I recently switched gyms to accommodate my ever-increasing need to shake my booty. The gym that I joined is a national chain and my membership allows me to visit any location in the US.
Keep that in mind when MHS and I show up on our Harley at your doorstep begging for a place to stay. I need to stay fit on my roadtrips, ya know. Last week the chain opened a new location just for me. ……I knooowww! That’s what I thought. It’s right on my way to or from work. I have no excuses now. Geesh.
Today I tried out the new location. First, it smells good. That’s very important to me. I’m a smelly broad. I like things to smell good and at the gym, that’s not always a given. It was clean and all the equipment was shiny.
I met a new friend in the locker room. She told me all about how she comes to the gym for cardio but goes to a fancy (read EXPENSIVE) pilates spa in one of those botanical garden malls that are so popular in this area. Each class is $20. She goes 3 times a week. She was talking it up like a sales rep. (She wasn’t a sales rep) She told me all about how the core exercises have changed her life and promised they could do the same for me. Apparently she didn’t see the hole in my t-shirt. Spending $60 a week on pilates isn’t going to happen until I get my government bailout package. What? Isn’t that what the bank execs did? They went to a spa.
I missed the beginning of the mat pilates class
because I was making new friends in the locker room so I went straight to my old friend, the elliptical. I jumped on, queued my ipod to my gym playlist and I was like an exercise animal. Believe that? Nah, I didn’t think so.
So I’m chugging along and all of a sudden I hear talking in the background of my music. A rhythmic sing-song of words that didn’t seem to go with the song and I’m thinking, “I don’t remember this part.” Then the next song had that same background voice talking. I look over to my right and there is a woman with headphones in her hears chatting away. I think, “This crazy woman is talking to her ipod.” And suddenly it occurs to me that her ipod is actually an iphone and she is
giving a lecture having a conversation with some poor schmuck a friend. And she goes on and on and on and on.
Because I’m a grown-up I know how to handle these situations. I turned up my volume and began to jam to my favorite tunes on my own ipod-nonphone.
When it got to the part, “Everybody look left, everybody look right”, I did. And she was gone. I might have been singing. If you ever want to clear a room, call me.
And now peeps, it’s time for Jack. And nothing comes between me and my black ops hero.