Week 7: Stories from the Gym

This week i did nothing “new”.  at least nothing new that was blogworthy.  i doubt you want to hear about the new beer i tried, the fried mozzarella appetizer at Bazil or my new hat.  which is awesome btw.  intead i will speak of the gym.  i literally have an arsenal of gym stories. 

**Shellac update: Day 10- still no chips!

1. my hypothesis is that humor (or perhaps just my own special brand of humor) is inversely proportional to biceps.  and i’m not talking your run of the mill big biceps, i’m talking “i lift things up and put them down” types.  the testing portion of this hypothesis is generally done on the biggest, weight belt, tank top, gallon of water, biceps as big as my head guy i can find.  i’ve cracked jokes with this type of fella three times now, while either waiting for a machine or after asking them to adjust a setting for me that sticks.  EVERY time it’s like i’m lobbing quips at a brick wall (both literally and figuratively, HA).  my favorite was the guy who assured me that my (scrawny chickenesque) arms were indeed almost as big as his (approx the circumference of my waist) arms.  dead serious too.  no hints of irony in him.  my sisters btw are APPALLED that i speak to randoms in the gym.  they think this is unheard of.  clearly they have never been to Browns.  i will however acknowledge that i do get into ridiculous conversations.  which brings me to story 2.

2. so i’m changing into my gym outfit the one day and getting changed next to me is a tiny teenager with a GIANT purple belt next to her.  man i changed so fast so i could talk to her. (locker room rule, don’t talk to people that are half naked or if you are half naked. man i wish old ladies would adhere to this better). so anyway once everyone was properly attired i casually asked her what the belt was for.  POWERLIFTING. say what tiny teenage girl?….  i had so many questions.  SO MANY.  next sentence out of her mouth was, “yeah i wear pink shoes and my gloves are pink so the guys don’t forget i’m a girl.”  awwww. i didn’t even ask her how much she lifted, (although i totally will if i run into her again) or how she got into it, or if she wanted to be a bodybuilder.  i just said “well have fun! i like your belt”.  kids these days.

3. for a whole 4 days i was convinced james franco went to my gym.  like i carefully weighed the ridiculousness of that statement and still came out 40% convinced.  then i saw him on an award show in CA and he talked about what he had done those last few days in CA so i bumped it down to 5%.  i mean it’s still possible.   see, the one night i was on the elliptical and the strangest character came into the gym and worked out right in front of me.  he had some scraggly, unkempt longish hair, scrawny body in a black beater, black cargo shorts, high black socks, black combat boots, and little black weightlifter gloves.  i mean so bizarro it was like someone was testing their own hypothesis.  and he was also the spitting image of james franco.  like amazing.  not like the other guy at my gym who looks like dave matthews, but who has never tricked me into thinking he is DM.  so i spent the next 30 minutes on the elliptical staring at this character (who was doing crunches, and bizarro stretches, and basically acting like james franco in a SNL skit about weirdos at the gym) trying to convince myself that it wasn’t james franco.  and also looking at other people to see if they appeared to think this was james franco.   apparently i am the ony one at my gym with keen observation skills…  the best part about this story is when i told my sister and she was like, “thats crazy, i was just telling my friends that i was going to write james franco a letter and tell him that he should date my sister” (clearly unusual expectations run in my family) and her friends were like ” wow, you know james franco?” and my sister was like “no.”  had she actually wrote the letter and said where i lived i would bump it back up to 20%.  cause clearly it would not be a coincidence then.

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