Just the tip

Well deuces, the dove of hate has been laying low for a few days, refueling for a mile high pile. Before I release it's steaming contents on my unsuspecting victims I 'd like to give a shout out to all my peeps down in the T to the ON with the RENT in the middle. That's Trenton, New Jersey...not Trenton Ontario.
Trenton Ontario boasts the highest teenage pregnancy rate in Canada. If anyone knows Trenton NJ's number one claim to fame (outside of the Greenwood Raceway) let me know.

Tonight's blog is all about keepin' it real. I'd like to dedicate this entry to Sy, an entrepreneur, who's takin' it to the streets to make his town better one bicep curl at a time!
I had the distinct pleasure of cruising by Sy's gym on Olden Avenue in Trenton, NJ in August. I'm not ashamed to say I gazed longingly at the simplicity of his operation.

I belong to the local YMCA in Peterborough, Ontario. We use to be housed in a century old building in the heart of downtown but earlier this year we moved into a brand new facility off the main drag. Sure it's shiny and the equipment is new and state of the art...it's all good, but seeing Sy's gym this summer made my heart ache for the simpler times. The times when a good set of free weights and a pair of running shoes were the prescription for a satisfying workout. No programs and heart rate monitors, just an occasional reality check to be cashed when necessary.
So tonight I'm going to release the dove on some of the folks who have disrupted my own work out experience.
I'm not what you'd call a gym rat. I don't have the matching Nike bra-top to go with stretch capris and I don't apply lip gloss and eyeshadow before I hit the treadmill. When I workout I sweat and the armpits of my t-shirts can bear testimony to that. If you want to join a gym you can't get away from the gym rats. Male and female they are there, gnawing at the integrity of serious sweat monkeys everywhere.
This dove is going out to all the messed up wads who go to my gym. Yeah...you know who you are!
The first one is for this wanker who looks like a sawed off Stretch Armstrong doll. Yeah you heard me you brush-cutted little whiz pile. Number 1 - When you sign up for a machine, make sure you do it on the appropriate board. (I know the 'roids are frying your little pea brain, but it's the alphabet dude, pretty basic stuff). I am on treadmill A - therefore I sign up under treadmill A - Not B. Next up Fonzie...it ain't your office so don't be taking calls on your cellphone while you "walk" on the treadmill for an hour. I'd also like to make sure the Dove leaves some crusty leftovers on the guys who work in the Lifestyle Centre (The Lifestyle Centre is where they house the cardio and weight equipment) for letting this bristly little wanker get away with it...and you know you do. If that was me talking on my cellphone it'd be a major take down!
Next up I'm gonna drop it on the broads I had to listen to in the women's change room before I headed out on my run on Tuesday night. As I was pile driving my rolls into my shorts and sports bra they were blathering on about supplements. I had to tie my shoes extra slow to get the full gist of the situation. One of the personal trainers was telling a couple of the members about the supplements she takes. One burned carbs the other repelled fat absorptions blah, blah, blah! The one candyfloss headed broad was complaining about how tired she gets in the afternoons. Personal trainer broad encouraged her to take one particular supplement to get through it. She also said, "You may get shaky during your workout, but run through it."
WHAT THE F*@K? Who says that out loud with witnesses around?
I think when I get shaky it's my body telling me to....oh, I don't know....STOP, maybe EAT A SANDWICH?
Last of all...
I was at the gym the other day and I overheard this broad talking about her Q-tip addiction. I gotta say one of the greatest places to hear this kind of human tale is the change room. Usually the "recovering addict" or "sharer of woes" likes to talk at the top of their voice so they can drum up dialogue with others who are trapped half naked, or coiffing themselves after or before a workout. In other words - there ain't no way out! This chic was saying how she was totally jonesin' on the q-tips. She'd mack those cushy little mofo's into her ear 3 or 4 times a freakin' day. Ended up she damaged the "gland?" that produces the wax and can no longer excrete a dose of earwax to maintain proper ear health. She found this out after suffering from numerous ear infections and maladies of the ear for years. She talked about how hard it was to walk by the complimentary q-tips that the gym provides in the change room - like one might hear a conformed smoker or alcoholic relate the struggle to pass up a smoke or a jigger of their favourite hooch. It was frenetic, intense and somewhat ridiculous. I'm not dissing her for her particular addiction but you gotta think it goes deeper than the fuzzy little q-tip. You know she spends time alone in her room playing "just the tip".
I think this town is in dire need of a visit from Sy. He needs to spread his mantra and bitch slap the posers back to reality. I think it's time to look into sponsoring a "Keepin' it Real" Continental Tour.
Till next time...
B-spot signing out from the Northern Front
(Included is picture of Sy's road front gym courtesy of Chrissy & G-Spot)