...I (almost) promise.
Allow me to present the recent cast of characters who provide much viewing pleasure while I listen to my iPod and do my time:
Snake Woman.This is a 50-year-old woman (I heard her reveal her age to someone) with a butt so toned that if the situation warranted, she could use it to protect herself and at least seven others from a hail of bullets. I call her Snake Woman because even though she's at the gym in 2005 and not at a disco in 1972, she always wears one of those gold snake cuffs up over her left bicep. Really.
Not-Quite Guy.This is a man—I'd say he's 58 or so—who knows everyone at the gym. He's pleasant-looking, he works his socializing in between sets, he always smiles. There is almost nothing amiss about this guy. I have dubbed him the Not-Quite Guy, though, because he pulls his pants up too high like Martin Short's Ed Grimley character. So...not quite.
Amazing Old Guys.There are two of them, each at least 70 years old. One is of undetermined European origin, complete with one of those accents that turns "w's" into "v's." The other is Chinese. Neither one can claim to be more than 5'2". But both could kick your ass. They do stuff like perform fifty handstand push-ups with 20-lb. weights strapped to each ankle. And they talk to no one; especially not each other.
Gazelle. Thirty years old, maybe. She is thick, she is short-legged, yes. But put her on the treadmill and she is a thing to behold. She extends her legs fully, she maintains frightening speed and amazing posture. When I arrive she is running, and when I leave? Still running.
Sparkplug. Think Fred Flinstone in running shoes. The most unlikely candidate for superior cardio performance. And yet I've seen him run for an hour straight without breaking form or sweating. Well, okay, he sweats, but it's not flying off and splashing the people on either side of him. Also no taller than 5'2".
The Great Pretender. This is a 30ish woman who never actually works out. She sits on a mat in front of a mirror and reads a book while pretending to stretch. The footstep-shaped id tags hanging from the side of her shorts mean that her two children are down in the KidWatch area, though, so I can't really blame her. Gotta find your moments somehow, some way.
Perhaps I am in one of their blog posts. Maybe I'm "Unfocused Woman Who Stares at Other People" or "Wimpy Woman on the Elliptical Thingy" or "Woman Who Steals the New Yorker From the Magazine Rack."
9 comments:
Do you go the Energia in Monerey? They sound like the same people I see there. I hate to think of their name for me.
JD
bein' the hatah that i am, i was a bit more cynical with my nicknames though we also did have a "novel women" that once made me wait for almost 5 minutes while she was reading "Beloved" and using the leg extension machine (with only 10 lbs(!) of resistance)
we had "Sluggo" THE most eye-talian human being on the planet (mullet, four gold chains and zuba pants) who at 5'10 360 would waddle through some intense workouts
"El Shadow" this is the dark cuban muscle head that brings all his girlfriends to the gym and spots them on every free weight exercise. when i say spot, i mean he was on them tighter than lycra.
"The Grunt Bros" you could hear these dudes from across the street...
ONE MORE!!!
DONT LET IT BEAT YOU!!!
I GOT THIS!!! ARGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!
the only thing worse than the homo-erotic moans was having to dodge and weave everytime they tossed a plus size dumbbell to the floor to help accentuate the point.
"SupahStah" the women that spent more time in the locker room putting together her outfit and eye makeup than actually working out
having spent time at a gym just north of Washington Heights (aka the Dominican Republic North), i was subject to the daily rantings of "El Tipico de la Isla" he could not go through a workout without mentioning how great LA ISLA is and how things are so much better in LA ISLA and cheaper in LA ISLA...
and no gym i went to was complete without "The Nudist" this is the dude that showers and then walks around the locker room with just his flip flops on as he does EVERYTHING but put on some underwear. he blow dries his hair. he lays out his suit. he repacks hhis gym bag. he weighs himself on the scale. he breaks down the stock market.
and if someone was to nickname me- i would probably be "Drug Cartel Hitman" cuz unless i was with a workout partner, i never spoke more than two words while i was workin out. i would go from machine to machine, freeweight to freeweight like a cyborg tryin to get in-and-out of the gym as fast as humanly possible.
love ya like ahnold loves golds,
ob
Geez, ob, isn't it some sort of netiquette no-no to outshine the post in question with your hilarious hatah comments?
*strikes the head-hung-in-shame pose*
P.S. I heart the Grunt Bros.!
well said, ob. I was just thinking about all this myself when reviewing exactly why I haven't been to the gym in several weeks. I'm so sick of the techno music and the grim faced lookie-loos and the acrid sweat smell. I also hate the Nudist. They stare at you incessantly when you enter the locker room to wash your hands of the diseases left by the previous user of the miracle machine you managed to punish with multiple reps. Screw it, I'd much rather go on a hike and do some situps or something.
this is EXACTLY the kind of post that I don't need right now. I've seen the same set of characters at my gym. I'm especially apalled by the Nudist... I don't need a post like this now because since I joined my gym I have been there exactly 3 times. 3 times in as many weeks... this is just the excuse i need to quit. sheesh.
Gads; the nudist! Yes, every gym must have one...I think they come from the gym gear catalog. Damn funny, Oscar!
BTW, Ver, the New Yorker is well worth the felonious behavior.
We have a nudist that just walks around and talks to people in the locker room. She doesn't work out, she comes in and showers before she goes to work because there are to many people in her home. Frightening.
JD
Ver--
I did take out a gym membership (trial only) for three months. A friend was supposed to come with me, because I couldn't see myself doing the workouts by myself-- she got very busy so I found myself dropping by and walking around the weight room, trying one or two machines for maybe a total of half an hour, then leaving again. Suffice it to say-- I was probably like that woman you call "The Pretender"--
No, Marianne, you'd be "The Wanderer." Hahahahahaha!
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