Working it out

Sad news for Willow. Send her some warm thoughts.

I have joined a gym. I have also cajoled J into joining the gym since purchasing a couples membership was much more economical and also he is less grumpy when he gets some exercise (driving in rush hour commute every day might just kill him). He was hesitant at first because the gym membership guy is named Faustino ("Are you crazy? You don't make deals with guys named Faust."), but I quickly convinced him that it was an overall good idea, and besides it was Faust who made the bad deal, not the other way around.

The gym itself is very fancy pants, with warm lighting and wood lockers, and brand new equipment. If you are a little richer than me, you can upgrade your gym package to include one spa treatment a month. The little studio where I can do yoga and pilates has a long glass wall that overlooks the mountains, which might be the biggest improvement possible from the dank basement of Harbor Fitness in Park Slope. I was even impressed with the first yoga class I took there. The instructor scored big points for not being a pompous jerk who insulted me the entire class.

Along with the membership, you get an hour-long evaluation with someone who presumably straps things to your body to measure heart rate and has you do things reminiscent of those Presidential Fitness tests you had to complete in elementary school. This makes me nervous for several reasons, the first of which being that when I went jogging yesterday on the treadmill, there were somethings jiggling that didn't jiggle before. That's embarrassing. In fact, the whole setup is just primed for embarrassment. The evaluator will be like: lift these weights! And I will be like: I've just dislocated something! I told J I'd have to work out for a couple weeks before taking the evaluation, and he said that was like brushing your teeth before going to the dentist.
Although in my defense: who doesn't brush their teeth before going to the dentist?

Denver bus scenes

Very crowded bus

Thug: Yo, they should not be letting any more people on this bus. They should kick some people off.

Thug 2: Nah, if they pay a dollar fifty, they get to ride the bus. Shoot, if anyone tried to kick me off this bus I'd be like, "I paid a dollar fifty, I'm suing you for a hundred and fifty THOUSAND."

(pause)

Thug 2: Then we'd settle out-of-court for twenty thousand.

* * *

Effeminate man to woman holding small green purse covered in quarter-sized colored rhinestones: WOW! That is a UNIQUE purse! That is not something you see every day. That is really something special there.

Woman with purse: Target. Five bucks.

Effeminate man: Really? Well you got yourself a deal. That is just great purse, and I'm not even a purse guy.

Woman with purse: Thank you. It has these little feet on the bottom to protect it.

Effeminate man: What a unique purse. My ex-wife would love it.