I dream of finding a girl who will pop my back pimples for me… I don’t know if such a thing exists. Married men? Would your wife do that for you?
I responded that my wife sighed and said yes. Fortunately I don’t have this affliction.
But here’s a story for you:
When I was a junior in college, my roommate, an Armenian-American named “Ray,” a senior, was the heavyweight on the wrestling team. We shared an apartment in the frat house – which was really a one man apartment – I lived in a 6×9 bedroom that was originally a walk-in closet.
Ray was a manly man. He was possibly one of the manliest men ever, although I suspect that Armenia is full of guys like Ray. Ray was 5’10, 250 lbs, fat, hairy, and strong. He chewed a tin of wintergreen Skoal a day; was the only one better than me at Goldeneye for N64; ordered pizza every night, shared it with me – and usually paid for it. He smelled like sweat, wintergreen, and Drakkar, and so did our apartment. Keep in mind that he could thrash “Z” – and did so often enough that Z quit the team in despair.
Ray was not really a ladies’ man. He had a lot of female friends from the womens’ sports teams and when we had a formal, he’d bring some hot basketball player as a date, but they were just friends. (I guess this proves Fatman right that things that guys think are awesome: Ray yelled at a pledge and scared him so bad he wet his pants – Ray could beat up anyone on campus – Ray once took a shit that was 36 inches long – are not alpha in terms of getting chicks)
Anyway, we had like 4 home meets a year, and most of our fans would just be the other sports teams when they got out of their practices. But since this meant that there’d be dozens of chicks that Ray knew in the stands, he would get pretty worked up about it and want to look his best. Or as good as a guy whose pledge name was “Ogre” could look in a tight-fitting green and black singlet.
So the night before the first home match that year, he approached me, shirtless, mouth full of Skoal.
Ray: Bro, I need to ask you a favor.
Me: Sure, man, what do you need?
Ray: Can you shave my back?
Ray: Come on, dude, not my whole back, just the part that sticks out from my singlet.
When he sat down backwards on a chair in the kitchen (our bathroom was too small and the frat house had the hygiene/sanitation standards of Dark Ages Europe), I saw that his back was all pimply and full of clotty cruddy whiteheads. I buzzed off the hair, but what could I do? I couldn’t go around them. There were too many. So I just mowed them down, trying not to splatter myself. He didn’t even flinch.
Ray: Thanks a lot, bro.
Me: No problem. You might want to get a towel, you’re bleeding a little.
By “a little,” I meant that his upper back looked like it had taken a blast of birdshot.
A month or two later, another frat bro popped into my apartment. He’d been roommates with Ray the year before, and was used to be on the wrestling team too.
“How is it living with Ray?” he asked.
“It’s pretty good, I guess,” I said.
“Tell me the truth – he makes you shave his back before home meets, doesn’t he?”
I admitted that this was true.
“Man, I know how it is. I had to do that shit last year. Fucking pimples everywhere. I can’t believe I didn’t throw up on him. Don’t ever say shit about that, though – he’s real touchy about it.”
Today Ray owns a jewelry store, and is a semi-professional blackjack and poker player. Saw him once since college, about 5 years ago. No idea if he’s married or who – if anyone – shaves his back these days.
New girl at the gym. She looked good and had abs, but I don’t even know why she came when all she did was bodyweight exercises, and use a 10 lb kettlebell. She was checking her iphone for her workout. She did one exercise that looked like she was climbing an imaginary versaclimber. It was pretty funny.
Future State Champ being trained by Jose. Watching this while I squatted. Jose has never been in a powerlifting meet. Talks about entering the meet in April. Will not enter. Said last year he’d enter bench-only if he could do 315. This year hit 315 (@175). Will not enter.
Apparently today’s workout was a lot of cable rows, and Jose was very emotional about how to do them, waving his arms around and explaining some crucial element of form. Jose is a good guy – he fixed my car in exchange for training advice – but not someone I would take powerlifting advice from.
After my workout, Jose came over to tell me that he has been having problems with the bench press program he got from PJ. It’s one of those pieces of shit where Week 1, Day 1 is like 60%x3x10, blahblahblah, and then Week 6, Day 3 is 105%x1x1. I told him that I thought percentage plans like that were pretty much bullshit. He replied that it worked the first two times he tried it.
Weight: 194.4 (+3.8)
Manta Ray Squat: 45×4, 135×3, 225×2, 280, 320, 355, 370, 385, 395, 400; 350,355,360,365,370,375×1, 350×2,2,2,2,2,2,2,3,2,1p
satisfied with my persistence.
Partial Squats #10: 405, 495, 545, 585
Dumbbell Bench Press: 30×30, 35×35, 40×25
Mil Press: 45×8, 95×3, 135×2, 160, 180; 135x4x3
Rope Pushdowns: 4 sets
Sumo Deadlift: 135×2, 205, 275, 345, 395, 420
Sumo Deadlift w/Light Bands: 135×1, 205×2, 215,225,235,245,255,265,275
Like this exercise. Also liked using the 45 lb bumpers, so the turd in the Underarmor football shirt doing garbage power cleans with approx 155 lbs next to me couldn’t use them.
Band Pulling: did it last night, will do again tonight.