The gym I go to only has 2 squat racks. One full and one modified. However despite these being the only two places to do squats with significant weight (which I need to do because my boo piece says my butt is so flat I'm like a frog stood up and put on pants). So of course people do all kinds of ridiculous non-squat stuff. So far this year I've seen:
1) military press with 65 lbs
2) pull ups
3) incline bench press
4) curls
5) wrist curls
6) pull ups
7) seated military press
8) stretching with no weight
Mind you there are only a dozen or so other more proper places to do most of these. And for the most part people don't seem to mind when I glare at them when they do these things and I'm waiting to do some squats. Damn your black hearts. Especially people doing light weight military press.
I don't know what happened to my memory but it's a good thing for sticky notes or else I wouldn't remember my own name. Case in point, this morning I needed to bring a bunch of thugs to work in addition to the normal items including a host of holiday cards for people that my wife left right next to my wallet. It was the last thing we talked about before bed and it would be hard to miss them since they were sitting directly next to everything else I need. But I only remembered them when I was well on my way to the carpool yet if the cards been a shark I would have lost an arm picking up my wallet next to them.
It's that kind of stuff all the time though, my memory failure is definitely a feature in most of my life failings. This memory leakage problem is getting more and more troubling. I did however remember to take the donuts into work.
So I have an old black belt that I stole from a fraternity brother 12ish years ago and I've worn it pretty much daily for those thirteen years. Needless to say during all the ups and downs of weight gain and loss and the wear and tear of wearing only one black belt it's become fairly unstable. So unstable that the snaps that hold the buckle in place sometimes have a tendency to be annoyingly undone when I take my belt off. I've lost some weight lately, which is a good thing, but that means I've been having to buckle my belt one or two holes tighter than it has been, which has caused more stress on the snaps and increased the frequency of the buckle coming off when I undo my belt. With all that back story that leads me to today's story. Today while using the restroom I undid my belt to use the bathroom and my buckle fell off and rattled on the floor into a stall that was currently occupied by the only other gentleman in the washroom. So there I was with a belt that couldn't be clasped, in a men's room where there's no talking, and I wasn't about to reach under the partition to startle some guy taking care of business. So I did the only thing I could think of, finished my business, washed up. And then went outside and waited patiently watching for someone to exit all creepy style until I could go back in and get my belt pieces. So after being super creepy for like 10 minutes I was able to do so but this whole ordeal has me thinking that maybe it's time for a new black belt.
I know someone, and I will try to be non-attributional so as not to out who it is. But this person is such an extreme extrovert that they cannot function without people around. If you are doing something on the same property as them they will ask you to come do work near them. They can't be in a car alone and not be one the phone. During a phone conversation recently there was this particular exchange:
Me - You are an extreme extrovert
Them - That's a big word and I have no idea what it means, I just hate being alone at any time
Me - ding ding ding!
You know how when you go get a burrito, either breakfast or otherwise, generally greasy and awful for you. It's almost always an excellent culinary experience on par with the finest of meals available in the vineyards of Provence I'm sure. But generally when you procure such an item, the fine dining establishment typically provides the diner with a choice of at least two sauces to accompany their burrito. Usually there will be a red and green sauce, or a hot or mild sauce, or a chipotle or other chipotle, whatever the case, generally you have two choices. In almost all cases one of the two sauces is far superior to other, it's like how when you have two pairs of workout shoes one is always better than the other.
But what happens when both of the sauces are subpar? I had this happen to me the other day, and let me tell you, it was right up there in terms of stressful and unpleasant situations with stepping on a Lego with a bare foot or scrapping a parked car in a parking lot and it's minor enough that you don't want to leave a note but you feel obligated and then you don't know what to do and then it gets awkward because you are standing there looking at a stranger's car and they could walk up at any second...it's never happened to me but I heard from a friend. Anyway, when both sauces are bad it ruins your day. It is devastating. And it's a weird devastating because the main attraction of the meal is the delicious burrito, but the sauce is usually a delightful accompaniment, and when it's awful or not there it really throws off the whole experience. It's like when you go on a really amazing date and you get no necking at the end, just sort of throws it off. Or when you get a nice steak but the baked potato is awful. It's just offputting.
