sweat
Baby, It’s Cold Inside.
[This whimsical banter occured during summer time]
Let's face it, all women are COLD!!! They are like addicts, never willing to admit they are one with the problem. It's always someone else with the problem.
"Close the window! It's freezing in here!" she commands.
"Honey," I respond, "it's 78 degrees in here."
"LIAR!!!" she accuses. "That thermostat obviously is broken."
Reluctantly, I turn up the temperature, mindful of the huge power bill I will receive in the near future.
My son walks into the room, totally unaware of our conversation. She turns her attention to him.
"I'm not the one with the problem! I'm normal!" she screams, as if to convince herself and those around her.
My son looks at me with a quizzical look. We both shrug our shoulders. He continues on, out of the room without saying a word.
Once one woman starts complaining, every other female within 50-100 feet joins in a cacophony of WHINE.
Could be why the band Foreigner released the song, "You're as cold as ice!" Some songs really have a double meaning.
A quick observation reveals she is not wearing any socks, and that she is wearing a thin top and pants. I don't claim to be a genius, but I suggest to her that she might want to put on some socks and a sweater.
"That's not going to help any!" she barks back. "You don't love me. You want me to freeze in this igloo!"
"Men!" she mutters, as she stomps off down the hall. "They are so insensitive to our needs."
I'm left speechless…and sweating.
Joining a Health Club
People ask me if I'm "in shape." Is that a rhetorical question? I mean,you're standing in front of someone with an Adonis-like body, and you ask a silly question like that?
Of course I'm in shape. My shape just happens to be "round."
Part of my overall plan this year is to get healthy and develop the 6-pack rippling muscles that lie just slightly hidden under my skin. So, to actualize this reality, I joined a local health club along with my son.
Last night we went down to the club for our first father/son workout. My fellow athletes at the club must have been impressed with us as we walked in. Heads turned as they smiled at us and exchanged hushed words with each other. No doubt, it had been a long time since they have seen such fine specimens of men.
I was on the treadmill for at least 10 minutes. By then I was getting winded and began to build a sweat. My son running on the machine next me suggested I might want to turn the machine "on." "Oh!" I said. No wonder I'm building up such a sweat.
I next tackled the stationary bike. I looked at the chart that displays the recommended heart rate based on age. "Hmmm…," I said as I looked for my age. "There it is!" as I looked to the extreme right of the chart. Under my age it stated, "Get out the paddles, you're going to need them soon!" I figured they must have misspelled 'peddles."
Next, I tried the weight pull which required me, while seated, to pull a heavy weight to my upper chest. "Piece of cake!" I thought as my head turned and surveyed the other athletes, no doubt watching me and impressed with my every move by now.
"Wow! That's heavy!" I said to my son. "Maybe I should take a little weight off to make it easier."
He looked at the machine weight and responded, "Dad, it doesn't go any lower than 10-lbs."
"Never mind, I can do it!" Just to impress him more, I said, "Add another 40 lbs."
After 3 reps of 10, I "felt the burn!" I mean I was sweating and feeling uncomfortably hot.
Exhausted and looking for a way to get out of this metal jungle and still maintain my pride, I turned to my son and said, "OK son, I think you've challenged yourself tonight. You don't want to overdo it. Whadda-you say we call it a night?"
Thankfully, he agreed. Obviously, our muscles surging and pumping left quite an impression as we strutted out of the club.
This morning, my left am is in so much "PAIN!!!!" I can't even stretch it out straight. This exercise program may be the death of me yet.