DelBloggolo: SEX

Joe Smith started the day early having set his alarm clock (made in Japan) for 6am.
While his coffeepot (made in China) was perking, he shaved with his electric razor (made in Hong Kong).
He put on a dress shirt (made in Sri Lanka), designer jeans (made in Singapore) and tennis shoes (made in Korea).
After cooking his breakfast in his new electric skillet (made in India) he sat down with his calculator (made in Mexico) to see how much he could spend today.
After setting his watch (made in Taiwan) to the radio (made in India) he got in his car (made in Germany) filled it with gas (from Saudi Arabia) and continued his search for a good paying American job.
At the end of yet another discouraging and fruitless day checking his computer (made in Malaysia), Joe decided to relax for a while.
He put on his sandals (made in Brazil), poured himself a glass of wine (made in France) and turned on his TV (made in Indonesia), and then wondered why he can't find a good paying job in America.

Now that I have your attention, lets chat.

Its’ hot, steamy and sometimes can get sweaty, making people crazy with passion. Yes the gym is a strange place. Stranger still are the people like myself who can from time to time inhabit the place.

When I feel ambitious and want to work out early, I go around 6:00 am and workout for an hour. In that one hour I meet and hear and sometimes just observe the many whom workout and their particular habits I note with a certain glee. The ones I find the most interesting are the women, who workout alongside the men like they are doing everyone a favor.

The younger they are the more they bring in this aura of silence, a catlike walk and an ‘I know you are watching me, that’s why I came!” They dress in all black Spandex and sneakers, usually colorful. This attitude is very positive for us old guys who need something to look at as we beat the treads of the treadmills and the agony of the weight lifting and resistance equipment that we ply upon. I mean a nice looking tukus can’t help but make the time go by.

Then there are the middle aged ladies, these ladies are in near panic, fighting middle age bulge and the fact that they are older, have lost their cat-like walk and the fact that the only ones looking at them are their fellow exercisers of the same category. They bring a water bottles and wallet with a watch and along with a long face, work out very hard. They wear shorts and T’s, wouldn’t be caught dead in Spandex and don’t look around much. My sympathies go out to these brave ladies, they are doing something for themselves and although it will take a while to see results. I hope they do see it.

Finally we come to the older yet ladies. They have fallen over the edge and can’t get up, and are just like the men their age, or mine for that matter. Resigned that the best days are long gone, the only thing that matters now is that when we get down on the floor, we can get up again. There is no need for muscle or tone, although a little wouldn’t hurt. Fashion? What about it?

The guys are just the same: young men work out with weights and increase muscle mass, tone and attitude: “Huh, see these muscles pop, watch me give these weights a dramatic slam down on the ground and then see me strut. All young weightlifters have to have a strut: something to identify themselves with since giving out business cards is frowned upon. They wear baseball caps sometimes, with either muscle shirts or dark T-shirts that plug a rock group or some political affixation they have.

The middle-aged guys come with a suit and tie, which they carry into the locker room. They will work out, then take a shower and dress up for their jobs, they usually drive a Mercedes, or Lexus or some expensive car they are renting, and usually will charge outside in the middle of a workout if they hear a siren going by. A T-shirt with: a law school logo graces them while doctors come with a more serious attitude of let’s get this done in their coordinated attire.

Then there are the guys my age. What can I say? They come usually to socialize, do a little workout and compare their last meals and how to prepare them, or yet still, something they bought in bulk at Costco. Dress is a trip down memory lane, some T’s, some undershirts and socks, oh the socks. The legs look like they were borrowed from tree branches, and with every conversation comes a insulting “hello!” followed by a more insulting “Hello”. When they talk they include everyone around them, even those not paying any attention, as long as you are as old as they are. And so you have it.