Friday, January 13, 2012


I dress for the gym like a homeless person...I love my holey sweatshirts with cut off arms, and smelly sneakers, that are broken in..."just right". I like the muscle man t's even in the winter time...I wear shorts when it's fifteen degrees outside. I slather myself with aloe skin cream, so I don't get the crusties.

Today, I wore the fancy Nike gear my daughter bought me...All the hip people wear this stuff, on the north side of Chicago in Wrigleyville...but I'm a south side kinda guy, and I like sweating and doing heavy lifting, so I guess I just don't get it...I can't fromp around with my blackberry or IPod. This interferes with my concentration and work at hand.

Besides, why ruin expensive outfits with sweat?...I can always wear the new stuff to non-sweaty, daytime or evening events. I like the look of a renegade when I am pumping iron. I like harley dew rags, and heavy wrist wraps. Give me more weight, and big guys to help me pump a few more reps...yeah, guys like me with garlic on their breath, who don't shave their chest hair or underarms.

We carry ratty gym bags, not the fancy kind. We don't stop to chat at the juice bar, but sit alone in a corner ingesting concoctions which make us bigger after the workout. It's ok to say "hi" in passing, but don't mess with my routine...I only get to rest 30 seconds between sets.

This is how it is, and this is how it's 'sposed to be...amen...but thanks anyway sweet daughter, Catherine!

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