Warped Fireside Chats

Well, real quick and since it is late, I thought I’d post my Hotel workout for tonight. I finally get a break from the road this holiday weekend and for the next two weeks….After that, it’s another three weeks on the road…..Blows? Yes! but hey, whatcha gonna do, right? Gotta pay the bills and it’s funny how bills work, if you don’t pay ‘em, they don’t go away. As a matter of fact, they somehow, get bigger…..huh, how does that work?

 I apologize for digressing there…..Get to the training doofus, right?

Here goes and remember this is in a hotel with a dilapitated circa middle eighties Universal machine and a generic circa Costco magnetic resistence bike:

Wide grip pull-downs - 6 X 20 - 200 lbs (stack)

Close grip pull-downs (underhand) - 5 X 15 - 200 lbs (stack)

Wide grip low-pulleys 7 X 20 - 155 lbs.

Close grip low-pulleys (overhand) 6 X 15 - 155 lbs.

Roman sit-ups (twisting) 5 X 20

Bike 30 minutes….It stated that I burned 300 calories…..(Hey, that’s 30 grams of fat, cool deal)

Lesson number one when training on the road: Look for a muscle burn and pump, rather than trying to build new muscle. It’s all about feel people, when you’re on the road. I get great pumps with the medium weight and higher reps.

Lesson number two: Try to take in less calories than you are burning.

More later……

As an auditor, I do a lot of traveling and with that, must attend lunch meetings quite often. Most times, the food that is made available, while most definitely tasty, is horrendous when it comes to nutritional value. I offer up as an example, the catered Italian fare provided for an all department meeting I attended today: Tube Pasta with Heavy Butter Sauce, Sausage and Peppers, Garlic Bread and Anti-Pasta Salad in (more than likely), full fat Italian dressing.

HHHhhmmm: not much for the dieting bodybuilder who is now seeing some nice vascularity and cuts. What a conundrum, yes?

Because I am not so sure of the right action here, I ask this tough question: Would it have been better to eat nothing, eat small portions of one or all of the items…..What should I have done?

As it often does, it shocked me when the numbers on the scale struggled mightily to reach two-hundred and ten pounds. Sure, I can look in the mirror and see that the cuts and vascularity which had long since left are grudgingly coming back, but it always is painful to see the scale going in a direction you are not necessarily looking for. Now, don’t get all weird on me and stuff, I’m gonna continue on with the leaning phase for a minimum of two more months, to see how lean I can get… All I’m saying is……’Oh bulking phase, Oh bulking phase….wherefore art thou, bulking phase?’

Absolutely, I am trying to lose fat! What other reason would a sane (this is probably debatable for reasons other than the diet, BTW) adult prepare and gratefully consume a giant troft of spinach greens, carrots, edema me, broccoli, snap peas, almonds, egg whites, and chicken breast a few times a day? And sure, the absence of 6,000,000 milligrams of sodium and 140,000,000 milligrams (might be exaggerated) of other ingredients used in processing, has me feeling like a newborn baby buried deep inside his Mama’s bosom, but HEY, I love getting BIG…BBBBIIIIIGGGGG (low-growly voice works best when saying last word)…BIG, is what I have wanted for ooohhhhh sssoooo long now. I’ve spent the last twenty-one years putting on fifty pounds of muscle all the while lifting the big weights. I love moving heavy iron…BIG IRON. It has defined me…..

 Yep, I love to scream loud and proud when moving some hefty steely-grained material in ways most……yes sir!! most individuals can only dream of. I still remember moving my first four-hundred pound bench press in the Air Force….Granted, it was at Grissom AFB and by many standards, a small base, but it felt good to be the bench press king for awhile. I remember pushing the heavy stuff back at Texas Tech University, in the REC at 1100 PM at night, when only a few twisted iron-freaks were still wreaking havoc on their already blistering with fire muscles. UUUURRRRAAAAHHHH, I’m getting the goose-flesh right now just thinking about those days (You too?)…..Great bonfire’s of Chicken Breast and Flax based cereal flakes, yes those chills and tingles are all up and down my spine and neck…..Euphoria central right here folks….That……that right there is what the heavy lifting is all about.

You scream, you look at the impossible, you clap your hands and watch the chalk fly all around you…..right before you take up that barbell (that is begging you to take some plates off it), and slam a few reps out with it. The tremendous thunderclap produced by the ungodly amount of weight falling back on to the poor bench, will make you an iron pushing addict for life!!! I AM SEETHING WITH UNBRIDLED PASSION RIGHT NOW….SO HIGH….SO ON FIRE…..WOW, MAMA GET ME OFF THIS CRAZY THING……Okay….coming down now……calming down…in with the good, out with the bad…..alright I’m back….sorry about that, I can’t help it sometimes.

