Conversations at the gym

I love going to the gym, not only because I like to take care of myself and build muscle, but also because you get some extremely funny characters in the gym.

Especially in the south of Johannesburg. A normal topic of conversation is football, although I was not the best football player in the world, and it is not my number one supported sport, I do follow the game and favor the red half of Manchester.The majority of the enthusiasts at the gym like me favor the Red Devils, however there are the occasional Liverpool supporters, and because they are outnumbered, they are very vocal.

And I don't know if it is just me, but the Liverpool supporters are the biggest bunch of sour bastards in the world. Ok fine, this season they have a right to be because Manchester United have finally become the most successful team in England after passing Liverpool's record of 19 league titles. But in general they are just sour. Instead of congratulating another team on a fantastic win, they will bitch and moan.

I provide an excerpt of a conversation between me and a certain Mr H over a few tricep pull downs at the gym last night. Mr H is a huge Liverpool fan.

Me: Evening Mr H, did you watch any of the football this weekend?
Mr H: F##king Blackburn Rovers should be f##king banned from the league for life. Saturday's result was a f##king disgrace.
Me: Easy Mr H!
Mr H: F##k easy, your team just overtook my team as the most successful team in England all because Rovers took a cheaque to f##king fall apart in the second half for the point.

At this point Mr Wolf comes into the conversation who is quite possibly the biggest United fan at the gym. I am purposely leaving out names in this post because I don't want the whole gym after me like the Yanks went after Bin Laden.

Mr Wolf: F##KING HELL H, you are just sore because your team hasn't won anything since Istanbul 2005. Come the end of the month we will be not only champions of England but champions of Europe too!
Mr H: Are you sure about that Wolf?
Me: So sure that he has put the house on the result.
Mr H: So come Sunday the 29th Ill be pulling into the gym parking lot seeing Wolf sleeping in his car! Shame!
Wolf: Perhaps some rich bitch will find me, take pity on me, and offer to take me into her mansion on the hill here!

As we are about to move onto our next exercises, one of the biggest bullshitters in the South moves into the machine next to us and proclaims.

"Geez you people can talk shit! But I dont come here to train I come for the bints. Look at that Thai girl over there. If my wife had assets like hers I wouldn't be going out at nights!"

The south is the best place in the world to gym!

AGE JUST A NUMBER?

At what stage does one start feeling old?

There are a lot of theorems which prove that the Grim Reaper is edging closer, one is when your metabolism slows down, another is when it takes three days to recover from a SOFT hangover, yet another is when you pass on going out during the week because of work the next day, and finally when you don’t want to have causal fornication with a girl unless it is going to mean something because you actually care about her feelings!

A lot of people will tell you that age is just a number, oh and what a number it can be at times.

The biggest news since the start of my hiatus from this blog is that Hooters has made an appearance in South Africa. It comes as no surprise to find out then that it is one of my favourite haunts where significant trouble is sometimes caused.

The last time I hit Hooters was the weekend before my birthday and it was a visit of EPIC proportions. Because my bodyguard Adam ‘Stalker’ Lew was driving I thought that it would be a perfect opportunity to get ABSOLUTLY out of hand. I wont go into to much detail but lets just say that on the night I consumed five litres of beer, 2 jagerbombs, and two tequila’s. I am very proud of this as you can see.

No signs of being old there…so we decided to go to Hooters this past weekend to have a drink on India in anticipation of them winning the Cricket World Cup. The last three times I had been to Hooters, we had the ugliest waitress in the place serve us, so I was saying a few prayers that we would have at least a half decent waitress this time.

And boy was she decent. Curves in all the right places and a set of assets that was very welcoming. So India won the cricket and we had a litre of beer to the team because a South African led them to the title.

At some stage of the evening we got onto the debate on how old our waitress, Lee, was. I said that judging by her asset portfolio, she had to be at least 25. I never studied asset management at RAU, but I am quite proficient in the management of the types of assets we were discussing. Adam surprised me and asked her how old she was. Lee shocked us all when she revealed that she was 18. I refused to believe this, because they never made 18 year olds that were built like her when I was 18. So she reaches into her little pouch around her perfectly formed waistline and pulls out her drivers licence and low and behold, she was born in 1993!

So she left our table to see to her other customers and Adam rubbed salt in the wounds when he said: “You realise that you are 11 years older then this girl!” It was at that stage when he started fading and I was in no mood to be made feeling like a grandpa! So we asked for the bill, as she brought it to the table she asked, “What’s wrong boys? Feeling a bit old?” I grumbled that yes this was in fact the case, so she replied: “Why should you feel old? 24 is not old!” Now I haven’t been called 24 since I was 18, so she got a 50% tip as opposed to the customary 15%.

Time we entered Hooters: 19:30, time we left Hooters: 22:30

We are getting old son! We are getting old!