Champion of the Day: Circuit Breaker Dude

There's a new 24 Hour Fitness Lite on Piedmont Ave. That name is deceiving -- this is one of those circuit training gyms and there's nothing "lite" about constantly moving from station to station in non-stop intervals. The gym itself is pretty small, just workout equipment, a bathroom, and lockers. No pool, aerobics, weights, or locker rooms. You just show up, work the circuit and leave.

First you start by warming up on a treadmill or elliptical machine, then after about seven minutes you move on to the equipment. There are machines that work every part of your body -- I really hate the bosu ball, by the way.


So the object is to move from station to station and go all out at each machine for about a minute. A chime goes off on the overhead loudspeaker to let you know when to move on to the next exercise. I've done this a couple of times already and it kicks your ass pretty good. So last night, I was getting into the swing of the circuit when all of a sudden there's this guy sitting at the bench press machine and he wasn't moving. He was doing regular sets of presses. I was like, "...umm...excuse me, are you doing the circuit?"

And he goes, "...nah...the place is pretty empty so I figured..."

Figured what? You'd just screw up everyone else's workout by doing whatever the hell you want? Nice, jerk. I just moved past him to the next machine and watched the other people get annoyed when they came up on this guy using random machines. Finally an employee went up to the guy to set him straight. Dummy.

Clever boy.

One of the regular occurences on Piedmont Avenue is seeing people asking for donations. Not panhandling (but there's plenty of that, too), but people looking for you to contribute to whatever cause they're out there for. It's admirable work, but hitting up Piedmont Avenue is like shooting fish in a barrel considering all the richie rich and bleeding hearts walking around (not a knock, just an observation). I however, am just a man trying to make it in the universe (just like Jango), so my most important worthy causes include rent and groceries.


Last week on a grocery run, I stopped on a corner where some high-school kid was signing people up for something. He saw me getting ready to cross the street and said, "Excuse me sir, can I talk to you for a little bit?"

I looked at him and threw out, "I have to get going, sorry," and then started to cross the street. I got about halfway across when I heard him say just loud enough for me to hear, "...sorry people help."

Wow. He hit me with that like a pro. Well-timed and well-delivered. I wonder how many people actually turned back from the guilt and gave him money?

The dead-neighbor scare adventure.

I was sitting at my computer waiting for my laundry to finish when there was a knock at my door. It was CanadaGirl from the apartment upstairs. She explained she needed my help to check on the elderly woman next door to her. The old woman had left her keys in her door and they'd been there for two days. CanadaGirl called the building manager and he asked her to check what was going on, but to bring someone with her.

So I put on my beanie and my jacket and headed upstairs in my pajamas with CanadaGirl. As I made my way to the door I could see the keys in the deadbolt. CanadaGirl threw out a warning, "...watch out for the spider." She wasn't kidding. Hanging down from above the front of the door was a GIANT SPIDER. Kind of like Kumonga, the spider on Monster Island that spit out all that random webbing into the air and somehow managed to trap Godzilla.


We acutally had to duck under Kumonga's web to get to the door. So there we were stuck between two horrors. A giant spider behind us and a possibly very dead neighbor in front of us. So not cool.

CanadaGirl had made an attempt earlier at knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell, but got no answer. It was my turn to do that, too, and I got the same results. Next I nervously turned the key in the deadbolt to unlock it. I pulled out the key trying to make as much noise as possible with the hope that if anyone was alive on the other side that they'd come and answer the door--or we would stupidly get shot for breaking in to someone's apartment.

After moving the key to the doorknob and unlocking it, I turned the knob and threw out a "Hello?" into the open crack. I quickly found that I couldn't open the door all the way because as CanadaGirl put it, "...THERE'S SOMETHING ON THE GROUND BLOCKING THE DOOR..."

I just about pooped my pants.

It was at that point we both started yelling into the apartment to make sure somebody was in there, and I slowly kept pushing the door open to move whatever was on the ground--and really really hoping an arm or a leg didn't plop down on the floor.

I let out a huge sigh of relief when I saw the old woman come shuffling down her hallway from inside the apartment towards us. CanadaGirl let out a huge, "There you are! We were so worried!" And we saw that it was a bag of groceries that was blocking the door. After some apologies, we gave the old woman her keys and I headed back down to my place--just in time to catch the beginning of the Lex-mas episode of Smallville.

The hungry Ektorp delivery man.

I hate when you're given a ridiculous window of time when waiting for a delivery or some sort of service. In my case I had to be home today from noon to 4pm to wait for my Ektorp couch from Ikea.

So I came home from work early and waited. I started some laundry and made some lunch. Then I threw Batman Begins in my DVD player so I could watch it for like the fifth time. Finally around 2pm my doorbell rang to herald the arrival of my 3-piece sofa.

I opened the door and told the guy this was the place -- he was sort of the big Biz Markie type. So i shuffled some of my existing furniture out of the way and waited for the couch to come up the stairs. After a little while I noticed that the delivery guy was by himself -- what the hell was that? What company sends its furniture delivery guys out by themselves? So there's my new 7-foot long couch wrapped in plastic teetering precariously on a hand-truck -- the couch was stood up so that it towered over the lone delivery guy.