Look, I’m all about the girls checking out my abs when I’m at the park, swimming in the ocean, running naked through the mall (whoops, that slipped out), or whatever, but I also love the tight fitting shirts, the big lifts and listening to co-workers who haven’t seen me in sometime say, “Holy Muscle builder Bat Man (they might not say that first part), what in the name of the African sparrow’s mating dance (or this) are you doing to get so big?” Yeah, that’s an ego-booster right there…..what can I say??

Welp, gotta go, there’s a giant troft of green stuff waiting for me, and OH YEAH, I am shaking with foamy mouthed anticipation……TBC…..

So…..you know I started this cutting phase about a month ago and ironically, that is about when I discovered this body space thing too. Honestly? At the time, I figured it would just be another normal cutting phase that I have done for the last four to five years every time summer is about to roll around. My typical cutting phase generally lasts about three months and I’ll usually lose about ten to fifteen pounds or in total body weight perspective….usually I’ll go from 225 to 215 or 210. As in the past, I was fully ready to lose those same monotonous few pounds, shed a bit of fat and be ready to do the shirtless yard work / park thing. However, something happened on the way to the NORM! Lights, camera, recorder, make-up, props……cue epiphony……Ladies and Gents, I give you BODYSPACE!! Oh hello Mama!

Let me tell you what: This bodyspace thing is a very powerful mechanism for making a real (that’s right…REAL) difference. I have gone from the, "oh well, ho-hum it’s another workout and another cutting phase," to, SWEET MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, I AM ON FIRE ABOUT THIS OPPORTUNITY TO BLAST THE KAPOOPY (Yes, I have kids) OUT OF MY MUSCLES AND I WILL BE ONE SHREDDED BEAST!

Sadly, before one month ago, I had given up on my dream of someday competing, opting to just accept my slightly above-average physique. Well, not anymore my friends!! Oh yes……I will compete someday and listen to me now, hear me later…..I will (WILL) be an elderly version of a younger Arnold!!!! (Or maybe a younger Dorian for you JelitaM)

Yes that’s right folks…..coming soon to a town near you: the freakishly-semi-almost-mass monster, with beyond close-to just-shy-of razor cut papery (I know, not a word, it just fit) thin skinned Body Auditor!!!

In short, because of the swell and very informative ladies (sexy too BTW) and gents on this site, I am reinvigorated and very much so bent on adding some muscle, while cutting down, before my new contest-goal-date of, "first show after I turn 39 in April of next year." Mark it on your calendars, put it in your PDA’s, annotate your GroupWise, or whatever memo device you might use, because in April 2008, I will be bringing it!

BA OUT!

THIS BODY FUELED BY THE GOOD FOLKS AT BODYSPACE.COM.

THANKS TO ALL!!! AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

I came, I saw, I learned.

I acted, I reacted, I listened.

I adjusted, I overcame, I conquered.

I enjoyed, I rested, I endulged.

I soured, I focused, I recommitted.

I went, I did, I defeated.

I savored, I taught, I encouraged.

I reminisced, I rested, I left.

Born, lived, died!

Life……Live it to the fullest.

At sixteen, I would suspect that, in the midst of trying to be a man, I had a pride level unmatched by that of any other person in history. With raging hormones, growth spurts, and new muscles popping everywhere, I rode a high that is for the most part, almost undescribeable. Heavy into sports and athletics, with an attitude that exuded uncaring ferocity, I pretty much thought I was (in today’s terms) the bomb. My crap surely didn’t stink, I was surely the strongest and hottest dude around, and phhhaaa, don’t even think of messing with me, unless you enjoy a great deal of pain and agony…..because hello! I would bring the THUNDER!!

Reality? Yeah, I was a doofus / butt wipe who just happened to have a few new muscles and a crazy / into everything reputation (yep, that’s what I mean), due large in part to a senior girl I dated as a freshmen…..and yes, it was everything you can imagine!

So, the chance meeting with a former Mr. El Paso, was actually a point in my life, that I can legitimately say was a turning point in my life….not so much the meeting, but a subsequent workout with him.