So please for the love of pete, if you are a burrito manufacturer, have at least one good sauce. Because I don't want my day ruined because you put zero work in on your sauce game. Step it up. It's not that hard, maybe get some Tapatio on tap. Don't ruin my day through sloth. And that goes for you too hot chocolate that tastes too dark chocolatey, step your game up.
So one of the things that happens to you as you supposedly mature is you might buy a house. Buying a house seems like a lot of work and is a total hassle, because renting is so much easier and also better for you. So foolishly I bought this house, goodness knows why. And once you buy a house, all the yard work that you weren't doing for the past 10 years comes back to haunt you in a hurry. So now basically all my free time is spent doing yard work. Which is great and it feels even better when you get things accomplished, or you break new things, or sometimes you think you are done with something and someone swoops in and tells you that a much more advanced and elaborate measure is required to fit the mutual need/use. During those particular scenarios it is not the best feeling when you've spent blood sweat and sometimes tears doing things, but that is an aside. Doing yard work is physically exhausting, it feels like you spent a bunch of time lifting/moving heavy things and thus should garner the same physical benefits of doing said things at the gym. The problem is that it doesn't. You do all the work but it's not the same as doing specific exercises at a gym or weight room. You may feel like you were moving the whole time for hours but it wasn't the same as doing cardio. After a couple month of this your built up muscle mass decreases because instead of banging out sets of 12 at the gym and sweating all over the equipment and getting swole, you are banging out 12 sets of moving dirt back and forth and getting heat rash. And since you are so tired from doing stuff in the yard, you probably aren't super motivated to go to the gym afterward, or there's no time (some people will be like, "There's always time" and sure that might be true if you are an asshole/cunt, but I'd be willing to bet they don't have 3/4 of an acre of yard to wrestle).
I should have known better, so part of this is an apology to all the guys I hassled in the past about buying a house and then not going to the gym. You were right and I was wrong, yard work does take up all of your time and energy. I saw this same thing happen to friends and gym colleagues (bros) when they grew up, and I didn't understand. Oh how naïve I was, with all my care free workout time. Instead of trimming rose bushes I was crushing lunges and deadlifts. My days are filled with the firm feel of excess paint smacking me in the face, rather than a boxing glove in the grill during sparring. Some times my mind harkens back to the simpler days, days less filled with horse poop and moving termite filled plywood, and more filled with Russian kettlebells and yoga.
There have been quite a few changes in my life recently. I moved into a home with a woman and her two dogs and apparently gave up all my rights to individuality home décor. But nothing prepared me for all the stuff what I would get chastised for when I moved in with a significant other. For example, apparently it's not ok to just add decorations or useful things around the house, they have to be pre-approved and match with the way the home is designed to be shown. Also if someone is hosting a bachelorette party at your house the first weekend you are living there, you have to leave and go stay with a friend. Thirdly, apparently it's not ok to hate on any silk sheets that may be on the bed. Lots of stuff. But little did I know how quickly I would become accustomed to it.
When I was using the restroom the other evening, I ran the current toilet roll out of paper, so I replaced it and rehung the new roll. I hung the roll in the underhand manner, and at the time I guessed that someone in my household couldn't help but make a comment about how we don't hang toilet paper rolls in such a fashion. Sure enough within 15 minutes I was being yelled at from the bathroom and informed that we don't hang the toilet paper in such a manner in this household. Which is an amazing bit of foresight for a man, since mostly we would never think about that kind of thing.
This means one of two things, either I'm gettign smarter, or, far more likely, my brain is trying to rebel against the oppresive power without my consent. If it is my rebellious subconcious, we can expect things that will fight the "man" keeping me down that are both subtle and inconveniencing. I can't imagine the depth of the sneaky things my brain can get up to when I'm not aware, such as putting dirty dishes in a dishwasher full of clean dishes, rearranging the pillows on the couch/bed, deleting saved shows from the DVR. Who knows what my subconcious will get up to, my rebelious spirit can't be quenched all the way, even if I want it to. How can I be to blame if the guest room door gets left open and the dog sleeps on a bed she's not supposed to?