After some fancy hand-truck work, the couch was finally in my apartment. I knew the etiquitte was to offer the delivery guy a drink, but before I could even do that he asked, "...are you baking some tasty treats?"

Wha?

That really caught me off guard. I took a whiff of the air and confusingly said, "...umm...no, I just had some leftover chili for lunch. Do you want a bottled water?"

After he left I figured out he was probably smelling the snickerdoodle candle I had lit earlier.

Old ladies in cars hate me.

I was driving home one night and looking for parking on my street. After driving around for about ten minutes I was starting to get frustrated. Seriously, I could settle and park two or three blocks away - the walk isn't bad - but I'm totally spoiled because it's usually very easy to find a spot within 50 yards from my apartment.

There's a long strip of sidewalk in front of an apartment complex across from my place, five cars can easily fit along that curb. I noticed a mini-van pulling in to the end of the line, I groaned that I missed my chance at the spot, BUT WAIT! There's actually TWO SPOTS AVAILABLE! I pulled up a little behind, but alongside, the van to wait for the old lady inside to finish her parallel parking, but all of a sudden I see her stepping out of her car! SHE PARKED RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TWO EMPTY SPACES!!! WHAT THE HELL!

I rolled down my window and asked her if she could move her car forward a couple of feet so I can fit in behind her, but she looked at me and said, "I'm not leaving..." and nodded her head.

"No, I mean you're taking up two spots, if you move ahead a little I can park" I said back.

"You want to park? I'm not leaving!"

"That's not what I'm saying -- PLEASE move your car ahead a little!"

And then a woman who was sitting out on her second floor balcony joined in to try and help me, "Ma'am," she said, "you can move ahead a little and then he can park right behind you! You're in two spots!"

The old lady was either not getting it or just being a dumb bitch, "I can't--I have an appointment," she scowled and then stormed off.

"LAZY ASS!" I yelled. The lady on the balcony laughed at that comment and then shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

Wow. I forgot I had this.

That's not true at all. But I do admit I have been negligent. Maybe I could just pull a Billy Joel and list a bunch of stuff that's happened to me lately and let you decipher what's going on. Umm, just don't try singing - -this is free form.

Freelancing. Hash browns at Ruth's Chris. Morning coffee runs -- large with 3 splenda and non-fat, and a medium iced with a shot of bittersweet. Absolute Watchmen. Wine and dinner with Big Cherry. Macworld dreams. A tub of Vietnamese fried rice and a phone number. QT with the nephew. Trick or treating in the rich neighborhood --full-size candy bars, bitches. Pecan pancakes. The desert island game and defending my choices of who I'd want to be stranded with.

Hittin' the Piedmont trail.

I've started taking long walks around my neighborhood to keep myself in fighting trim (what I'm fighting for is debateable, but it's the walking that's important). And these aren't casual walks, mind you. These are brisk walks. And when I say "brisk," I don't mean super-gay jog-walking, I mean a good, normal, fast walk.

But it's not even that easy. While I'm admiring the scenery of million dollar homes I'll never afford, I'm also navigating the rough, uneven sidewalks of Piedmont. Y'see, the area may have it's richie-rich parts, but it's been around a while so the sidewalks and streets can be a little rough. And did I mention the 75-degree incline hills? I'm just glad I don't have to push boulders up these neighborhood mountains.

I saw a lady pushing a baby carriage up one of the hills today and all I could think of was hoping that her baby wasn't too heavy and that she doesn't lose control or I'd have to chase a carriage down a hill in slow motion -- like that staircase scene in The Untouchables, only without bullets flying everywhere and Andy Garcia sliding in with the last minute save.

That's about right.

I made a call the other day to a girl I'd dated a couple of times.

"Hey, Cute Betty, did you want to maybe catch Corpse Bride sometime next week?"

"...um. That would be cool, but I live in Philadelphia now."

"--you didn't answer the question."

I really need to stay on top of these things.

Worlds collide.

I saw a weird thing the other day while driving home on 40th the other night. There were some kids at a bus stop waving toy lightsabers at each other. But these weren't your run of the mill lightsabers mind you, the handles were made up to look like Spider-man's head.

So you've got Spider-man's head with a laser sword extending and pulsating out the top of it. What kind of boot-legging GENIUS came up with this concept? And what kind of backstory would explain the need for Spider-man lightsabers?

In the future is there some mystical order of knights who's teachings are based on the lesson that "with great power comes great responsibility" - is that it? That actually makes perfect sense.

My mind is blown.

Butt-ugly German DJs.

The art director at the magazine I work at was on leave because his wife just had a baby. So I had to pick up the art director duties in his absence. This was kind of exciting because I got to design my very first cover.

Unfortunately, the cover artist was fugly.

The photo shoot took place on some island off the coast of Spain, so I'm sure there was plenty of partying to be had. When the photos came in, they were all ...how should I put it? ...NOT cover-worthy.

For some reason the shoot was at some old run-down mission and everything looked all rocky and craggy. And that was just the DJ's face. The landscape was pretty rough-looking to match.

The DJ himself wasn't even dressed for a cover shoot. That is, unless Germans think being on the cover of an American magazine means you have to look like a redneck with your hair in a mullet, a sleeveless muscle-T, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. I'm sure he just wanted to pose against a few rocks for an hour and then go back to chasin' rave tail.