He just happened to be giving a seminar one Sunday afternoon, where he was addressing the evils of street drugs and alcohol. He was big into living a clean lifestyle and spoke of the many demons he once lived his life according to. Dennis Diaz was his name, and I listened intently to what he was saying, because of the bodybuilding title he had won. I still remember him flexing his monster biceps and doing a couple shoulder presses with us before he began the speaking part of his presentation. He, in my opinion, was awesome! None-the-less, me with my attitude, I began to be the pesemist in the crowd. I shouted things like, "Aahh, my Grandma could lift more than that," and "Wimpy!!" Well, Dennis being the stand-up guy that he was (and still is, I’m sure), finally reached his threshold, stopped his presentation and began working his way into the crowd back to where I was.

And oh yeah, I think I might have peed myself when I saw that monster coming my direction.

As I prepared myself for the worst, he strolled up to me, put his hands on his hips and just stared down. When I finally came out of my whimp cacoon and had the dangly’s to look up, he spoke in a tremendous tone, one reminiscent of James Earl Jones. "Hey Boy, are you thinking you’re pretty bad a** right now? Do you think you’re bad enough to keep up with me?" I think I might have muttered a very puny and pathetic, "no." To which he responded, "Look here my friend, since you are obviously such an iron-mover (I love this title by the way, and still use it today), why don’t you come down to Gold’s gym on Viscount tomorrow and show me, how I can get some muscles?" Welp, stunned and potentially dazed into a delirium, I unknowingly said in a school girl pitch, "okay."

Done, the date and deed were set! Destiny, had come knocking and I couldn’t have possibly realized it at the time. No, for me, I figure life had just about ended.

I showed up the next day, in my basketball shorts (they were really short back then too, remember those things……what the heck was the fashion industry thinking?), high tube socks and a ripped up white t-shirt. Dennis showed up shortly after me and after slapping me on the back so hard, that I think his hand print still shows up when a neon light is shone on it, said, "Let’s go big man…..I’m all set!" Like a puppy who has just been accidentally kicked by his kids playing soccer in the back yard, I scamper after my days workout partner. This is where I should mention, that up until this point, I had never lifted any weights: I had pretty much just relied on push-ups and pull-ups for the little bit of muscle I was sporting.

Dennis immediately started in with, "I know that you are the professional here, as we found out during my presentation yesterday, but do you think I can dictate the routine and pace?" Having no lifting experience, who was I to protest? Again with zero masculanity, I muttered, "okay."

The following is the actual workout  a former Mr. El Paso completed three times a week back in 1986.

We started off by blasting chest: 4 sets each of decline, flat, and incline presses, followed by four sets of dumbell flyes, then finished off by four sets of upright dips. Next came back: Four sets each of closed toed and Roman deadlifts, four sets of barbell wide grip rows, four sets of close grip pull-downs, four sets of wide grip low pulley rows and finished off with four sets of pull-ups. Done? I think not……next came shoulders: Four sets of military presses, four sets of behind the neck presses, four sets of upright rows.

"Done please, right, Mr. El Paso?" I thought. Uhhmmm hello, gotta work the twenty inch bi’s right…so we kept on.

Now, as you can imagine, my stomach had been turning for the last twelve or so sets, but because of my super-prideful ways, I kept a goin’. We headed off to blast some super-sets of arms:

Four sets of Barbell curls with skull crushers, then four sets of reverse barbell curls with rope tricep push-downs and then we finished them off (literally for me) with four sets of concentration curls and close-grip barbell presses.

"AAAaaaahhhh, lllooookkk ooouuutttt!!!!" I hollered as I ran through Gold’s looking for the first exit I could find. I located one and immediately blasted through it….Unfortunately, it was the front entrance and many people witnessed the horrifying most-extreme barf ever performed by a human being that day. I barfed, and barfed and then barfed some more…..Sadly, once I figured there was nothing else to barf (you guessed it) I began the dry heaves…….Oh baby, I was sexy and hot then, yes?

About ten minutes into my exploding vomit and dry hack experiment, Dennis came strolling out of the gym whistling, "You dropped a bomb on me!" He walked up and without missing a beat asked very innocently, "See you for legs tomorrow big guy?"

I learned two things that day:

1. Don’t think you’re a bad *ss when you’re really just a smelly as*, because chances are, you’ll pay big-time for it somehow.

2. Weightlifting is AWESOME. For while I was sick that day, the subsquent burn I felt over the next five days…..was addicting…..It’s what fuels me even to this day!
 

