The Specimen and A. Guy: A Private Moment RecountedAt lunch today, I went to the gym I just joined--let's call it We Hate New Members Fitness Center. As I'm walking into the lobby, I see a specimen walking in behind me.
Spec-i-men, n.1. An individual who lifts weight eighteen hours a day and takes steroids the other six.
This guy was so jacked up, his blemishes had muscles. His arms were so big that he had to brush his teeth via remote control.
What made this particular specimen unique is that he was holding, in his left hand, another specimen. This specimen, though, appeared to be made out of bronze or wood.
I looked closely to see if the bronze specimen was holding yet another specimen, perhaps made out of cardboard, but I didn't see one. It was disappointing, because I was keen on the possibility of a Russian nesting doll moment.
So the human specimen walks up to the front desk of the gym and is greeted by A. Guy, who works behind the counter.
"What up, man?" asks A. Guy.
"I won it," says the specimen, lifting his mini-specimen. "The Manimal Southwest Muscles and Acne Championships." Or something like that.
At this moment, I have a clear vision of the future. I think to myself there can be no justice in this world if he says anything but 'AWESOME, dude!'
"AWESOME, dude!" says A. Guy.
A dream, granted.
I'm swimming a mile four days a week now. I used to run quite a bit, and I had friends who would always complain that they wanted to run but couldn't get into a routine because it was just too 'boring.' Well, I've got news for you. Compared to swimming laps in a pool, running is a lifetime free pass to Disneyworld.