Had a doctor’s appointment last week. It was cause we moved, just the introductory appointment thing. Mine was at 9 AM, wife had one at 10. They said that we could have one together to save time. I’d rather not, thanks:
Doctor: So do you have any concerns?
Me: Can you take a look at my anus?
Karena: FEMININE VAGINAL ISSUES.
Not only that, but we got the two kids. “You can bring them too; it’s not a problem; it won’t take very long,” the people at the office said.
Rex: Are you a real doctor? How come you are a woman? Do you have breasts? Do you play minecraft? Are you from China? You look like my grandma. I think I’m sick.
Quincy: No! No! Mama! Dada! Abba! [brother] Elmo! No! Cookie! No! No! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Nah, I don’t think so.
So I went first, and called my wife when I got there to tell her how long it took, how to find the place, etc. (This is at a military base btw). She put the kids in the car and drive over in the other car. Then when I was done, she’d go inside, I’d drive the kids home, and she’d take my car home.
When I was checking in at the front desk, the doctor came out and we exchanged pleasantries. She then looked at this chick sitting down close to the window who was maybe 19, blond, 5’8 and thin, wearing a t-shirt and short running shorts.
Doctor: And you must be Mrs. Christmas?
Hot Chick [looking up from magazine]: Huh?
Me: Come on honey, let’s go in the back for our appointment and remove our clothing.
Okay, fine, I didn’t actually say that. It might have been funny to call her “Karena” and act impatient, like her joke of pretending not to know me was wearing thin. But there’s a fine line between “funny” and “creepy,” I’ve noticed.
Also, she was reading a pregnancy magazine, so no thanks. On the other hand, all the magazines in the waiting room were pregnancy magazines, so you never know.
Some guy who may have been like a senior in high school and looked a little like a more muscular Spicoli came into the gym and looked longingly at the bench, then slumped his shoulders and resigned himself to benching on the Smith machine. He was pretty strong, I guess, I think he worked up to 295 or maybe even 315 (it was hard to tell because I was also using all the 45s so he had to use a lot of smaller plates)
I’d pushed some benches out of the way to make room to deadlift. Where I’d pushed them was right in front of the dumbbell rack. I was the only one in the gym at the time. I mean there is no real “place” for them anyway. But instead of moving them, Spicoli reaches over them to take the 50 lb dumbbells and stands in this cramped little spot to do curls.
Me: You can move the bench if you want, man, I’m not using it.
Spicoli: Do you do crossfit?
Spicoli: Cause you have all the, like, clothes, and stuff.
Me: Oh. [puts headphones back on]
Final story, I’ll save the rest for tomorrow:
I often proclaim that I hate people; I don’t want anyone to talk to me, I just want to be left alone, etc. However, whenever I go somewhere (e.g. the Y, the other gyms, my son’s jiu-jitsu practice) I end up meeting people, learning their names, and then engaging in conversations.
On the other hand, my wife frequently says that she would like to make friends, but she’s (in her own words) the kind of person who could go to something every week for a year and never talk to anyone.
So she took my son to his 2nd Cub Scout meeting, and decided that she would try making a friend.
She smiled at this woman who was there with a little girl, maybe 4 years old.
(BTW she demonstrated this smile for her mother and I; we both used words like “scary” and “forced grimace” to describe it)
They made some stilted small talk, then the little girl interrupted:
Girl: Mommy, I want to play with them.
Mom: No, we’ll take you to girl scouts later.
Mom: Uh, after this is over.
Karena: OH IS THERE A GIRL SCOUTS MEETING AFTER THIS?
Mom (softly): No.
Squat: …380; 305×3
Not sure why this took so long, I didn’t have anywhere to be afterwards, it was a gray day, and there was no one in the gym for most of my workout – all three of which made me a bit lethargic.
Oh, this woman drove up in a Pest Control truck, and came into the weight room. She was in her 40s-50s, chubby/gym teacher looking, and carrying a metal can with a wand attached via hose. She sprayed whatever poison it was around the joint between the walls and the floor. She started over by the treadmills and worked her way around to where I was.
SMITH MACHINE xxx SQUAT RACK xxx BENCH PRESS
If the above is the arrangement, she squirted the liquid by the x’s. I was kind of concerned though. Isn’t this sort of thing normally done when nobody is in the gym? On the other hand, she was wearing shorts, a tank-top, and sandals, so I didn’t want to seem like too much of a pussy.
Me: So, whatcha got there, some DDT?
Exterminatrix: Haw haw haw! Naw hun, just gettin’ rid of some of your spotters.
Which I thought was pretty funny, though a bit cryptic, until I realized some minutes later that she’d actually said “spiders”.
The really funny thing is that the two foam rubber puss pads, and a leather belt and a neoprene belt that belong to the gym were lying in those x’s – and she just doused them like they weren’t even there. Another reason to buy your own belt…