Saturday, September 11, 2010
I've belonged to two gyms and used multiple apartment complex facilities, and it seems like this guy is everywhere. If you've ever been to a gym, you've probably seen him. And he probably made your workout uncomfortable. Who is he?
Grunting Unnecessarily Guy
Let me start out by saying that I consider all gym grunting unnecessary and disgusting. It's why I've actually chosen on several occasions to skip my workout because I've forgotten my iPod... I'd prefer not to hear what you sound like in the bathroom. But some guys grunt while lifting significant amounts of weight, and that I don't mind as much. Grunting Unnecessarily Guy is that one dude who is benching less than I can but thinks he's in an iron man competition, and sounds like it.
The Former Bodybuilder
I think there's at least one of these guys working out at every gym in America. He's usually really buff with a substantial beer-gut. He's trying to relive his glory days while coping with a rapidly slowing metabolism. He's never heard of cardio. He's wearing sweat-pants (possibly cut-off at a modest length), black athletic shoes, and an old Gold's Gym sweater he purchased while Miami Vice was still on the air that's been cut into a deep tank top that shows a little side-man-boob and an alarming amount of pit hair.
The Guy Who Doesn't Actually Work Out
He stands near various pieces of equipment, occasionally doing a set but mostly chugging gatorade and stretching so as to show off his chest. He checks himself out the mirrors almost as often as he imagines you are checking him out. You know who I'm talking about.
The Guy Who Might Live at the Gym
Whether you go to gym for a workout in the early morning, over your lunch break, in the middle of the day, or right before closing... he's there. Whether you go on a Sunday or a Tuesday or a Friday... he's there. Regardless of when you visit, he's always wearing the same thing. He's on a first name basis with every single employee. He may or may not have a job. Which begs the question, how does he afford his gym membership? Which makes you think he might be sneaking into a storage closet to sleep every night.
Junkers
This was the nickname Stephen and I had for this short dude who belonged to our gym in South Carolina, and I've seen the same kind of guy in other facilities. Junkers is always wearing the same pair of wildly inappropriate, super-tight spandex shorts.
Lower-Back Tattoo Guy
Ok, maybe you haven't seen him at your gym, but I saw him once at our gym, swimming laps. He got out of the pool wearing speedo shorts- the kind that end right above the knee but are so low cut at the waist you practically need a bikini wax to wear them. He strutted over to the chair where his towel was. I was just thinking that he was kind of good looking when he turned around. And there it was. A tramp stamp. A small tribal tattoo, about 3 inches across, right on his lower back. I'm now sure that he bought the speedo specifically to show it off, because regular swim trunks would have covered it up. As soon as I saw it, all thoughts of hotness vanished instantly.
That One Guy in Yoga Class
He shows up alone. He keeps his socks on during class. He picks a spot right behind you. He looks around the room during downward dog pose. He also smells funny.
The Guy Who Comes to Yoga Class Because His Girlfriend is Making Him
He shows up with his girlfriend and looks embarrassed when some other guys see him walk into the yoga studio. He keeps his socks on during class. He makes little jokes and comments and gets scolded by his girlfriend. Someone farts during child's pose and he laughs and gets scolded by his girlfriend. He looks around the room during downward dog pose and gets scolded by his girlfriend. He also smells funny.
Stephen kindly made a few contributions:
The Guy Who Walks Around Naked in the Locker Room
He's all nonchalant about it, but everyone knows that he could have put his boxers on a long time ago. He's really well-built and is obviously showing off. Everyone makes a concerted effort to keep their eyes from settling at waist level. The mirrors make this difficult.
The Other Guy Who Walks Around Naked in the Locker Room
Unlike the first guy, he isn't well-built or tan. He's usually older. He just hasn't gotten dressed because he doesn't care anymore. We still can't decide which guy is worse.
Have you seen That Guy at the Gym? Tell me about it in the comments.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
I was struggling through writing a post for my business blog the other day and ended up learning an important rule about how to improve my process, my writing, and definitely my productivity. Although I'm going to talk about writing specifically, I think this rule is applicable to any creative process. It won't force you to make significant changes to the way you work. It won't take a lot of extra time. It won't leave you feeling frustrated. Best of all, it's super easy, even natural.
Am I starting to sound like an infomercial? I feel like it...
Do you frequently re-read the last sentence you wrote and pull out your hair as you bemoan your inadequacies as a writer?
