It was a beautiful Los Angeles Saturday afternoon. I arrived at my trainers' early, changed and was ready to go for my private workout session. At the start of the session, I was ordered into a weight vest, and my trainer got out a bicycle.
“Great!” I thought, I get to go for a nice bike ride on a sunny balmy afternoon. Which is when my trainer said “We’re going for a jog”. By “we”, he meant “me” – he got to ride the bike and I got to run.
After about a half mile we arrived at a local park; it had a large basketball court, bars and rings, green grass, swing set and sand pit. It was also packed to the gills with people.
I found myself being led to the chin up bar, which was about 7ft from the ground and in the middle of the park. A nice view for everyone there, which is probably why the bar was bereft of people. Normally I’d be able to jump up and grab a bar that high with no problem. However, that afternoon I had a problem – I’d just been running for a half mile, and I had a weight vest on. At this point, just jumping an inch in the air would have been a feat to behold.
My trainer wasn’t worried, “I’ll help you get up there, don’t worry. Then it’s a set of 10.” I felt rather like a 3-year old as I jumped and he grabbed my vest bodily hoisting me up to the bar. Then it was up and down, up and down – and I guess most people probably aren’t watching me – but it sure felt like it.
Next I landed on the ground and walked/stumbled and over to the grass for pushups. Where apparently my trainer mistook by back for an ottoman – as he began to sit on me to increase the resistance of the pushups.
This was the point where I collapsed face first on the grass and said “I had no idea that personal training also included public humiliation.”
He reassured me that no one was looking, and even if people were they’d just be thinking how strong I was, and what a great workout I was having.
None of which I believed in the slightest. I know if I was watching this particular scene from the sidelines “strong” and “great” would not be two of the adjectives I’d be using.
Of course he wasn’t done yet, and I had to endure another lifting to the bars for more chin ups prior to having to jog back out of the park past all the people who thought I was so strong and great.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Man About The House
An Asian lady came into Famima!! this morning. She had a hoodie shirt on, grey slacks, big dark sunglasses and a green frog-like purse. Very pretty, with a mysterious air.
She stood eyeing our Steam Bun display, obviously waiting for someone to approach her.
I gave her a cheery “good morning” and asked if she needed any assistance. Which is when, I was treated to the following.
Please keep in mind that she was never able to look me directly in the eyes, she had her hoodie up, with her black bob hair pocking out around her chin, her dark glasses were shading her eyes and she kept her hand up over the top of said dark glasses as though shielding her face from non-existent sunlight. (Perhaps the fluorescents were too strong…)
“The police told me to come here”.
I kid you not – this was the first thing she said to me. The Los Angeles police, told her to come here, to Famima!! There were several things wrong with this sentence, but I let them slide I mean, I’m paid to look after customers – even if they are sent by the LAPD.
“I have my own home, I’ve had it for over 3 years. There’s a Korean Christian man in my home.”
For me, the devil was certainly in the details here. I’m not sure why his being both Christian and Korean was relevant to what she was telling me, but there you go.
“I’ve tried to get him to leave for 2 years, but he won’t go. I can’t use my home because he’s in it.”
I responded with a murmured agreement of how awful that must be for her, not being able to use her home for two years as it’s being occupied by a Korean Christian man.
“So the police told me to come here. I’m in a homeless shelter, and I’d like some food. Do you have any food you can give me? I don’t have any money, and I can’t go back home because of the man. He’s got a knife.”
Now I know I should be feeling the milk of human kindness flowing forth from me at this point – but ALL I can think of is this TittyBangBang character. I want to laugh. I can’t laugh. Which makes me want to laugh more.
I’m winding up my tour of duty at Famima!!, and if this had happened a year ago when I started I’d’ve been getting a meal for her right then and there. Of course, since my beginnings at Famima!! I’ve been (specifically AT Famima!!):
1. Robbed
2. Fleeced out of $70 odd bucks (see earlier blog entries)
3. Threatened in person
4. Lied to
5. Insulted
6. Received obscene, threatening phone calls
So I no longer react to this sort of story as I once would have – for better or for worse. I politely explained that we didn’t have any free food, to which she replied:
“What, none today? Ok.” And left. That's it - just walked out.
