I spent about 10 minutes wondering if it should “I wish iwereEdward Norton” or “was”. I settled on was. let me know if i am wrong.
Anyhoo, this happened last night, but i wanted to save it cause its such a good story and deserves a post all by its lonesome. Feel free to come back and read it a few more times whilei am gone camping until Sunday. Go ahead, seethe with jealousy,Chandraeveryone.
So I was at the gym last night, in the free weight room with the fellas. There is a weird territorial vibe back there. You have to be really careful before you touch or move or use anything because you never know who may be “using it.” Its like being in a new school and you accidentally sit down at the popular kid’s table. (I, of course, don’t know what thats like, but im sure you guys can relate.)
I don’t have much trouble with this, for I am a little girl, and can play dumb/be cute/act coy/cry, and not get torn a new one. A man last night was not so lucky.
See, men like to max themselves out. They will pile on about 100 pounds too much, pump out 3 reps, scream as their tendons rip, and then walk around, all pissed like, for about 38.5 minutes until they are ready to do it again. usually they put a towel on the bench, or leave their water bottle, or something along those lines to mark their territory. Not this time.
I was watching this one guy, cause honeslty, he looked likeRainier Wolfcastlefrom the Simpsons.
I later learned her had a Russian accent which makes him a million times cooler.
So, Rainier walks up to a rack, piles a lot more weight on a bar and steps back to prepare to lift this massive load. Out of nowhere, this skinny/buff (think skinny fat, but the opposite) guy comes rushing over, takes one of the 35 pound weight plates off the bar Wolfie was about to use and hurls it across the room screaming about how that was his and he wasn’t done. I didn’t understand a lot of what he said because im pretty sure his mouth was full of ‘roids, but obviously he was pretty pissed. The weight room was immediately silent.
Now Wolfie was literally about twice this guy’s size, and could snap him in half with one hand if he so desired. We all waited to see Wolfie’s move.
I, and I’m sure I wasn’t alone in this, wanted Wolfie to scarecrow his ass with the barbell.
What did Wolfie do? He politely answered, “Sorry, dude, I didnt know it was yours,” in his thick Russian accent, and walked away.
Wolfie is a man of restraint, which I respect. I am not that reserved, and even though I had nothing to do with it, wished I could turn into The Hulk at that very moment and Hulk Slam* String Bean’s ass.
I was slightly disappointed in Wolfie, until he walked back, picked up the plate Stringie hurled, took off the other plate that was still on the bar, and said, “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” and walked away again.
If there was ever a time for a slow clap to being, that would have been it. Except, it was real life, so it didn’t.
Wolfie never disappoints. He is calm, cool and collected, which makes him uncomprable in The Badass Department. We could all learn a little from Wolfie. Mainly, Russians ain’t nothin’ to mess with.
* Hulk Slamming is the invention of my wonderful friend, Stephanie. Its a verb that means to pick anything up and slam it to the ground in a fit of rage, demolishing it; usually reserved as a threat for her boyfriend when he does not do what he is asked. Which is often.
Well, I’m out like trout for the weekend. Don’t think you don’t have homework. I would like each of you to leave me a fitness joke, as well as check out everyone else’s blogs that comment on my site.
Now, I’m trusting you alone for the weekend, so play nice. And if you burn the house down, just make sure you aren’t here when I get back