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| Yes, I realize she's wearing pantyhose on her head. That doesn't make any sense. I don't care. |
Do you often devolve into tears because you can't think of the exact perfect synonym?
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| Please take this from me- I don't deserve it if I can't come up with another word for "picturesque." |
Do you suffer from such intense writer's block that you fantasize about devouring your computer in a fit of rage?
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| Not, that's not me. I use a MacBook! |
Infomercial aside, here's the rule:
Don't edit while you write. (Obviously, I haven't edited this at all. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have posted it.)
Or, if you prefer: Don't critique your work while you're still in the process of creating it. You can easily get so distracted fixing it up as you go that you don't get anywhere. You're too "close to the project," as they say in the corporate world. Lately, I've been trying something new: focusing on just getting my thoughts down on paper (or keyboard, whatever), jumbled and nonsensical as they may sometimes be. Then, I let it rest. Often overnight. I come back to it later and re-read it and commence with the hair-pulling and sobbing if necessary.
Good writing is like baking bread (not that I would know... I've never baked bread in my life, this is based on baking here-say and conjecture). You mix all the ingredients together and let it rise for a while. Then you come back to it and... well, maybe you made crappy bread, and it's too late now. But that's why writing is better than baking, because you can take stuff out if it doesn't taste good. But now I'm mixing metaphors.
I promise you, creative types, that you'll start producing better work if you let it occur naturally, organically, in it's raw form, and come back to it after you've let your right brain rest a little.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Stephen and I are currently living in a third story one-bedroom apartment which is purportedly 900 square feet, but I don't believe it for a second. Some college kids live in the building across from ours, and they frequently sit on their porch at 3am drinking, smoking, and arguing loudly enjoying college life. Our "home office" is spread across the apartment, at various times encompassing the couches, dining room table, porch, and bedroom. On top of that, we have a baby coming in January, who at the moment would probably have to live in our walk in closet. So, yeah. We're kind of looking for a new place.
Stephen is all over Craig's List looking for houses or condos to rent. A few weeks ago, we found a great one. In a really nice part of town. Well within our budget. Three bedrooms. Fenced backyard. Garage. Excitement! Could it be real?
Stephen is all over Craig's List looking for houses or condos to rent. A few weeks ago, we found a great one. In a really nice part of town. Well within our budget. Three bedrooms. Fenced backyard. Garage. Excitement! Could it be real?
Stephen emailed the lister, who wrote back right away. She explained that she was currently working for the Red Cross, living in Western Africa, and really wanted renters that would take good care of her home. Some of the phrasing made us wonder... it could have been written by someone who was in a hurry, or on a blackberry. Or, it could have been written by someone who doesn't speak English as a first language... someone who might not necessarily feel compelled to be totally honest with us. But that didn't occur to us until after we filled out the application and sent it back to her.
That night, we went with my family to drive by the place and check it out. The lawn was trimmed, the flowers were tended, and there was a car parked in the driveway. "I thought it was vacant?" we wondered aloud. "Maybe she has current renters," my mom suggested. Suspicious, Stephen went to the door to try and talk to the tenants.
Unsurprisingly, the "tenant" is actually the "owner" who is, in fact, considering renting it out... but hasn't listed it yet. You can imagine her surprise when she found out she was living in West Africa and trying to rent her house for nearly a third of her actual mortgage.
If we hadn't figured it out by then, we would have after reading the next email from West Africa lady. She was so excited to find some good renters for her home who would take wonderful care of it. "Rest assured," she wrote, "I am the real owner of the house." Oh, well then! I feel better now. Because I'm sure you wouldn't say that if it weren't true! "Send me the deposit and first month's rent and I will mail you the paperwork and keys to the property." That fast, huh? Wow. This process is so unbelievably easy!
Stephen decided to mess with her a little, writing her a response absolutely drenched in sarcasm. He thanked her for reassuring us of her true identity and commented that she must have hired some landscapers as the lawn looked well-taken care of. He said we were so appreciative of her flexibility that we wanted to send her two months of rent at once, and where is her nearest Western Union? He told her how impressed we are that she's devoting her time to the Red Cross, telling her "your heart must be as big as your lies." We figured after that, we wouldn't hear from her again. Wrong.
She wrote back gushing over how happy she was to have some great renters, and telling us how to send her the money. Blah blah blah. It seemed evident she had missed the acrimonious tone in the previous message, making further screwing less entertaining. We were bored with the project and went back to looking for an actual homeowner to rent from. We told her we'd send the money right away, and then promptly forgot about her.
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