So tonight, like alot of nights in my life over the past two years, I find myself in a Holiday Inn Express (HIE). Now, typically this means a workout on a Universal machine with an underloaded weight capacity. This however, is not your typical mainstream HIE, as it only contains a treadmill and a broken recumbant bike (potentially because it is located in Smalltown Nevada, potentially because of reasons that the Universe has not figured out, yet). Either way, I say:

"Whosamawhatchasay? No weights!! No real workout equipment!"…..Oh well, Pumpless in Nevada, yes??

"NO," I say aloud with authority and much to the chagrin of the elderly gent who is mightily moving the treadmill along at a rapid and blistering .5 mph.

To the rescue and fortunately right down the street is a Blue and White savior!! A mighty steed of Iron Pumping glory!! A one stop shopping mecca for the iron moving fanatic (Uh hello, yes ME!). I walk in this place, and as a kid does when he witnesses Universal Studios for the first time, my mouth is wide open. I observe the huge letters that boldly proclaim this as, "WORLD’S GYM!" Around the mighty room there is a myriad of highly polished machinery, and a noise that is familiar to the inner-iron-moving-beast that is within me.  A yell a scream, and yes…..a whimper! The euphoria washes over me as I become one with my fellow muscle-pumping brothers and sisters!! I can barely contain myself as I decide a bit selfishly that tonight will be…. "CHEST NIGHT!!"…..Oh yeah Baby, CHEST NIGHT TONIGHT….And as the song unabashedly proclaims….I Let It Rip!!!!

First I pump out four sets on the Standard movement Hammer Press with three plates on both sides……UUuuurrrraaaahhhhhh!! I love the PUMP!! Next, I hit four sets of wide-grip Hammer presses with two and a half plates on either side……I can’t even contain myself. I’m a boy of about fourteen whose just been allowed to run free in the girls locker room!!! I stroll over and blast out four sets a piece on the incline and then decline Hammer machines, both with, you guessed it, three plates on each side.

Now, I must mention that the pain is deep and the burning is intense at this point, but as I have said before, because of the torture, I am now in my happy place. Pain is like candy to me, pain is my long lost brother from another mother….well and so on….you probably get the point. I continue…

Four sets of cable crossovers, Four sets of Flat dumbell flyes, Four sets of decline Smiths and as a finisher, two supersets of Olympic flat bench and vertical dips.

Ooohhh the pain is fantastic, my chest (almost literally) is shredded and on fire. Sweet mother of Whey Protein, life is good.

I return to the HIE and microwave the fresh turkey breast that I stalked, hunted, killed, cleaned and procured earlier today at the local Supermarket. Combined with Spinach greens, carrotts, broccoli, and snap peas, I relish the extremely clean nourishment I am feeding my still swollen muscles!

Because this is a four day audit trip, I will return to the Religious ceremonial place, for brutality….first for the back and then for the shoulders and arms.

Be the Burn!!! 

She was just sixteen….a child in some aspects. She was beautiful, and if you asked the boys around, she had surely been built special order by God. Fully developed and mature in those departments, (you know the ones) she had her pick really. Raised as a good kid from a great home, her parents were protective and not only hoped for the best, thought the best would surely happen. Fully capable in school, she made the Principle’s list every year from third grade through her junior year. Prom queen twice by that year, head of the cheerleading squad and Student body president her freshmen year…..She was a force to be reckoned with. "Going places," they used to say. Until that day: That day she met……him.

A self ordained bad boy, with long stringy hair, toned muscles and crystal green eyes. He was believable and had the magic of persuasion on his side: at least on this day. "Let’s fool around," he tempted her. "We’ll stop just before, I promise," he offered. "Here’s some protection, and with this, we’ll be fine: Don’t worry, have fun, nothing can happen," he said………

"A** Hole: it did happen, now where are you!"

Her world came tumbling down the day she found out. Word spread, people talked, perceptions changed, her parents became the only outlet. The school revoked their support, the previous scholarships offered were recended: and her bad boy?…. Gone! Alone, desperate, scared…..banished by the people who once annointed her. What to do, where to go? "You can’t do it, it’s too hard, end it while you can," said the self-appointed experts.

Strong, proud, hard-willed, determined…she made the decision! Meant to be, she proposed: A gift, a reason! That day……a MOM was formed! 

He was fantastic, beautiful, perfect…..no fault could be found with this splendid, eight-pound miracle! He grew fast, learned fast, he would do the great things she had been denied. Her life would be dedicated to nurturing him, ensuring his safety: He was quite simply……The Reason!

