Friday, October 21, 2005

in lane 2, of romania...

I’m delighted to report that I witnessed a bizarre and amazing occurrence this morning. Yet again, I’ve found that if I’m able to drag my ass out of bed at 6 and take it to the gym, I’m rewarded with not only the satisfaction of having burned my calories for the day, but the pure joy of a gratis freak show.
My ghetto gym contains a pool, a pool which was the very reason I joined my ghetto gym. Turns out, the pool has 2 deal breakers which keep me from ever using it. The first is that when I go swim laps, even at 4am, there’s an array of obese, middle-aged Asian men in Speedos who sit in the adjoining hot tub and stare. They make no bones about it, unapologetically eyeing every inch of every woman as we rapidly enter or exit the pool. These men make no consideration for our discomfort or self-consciousness, nor seem to mind the blatant obviousness of their rude gawking. We’re women, after all. This is why we’re here.
The second reason I won’t use this pool is because it smells unequivocally of feces.
Had you been in the lobby of GhettoGym this morning, peering through the dingy windows onto the pool below, you would have found what appeared to be a swim meet. Two gentlemen, complete with competition swimsuit, swim cap and goggles, vigorously raced, cheered on by a mildly enthusiastic beer-bellied man with the San Francisco Giants logo tattooed across the enormity of his torso.
The apparent seriousness of this race was lost on no one, and I found myself one of about 15 standing at the window watching the madness.
The race abruptly ended, the winner going so far as to pump his fist in the direction of Giants logo. Had I been like the rest of the spectators and taken that moment to be the end of the spectacle, I would’ve missed it. But the gods were with me and the stars aligned. I remained peering through that window just long enough to see the winner offer the loser his hand. With great seriousness and sportsmanship, they shook and exited the pool. I was hoping for a trophy ceremony, flag raising and national anthem, but they’ve yet to organize their Olympiad to that degree. None the less, it’s 7:56 am and my day is made…


a fan said...

I know that gym. I think I've even seen you there. But I can't be sure and I didn't want to freak revealing my Spots blog addiction. Anyway,

The pool DOES smell like feces. For that very reason. But I know something even worse.

The steamroom?

Yeah, full of semen. Completely covered in semen. Wall to wall, like a booth at Big Al's.
I know this for a fact. I repeat, this information is fact.

That being said, I love your blog. It's always a treat to see new ones and you've given me many, many chuckles. Have you ever thought about writing a column?

Spots said...

Yikes. On several counts.

But thanks. I think...

Amy said...

Nice! Bethy's got another crazy fan. Stalking you at the gym?
I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Other than the fact that every time you go to "GhettoGym" now, you'll be looking around asking yourself, "Is that my fan?"
Although, he/she brings up a good point. You should write. You know. Like, as a job. Do people get paid for that?
Oh, and stop listening to Nelly.

BTW: hilarious MySpace profile. Nice work. Wait, I sound like a crazy fan. Oh Beth, you're so funny. I just love you soooooooo much. I wanna be just like you.
Love you, girl.