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Monday, February 19, 2007

What Had Happened
2/16 - 2/19

I am the type of guy that got both Friday and Monday off, so I'm recapping this nice long weekend, except for Monday since I didn't do anything very interesting other than watch the movie Bring it On late morning.

A few weeks ago I received a mailing from The Sports Club LA of DC for a free week at their gym. I'm fortunate enough to have a gym at work that only costs me $10.50/2 weeks, but they don't have shit like a lap pool, basketball courts (yes, I meant for that to be plural), steam room and sauna, and towels. Towels are the fucking key. There is something comforting about knowing that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of clean folded towels for you to wipe your nasty sweaty head on. There are enough towels that they really don't need toilets--you could just crap and pee into them. If you have been a regular reader for months, you may remember that while in LA for the Rose Bowl I visited the location in Irvine as a guest to an individual who can legitimately afford it. I had extremely fond memories, mostly of the active women, so I was definitely going to do the free trial.

I went in on Friday and met with the membership dude, who showed me around the place, showed me the initiation fee and monthly dues, then released me into the trial membership. Three hours later I left the place, determined to somehow afford it. How much is it? $143/month, plus $350 initiation fee. Totally worth it. I was really happy that I wore my contacts so that I could see while working out, unlike how I just take my glasses off when working out at the gym at work, where sharp vision would give me a sharper view of the spandex covered gunts in the gym and naked bodies of retirement-aged men in the locker room who are way too comfortable with their johnsons hanging out on display.

The women at SCLA were phenomenal. One of them had possibly the best ass I have ever seen. I noticed (as did about five other dudes, and not in a subtle way) her as she was doing an exercise where her front foot was on a stabalizing bubble-stand thing, her front knee was bent about 90 degrees, and her back leg rested on one of those big stabilizing balls. in her hands were some dumbells. She was in this position doing dips, bringing her front knee from straight to 90 degrees. Her ass seemed to be getting quite a workout. I imagined how nice it would be to put one of those really long circus balloons between her cheeks so that she could squeeze the air from the middle to the two ends.

I went back to the SCLA on Saturday and worked out for another three hours. Just like on Friday, it was great. I watched part of the Bush race on an exercise bike (all of the cardio machines have lcd tv's with lots of channels built in). There is something special about watching cars going around in a circle while on an exercise bike or a treadmill.

Saturday night I went with friends of mine to another all-you-can-drink/eat event at the National Zoo. Animals that were determined to be comfortable around young drunk professionals were brought out by zoo employees to everyone's delight.

left: armadillo that is able to curl up into a ball right: little hedgehog from Madagascar.

This was a Brazilian Carnival themed event with open beer/wine bars and food stations, and featured a Brazilian rum-based mixed drink, Brazilian themed products for sale and to bid on, and really hot female Brazilian dancers dressed in fancy thongs, decorative bras and headpieces full of feathers. There was ample sideboob on all performers, and their bottoms were such that I also imagined how nice it would be to put one of those really long circus balloons between their cheeks so that they could squeeze the air from the middle to the two ends. After the main performance, I stopped the most elaborately dressed dancer and asked if my girlfriend and I could have our picture taken with her. I don't think she really wanted this to happen, but we flanked her and I passed my crappy digital camera to a rotund older gentleman and asked him to take the picture for me. It was going to be a great picture...but dickhead put his finger in front of the lens, resulting in this:

For some reason, I appear to have a black eye.


My friend Jared's gf was out of town last weekend, leaving him with access to her vehicle. Jared proposed that this vehicle be used to transport himself, The Battleship, and I from DC to the nearest Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the Great American Race, the Daytoner fov hunnert. Two locations were about the same distance away, with one in Fredricksburg, VA and the other somewhere in Maryland. The location in VA looked easier to get to, so Jared called to see if the race would be prominently featured. The guy laughed at him, and when we arrived after the sixty mile drive, we realized that it was an appropriate reaction to the question. There was a large projection screen in every direction, all showing the race. Smaller televisions to the sides of these screens showed channels that were entirely devoted to individual drivers. So you could look over from the main race to see exactly where certain drivers, such as Tony Stewart, were on the track, without interruption for commercials.

The Battleship clearly had the highest tolerance for hot sauce, dominating six "hot" and three "mango habenero" wings in a few minutes. It probably took me fifteen minutes to handle the three mango habeneros, but at least I got the job done. The wing totals for the the three of us were 33 for me, 30 for Jared, and 15 for the Battleship. The Battleship made up for this number by downing several double jack and cokes in the second half of the race.

We were probably the only ones in the bar without NASCAR gear on, which I have to say is the tackiest of all sports apparell. I enjoy NASCAR races, but I could never walk around as an advertisement for the sponsor of a driver. In a previous post I wrote that NASCAR fans include rednecks. After going to this bar, I think it is probably fair to say that most NASCAR fans are what northerners such as myself consider to be rednecks. They seemed to be a fine breed, however. I didn't notice any confederate flag shirts on anyone. There were also a few African American race fans there for the race as well, or possibly just getting there early for the All-Star game starting later in the evening, an event that Michael Wilbon has called "Black Thanksgiving".

The race itself was very entertaining, especially at the end. I won't go into the details as there are other sources out there for that. I will pass along a comment that I made during the Gillette commercial where the guy does the fly-by with toy jets (before some event I can't remember--was it his kid's first shave?) that Jared and the Battleship enjoyed.
I'd like to do a fly-by like that right before I ejaculate.

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