Now twelve years later, parents long since passed away, living on the income of two minimum wage jobs, they struggle as she works long hours. He is alone after school, and the lesser-moraled kids are savvy to the opportunity…..they pounce and invite themselves into the "Reasons" life. They introduce him to the ways of the world, Sex, Alcohol, Drugs. "You need them and yes they will take your cares away," they assured him. Helpless against the majority, he relented and gave in….Heaven in a bottle, heaven with the girls; only the price was now to pay. No money meant no heaven: He began to steal, began to lie, began to cheat. Feelings were hurt, insults and slanderous words were spoken: physical violence broke out and a temendous blow was directed with malice.

"Mama, I’m sorry," he sobbed as he prayed and begged God for another chance. He held her in his arms, the sight of her blood and her soft cries of agony, pushed mighty daggers of pain into his heart. "Mama, please don’t go, please don’t leave me, I didn’t mean those things……I didn’t mean to hurt you!" he screamed to seemingly deaf ears.

Many years later, as his nickname, "The Reason," was called, she broke down and sobbed emotionally strong tears of joy as she watched her baby walk up to the stage to accept the holy grail of football, ‘The Heisman Trophy.’ He thanked many people, many programs, his maker up in heaven, and just when the crowd figured he was finished, tears rolled down his face before he continued with the following:

"Finally, I want to attempt to thank my Mom, who by far, is the greatest person…..Ever! The strongest, smartest, and most giving person ever created by God almighty. You know, I’m not really all that you see here today. I was selfish for the better part of my life: I thought life was about me. If you weren’t here to help me, I really had no need for you. I was bitter, and felt the world owed me. I was so bent on redeaming what was surely mine, I almost pushed the only person who had ever loved me out of this world. I took for granted what my Mom went through……….for me. I couldn’t understand or comprehend that a person would sacrifice their life for another. But, I am here to tell you people tonight, that I owe everything I will ever do, to my Mom. Ya know, it’s funny how I sit here tonight and watch my Mom watching me, there in the wheelchair that I alone am responsible for her being in, and cannot fathom how she can still care for me. But, while I can’t fathom how, I unquestionably know that she does. Never once has my Mom ever blamed me, or shown anything less than extreme love for me."

He had to pause as his emotions strongly and authoritatively pushed the tears consistently down his face. Gathering himself and pointing at his Mom in the crowd, he continued, So tonight Mom, I dedicate this trophy to you! All that I do will be for you Mom! Thank you for loving me, and making me who I am today! I LOVE YOU, Mom!!

MOMS…..WE TAKE THEM FOR GRANTED, AND THEY CONTINUE TO LOVE US!! HAPPY MOM’S DAY! 

We had just spent the last five days out in the middle of Nowhere, Washington, learning how to: construct lean-too’s, set small animal snare’s, identify poisonous vs. non-poisonous plants, eating any bugs we could find,( in addition to the ONE Meal Ready to Eat (MRE) we were sent out with) and hiking a minimum of 10 clicks a day (10km). Survival training in Washington: Good times and a Serious apetite enhancer……natural and organic as well.

Beyond the almost pure torture that I experienced during this excruciatingly grueling five day ordeal, I learned that it is possible (just possible) to survive for a good amount of time without normal sustenance. Now, having said this, food does become something of a desire…an object that becomes your sole obsession. It gets to the point where it is the one….AND ONLY….thing that is talked about: when you wake up, when you’re hiking through the woods, when you’re setting your snare’s, when you’re building a fire, when you’re cutting branches, when you’re setting up a blind, taking down your lean-too, hunting for fire ants and pretty much during most of the day while you’re awake…..and then…..(you guessed it)……when you go to sleep at night, it’s all you dream of! Hooray FOOD!!!!

So, why does the title mention creamer packets? Well, I read alot on this site about how some cannot stand the taste of protein powders…….Let me tell you my friends…..I would probably have (oh I don’t know) taken my clothes off and done cartwheels through a crowded restaraunt or mall, if someone would’ve offered me protein powder on say, day four! Big statement?…..I think not! As a matter of fact, as some of you probably know, some MRE’s come complete with instant coffee, sugar, and creamer packets. And you better believe that those are as good as serious dollars, around day four!

I remember the moment well, my partner had kept his creamer packet on purpose (a friend had advised him to do so before our excellent adventure had begun) and being one awesome person, he broke it out and offered me half the packet……..Let me tell ya, at that moment, there was no debating about how it would affect my figure, or whether or not it was made of whole products, or whether or not it would taste good……It was not even a, "well, okay," or a, "sure, sounds good, buddy." It was a, "HELL YEAH DUDE, C’mon, what the (insert four letter explative here) are you waiting for?????"

