a recovering nerd. I will never cease to be a nerd, I will only learn to take it day by day.

I have to go… I have to answer an email… oh…. uh oh.

Just because it fits… Observations from a Gym.

Since there does not appear to be any guides stating that I cannot talk about this and my gym membership did not include a Confidentiality Agreement, at least not that I am aware of, I fee pretty “OK” talking about this subject.

I recently started going to a gym. I did this mostly due to the wake-up call I received a couple weeks ago and shared with you all in the piece I wrote called “A Place in my heart.” Last night was my first time going there, and I will have to admit that it was not all bad. There were some things that I saw that I really need to talk about… let’s call it therapy.

Warning: Some of the following may be considered crass, rude, hostile or even just plain mean hearted… but I mean it in the most constructive way possible. Read it and comment on it, but consider yourself warned.

Many years ago I belonged to a gym here in Bakersfield named Bakersfield Athletic Club. I went pretty regularly until they were bought out by a place called “24 Hour Fitness”. To me, this was like finding out that my local Temple (Jewish) was being run by Saint Frances’ Catholic school for children with spastic rectal disorder. In other words, not a good thing. 24 Hour Fitness could ruin half off happy hour at the Mustang Ranch.

I digress… the above was not what I came here to talk about. What I really wanted to talk about are the items that people wear to the gym and some of the things you see in a gym. Trust me, they are not all good and some of them would send Freddy Kruger back to the pits of hell looking for someone to hug him.

First of, let me tell you how I dress to work out. It is a matter of utility for me, I am not there to attract the women, expecially since I have been off the market for almost twenty years. So my attire is usually a pair of sweat shorts and a heavy sweat shirt. Yes, I wear this all the time that I am working out, even in the summer. The object of doing a good workout is to sweat, right? For the ladies reading, I will call it “Glowing”, but for me, it is sweating.

I am also not there to have a discussion, so you will not see me chatting with other people. I just go in, get on the machine that I want to use and sweat away.

The reason I talk about what people wear to the gym is because while I am not not on the market and I am not looking for a date, I am also not dead. I will notice the ladies if they are pleasing to look at. Which brings me to my first point.

Ladies… just because you fit into the size 6 unitard, when you are actually a size 12, does not mean you SHOULD put it on. There are many reasons that you should not wear it.  I know that there may be something that tells you that this looks sexy, but that is the same voice that keeps telling you that one more banana split will not make a difference. IGNORE THE VOICE.  I have NO problem with large women and I have no problem with them working out.  I do have a problem with seeing things that are better left to someone else’s imagination.  I will end that portion of the topic with two words, and leave the rest to your imagination…  Camel Toe.

To be fair, I am not slender.  I am 276 pounds and most of it is in my ass and stomach, but you will never see me in the gym in bicycle shorts or a tank top.  Heck, even if I had a great body and was built like Bruce Lee, you would not see me dressed like that.

Guys… I have two issues to pick on with the guys who go to the gym.  There seem to be three types of guys that go to the gym… people like me who are trying to get our bodies back in some shape other that pear or “bowling pin”, who go in at regular times and work our butts off… hopefully literally.

Then there are the guys that seem to mistake the gym for a pick-up joint.  They go in and try and pick up on the ladies to see who might be available.  You guys are the reason that many gyms have created a “Ladies Only”.  These are the idiots that come in, find a machine next to a lady and start working out on it for no other reason than to chat it up with a person that wants nothing to do with you.

Then there are the muscle types… they go in and work for hours on the free weights.  You can usually tell these ones, because they lose their sense of anything but themselves.  when they walk around they strut, if they happen to walk by a mirror then they watch themselves walk past.  That alone gives me the creeps, because the way they will sometimes look at themselves, you start to wonder if they are have some weird homoerotic fantasy about themselves.

Now… I know that anyone reading this may stop and ask me about the issues that I have… and I do have issues.  I lack a great deal of self-confidence, I am ashamed of how I look, especially when I thing that I was once a Marine and did have a good body.  I am paranoid that others are watching me work out and whispering under their breath about me.  There… I am not perfect.  That being said, I do get out there and do the best that I can.  I am not getting any younger.

Please do not be offended by anything I have written about in this post.  I am venting about things that I think are silly.  You will have your own opinion, I am sure, but I am sure that there are things you can all agree with in this.  We have all been to gyms and seen things like this.  This is no longer the late 70s or 80s… there are no more Kelly LaBrock’s or Olivia Newton John’s bouncing around in leotards and leg warmers, images that filled the fantasies of many a young man, myself included, in those times…  I cannot speak to what you ladies reading this looked at and fantasized about during that time .  Two decades of gluttony have caught up with us all.

Now we see the gyms filled with people more like the Michael Moore’s and Rosanne Arnold’s trying to do the same moves, and it is scary.

Good Night, all… with all I have written I hope that you have no nightmares.

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