jungle gym

at the gym the staff placed a suggestion box on a counter in the locker room. it sits in a way that blocks a hairdryer outlet, partially obstructs the mirror and hogs up counter space. i witnessed a morning monster complete one of the suggestion cards with

'i suggest you move this damn box somewhere else.'

roid rage!

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gym etiquette dictates that when using a weight machine you ought not let the weight slam down. early one morning, i noticed this man in sweats and a t, no biggie, but foolio had forgotten his gym shoes and was rocking his church shoes. brown leather oxfords. it was obvious he was a touch discombobulated. but he stuck it out. he was grunting and puffing extra macho style when i heard him slam the weights. we all looked at this tough guy and watched him proceed to almost wander into the women's locker room and walk right out. no one thinks your tough if you slam the weights dude...not in church shoes we won't!

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visualization is very powerful tool for me. i was on the elliptical working it out. i thought about my cousin who's about to participate in a 5k. then i thought about myself crossing a finish line and my divo greeting me w/the foil blanket and we collapse in sobs. i almost damn near cried on the machine! if i did i would've played it off as sweat (zzz).

i used to visualize that i was training for a fight. not just any fight but a girl fight. and by girl i mean any girl that my ex-bf (current divo) would be hooking up with. i always wanted to be in fighting shape should they even look at me sideways. on heavy rotation on my discman was the wu tang's 36 chambers. fack a jazzercise. killah beez!

one wall in our garage was covered with pages from muscle fitness. they were there to inspire my dad as he worked out...and inspire years and years of gay jokes from any visitor.