Half a creamer packet!!

Folks……that was potentially one of the best things I have ever eaten in my life!! Hooray Creamer packet!

 Today, I ran face into (because of my job) a pretty good sized topper, who took advantage of my feable existence (at least according to him) by displaying a pretty amazing arsenal of, "I’ve done this, that or the other…. bigger, badder, and better than anyone in the history of mankind." And because in my profession (Auditor) I run into these types of people quite frequently, I just listened and nodded my head, as he methodically and one-by-one, trumped any story (mine or anyone else who dared offer up a personal story) with his own, similar, but better story. I have to admit, he was good……but not the best!

 Well now that I think about it, it has been a few months since I met, "The Topper!" No, that’s not the one….I’m talking about, "THE TOPPER!" Yeah, that’s the one. Before I continue, let’s go over (for those who have never met a topper) what a topper is: A topper is an individual, usually small in certain anatomical parts or physical stature, who finds that by conjuring up vividly wild stories, they boost themselves up to a god like status: albeit, in there own mind. Now that we’re clear on what a topper is, surely we can all attest to at least one run-in with this unwanted pest of the human variety. And with that, I now give you the facts regarding the worlds greatest TOPPER!

For whatever reason, after years of working out in my personally assembled home-gym, I decided that I needed to do the gym thing..I might’ve potentially been stagnant, no one may ever know. At any rate, I had been moving the heavy iron at this gym for roughly one month when out of the bowels of the infernoing sauna, emerged a larger-than-life mangod: one who was bigger, badder, stronger, quicker, hotter, faster, richer, and more so-awesome than anyone could ever possibly believe to be assymilated into one human……but it was true…..if you were to ask him, anyway….he would’ve for sure told you! And yep, sadly, I made the mistake of making eye contact…..the rest? Welp, it’s history, and it’s not pretty….here goes (in list fashion) his story that was consistently and relentlessly launched my direction, for the entire duration of my tri / bi / forearm workout:

-A retired (at the age of 30) escalator and elevator business owner (which he sold for millions), he now traveled the country taking on odd jobs, such as laborer for home builders and janitors for various companies, just for fun and to stay busy. (Yep, I’d do that too, if I won the Powerball)

-Currently owned a Fiero GT (remember these cars…two seater with the semi-Ferrari look) that he personally had taken apart and rebuilt, so it would produce 525 horsepower….as the story went, this car was so fast, he had to put an iron fin on the hood of the car, otherwise it would flip straight over, because of the power.

-He had also been a member of the secret elite forward combat controllers that the Air Force dropped into one of Saddam’s palace’s before Baghdad fell to the Americans. And before they were dropped, his superiors had given them some type of new synthetic drug, that was designed to make him only want to kill things….So aggressive and bent on destruction were they, that once the drop-off took place they opened fire on anything that moved….Dogs, Cats, Snakes, Humans, whatever…..he was a single-minded killing machine…..that’s real right?

-His girlfriend, who supposedly was off in Cancun doing a bikini model shoot, was, ’sssoooo Hot Dude," with straight blonde hair, gigantic boobies, two perfectly portioned bunns, washboard abs, tiny feet, a perfectly sloped nose and (of course: she’d be a dog without this), botoxed lips!!!

-Had multiple houses all over the world: none less than four thousand square feet. The crown jewel being his seventeen thousand square foot multi loft four wing mansion just off the coast of Galveston beach.

"Wow, you truly have an amazing life," I said in mock awe. "It’s almost hard to believe!" To which of course he assured me it was true. To which I of course, assured him, that I knew that.

This is were the story’s tide turns……. 

In a rare and of course fleeting moment of brilliance, I somehow came up with the best one-line story that actually made him just pack up and head for the gym’s front door. No idea where it came from; but, I guess I had listened to him long enough, to come up with some of my own fairy tale magic….It went something like this, and I straight lacedly delivered it, when he, for some strange reason, asked me what I did for a living:

I looked around slowly, then spoke softly in almost a whisper, "Aahh, I don’t do anything special and I really don’t like to tell many people this: If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone."….He promised of course, so I looked around again, then continued softly, "I’m actually a contract killer: I kill people for a living, for whoever is willing to pay the price." I looked at him without cracking any semblence of a smile, as he looked at me, wanting me to say I was kidding…..I didn’t, and after a few painful (for him) seconds of staring, he hurriedly turned and bolted.

I only worked out at that gym for probably another two weeks, and strangely, I never saw my friend, THE TOPPER, again.