During the week we often have free samples – and the key here is that they are FREE SAMPLES. No story needed.
Still, it was interesting. I mean, he had a knife.
She stood eyeing our Steam Bun display, obviously waiting for someone to approach her.
I gave her a cheery “good morning” and asked if she needed any assistance. Which is when, I was treated to the following.
Please keep in mind that she was never able to look me directly in the eyes, she had her hoodie up, with her black bob hair pocking out around her chin, her dark glasses were shading her eyes and she kept her hand up over the top of said dark glasses as though shielding her face from non-existent sunlight. (Perhaps the fluorescents were too strong…)
“The police told me to come here”.
I kid you not – this was the first thing she said to me. The Los Angeles police, told her to come here, to Famima!! There were several things wrong with this sentence, but I let them slide I mean, I’m paid to look after customers – even if they are sent by the LAPD.
“I have my own home, I’ve had it for over 3 years. There’s a Korean Christian man in my home.”
For me, the devil was certainly in the details here. I’m not sure why his being both Christian and Korean was relevant to what she was telling me, but there you go.
“I’ve tried to get him to leave for 2 years, but he won’t go. I can’t use my home because he’s in it.”
I responded with a murmured agreement of how awful that must be for her, not being able to use her home for two years as it’s being occupied by a Korean Christian man.
“So the police told me to come here. I’m in a homeless shelter, and I’d like some food. Do you have any food you can give me? I don’t have any money, and I can’t go back home because of the man. He’s got a knife.”
Now I know I should be feeling the milk of human kindness flowing forth from me at this point – but ALL I can think of is this TittyBangBang character. I want to laugh. I can’t laugh. Which makes me want to laugh more.
I’m winding up my tour of duty at Famima!!, and if this had happened a year ago when I started I’d’ve been getting a meal for her right then and there. Of course, since my beginnings at Famima!! I’ve been (specifically AT Famima!!):
1. Robbed
2. Fleeced out of $70 odd bucks (see earlier blog entries)
3. Threatened in person
4. Lied to
5. Insulted
6. Received obscene, threatening phone calls
So I no longer react to this sort of story as I once would have – for better or for worse. I politely explained that we didn’t have any free food, to which she replied:
“What, none today? Ok.” And left. That's it - just walked out.
During the week we often have free samples – and the key here is that they are FREE SAMPLES. No story needed.
Still, it was interesting. I mean, he had a knife.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Spring Training
I hired a trainer; a personal trainer. He admits I’m the strangest client he’s ever had, as I’m very giggly. I just can’t help laughing at myself, as I know I must look ridiculous exercising away.
I keep seeing myself in my mind’s eye, as we’re doing sit-ups on a sit-up board and he’s lobbing a medicine ball at me to tap behind my head before I come back up to throw the ball back at him. This is just not a serious sight.
The nice thing about this particular exercise is that right before we started it, I had to sign my waiver acknowledging the fact that exercising is a dangerous activity, and I waive my right to sue if something goes wrong.
Al I could do was keep picturing myself getting hit in my face (my beautiful face) with the heavy ass ball and knocking out my front teeth. “Now I’ll never be a teen model.”
In any event, it’s good to have someone correct form and really push you towards a fitness goal. No wonder celebrities are so fit. It still strikes me as really funny though.
I keep seeing myself in my mind’s eye, as we’re doing sit-ups on a sit-up board and he’s lobbing a medicine ball at me to tap behind my head before I come back up to throw the ball back at him. This is just not a serious sight.
The nice thing about this particular exercise is that right before we started it, I had to sign my waiver acknowledging the fact that exercising is a dangerous activity, and I waive my right to sue if something goes wrong.
Al I could do was keep picturing myself getting hit in my face (my beautiful face) with the heavy ass ball and knocking out my front teeth. “Now I’ll never be a teen model.”
In any event, it’s good to have someone correct form and really push you towards a fitness goal. No wonder celebrities are so fit. It still strikes me as really funny though.
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