Giving Someone Whiplash

Yesterday I had an indoor soccer game. It’s actually called Futsal- basically a combination of Soccer and Basketball both of which I, at one point in my life, was a badass at. Grammar check there? Alyssa? Anyway- it’s coed. 4v4 and it’s in a tiny little gym that is 20 degrees too hot for anyone to function in without dripping sweat like a fat man at the County Fair.

I use this weekly opportunity to take out a lot of my pent up aggression. There are so many things I get angry about in my daily life- the fact that my shower is consistently cold after 1:00 pm, the weird colored zit on my left shoulder that I can’t figure out how to get rid of because I can’t reach it, and the perpetual feeling that I’m a stereotypical LA failing writer/standup comedian/woodworker.

I get fired up. I was born last in my family, after two men were first raised in my mother’s quaint and fertile womb. Marinating in their testosterone, AKA the ZEUS of hormones according to my book on the Male Brain.  The science people say I was exposed to this excess of testosterone while my fetus formed into my creepily delicate alien shape. I was destined to be more of a tomboy than other women. I was born to be a haughty, vulgar, aggressive bitch. And I absolutely love that about myself.

Yesterday, I was particularly fired up because of some FINANCIAL CRISIS SHIT that I love dealing with. In the Futsal game, I decided to take out my rage specifically on this balding man who was a foot shorter than me and highly aggressive. He kept beating me to the ball and making me look like a lanky idiot with my arms flailing about. He kept running into my stomach like a little charging bull. Like the little guy from Hercules with the hooves, the guy who is voiced by Danny Devito. I gotta imagine that as a (presumably straight? He seemed straight) man the last thing you want to be doing with a woman is charging into her stomach like an angry bull.

I bodied up on him a little too hard at the end of the game going after a 50/50 ball that was headed for the wall, when we were tied 8 to 8. He got major whiplash and smacked his head on this metal lunchroom door thing (It’s funny to me that we played soccer in a lunchroom.) I felt guilty, I really did, I didn’t mean to push him that hard. He was totally fine- just annoyed that I’d shoved him and he looked like a little bitch (they called the foul, don’t worry.) I was a little shocked that he was so rattled. I’m hardly intimidating, I drive a Buick LaCrosse and wear Mom Jeans to work.

After the game, one of my male teammates gave me props for pushing up on the dudes. And I realized it wasn’t in my head. I was actually pushing grown ass men around (the other men on the team were normal sized, even huge, as opposed to my tiny victim.)

I thought about it. I started lifting weights in the fall of 2014 after I’d struggled continuously with my diet. I started lifting so that I could eat a lot and still look toned (always valid reasoning.) I started with just the bar on every single lift. I couldn’t even do the bar for several of them. I had muscle but it wasn’t substantial at all- just slight toning from prancing on the elliptical and sad leftover meat from high school sports. Kinda like Spongebob when he puts on those fake muscle arms and tries to lift the barbell. All looks- no power.

So just for reference- I started at 45 pounds for everything, that’s how much the bar weighs. Now I’m lifting 60 pounds over my head repeatedly, rowing 75 pounds, benching 95 pounds, squatting nearly 200 pounds, and deadlifting 220 pounds.

I’m sure if any of my former athletic coaches knew this now they’d hate me, because I didn’t give a fuck in the weight room (I spent as much time as possible just sitting on the leg press chair and sleeping) when I was younger and had a bright future ahead. But now I can do cool strong-person shit like easily throw the ball past midfield in soccer, do a soccer throw-in that looks more like a corner kick, make grown ass men scared of my grip when I shake their hand, hit a softball weirdly far even though I never played softball, free climb extremely difficult mountains on my first try (and thanks to Danica, Alex and Becky you crazy sons of bitches), and emasculate guys who are the same height as me.

Sometimes I feel self conscious because my triceps looks weird as hell, like Scyther the Pokemon.

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Or like a weird turtle person hybrid… Idk they look like flippers but they’re helpful? Sometimes I feel self conscious because I’m a bit bulky and feel like no straight man will ever be able to love someone so brutish who also has foot fungus/troll feet.

But overwhelmingly, I feel like a badass. I feel strong, I feel motivated, and I feel confident (most of the time).

The point of this post isn’t to rub my own dick (well that’s not the ONLY point, it is VERY erect though.) I am hoping that someone else reading this might get motivated to find a workout routine that makes them feel like a badass. I know several of my lady friends who started lifting are loving the way it makes them feel. I’m happy to help you find a routine that works for you if you’re interested. Not kidding- message me and either I’ll try to help you or I’ll ask my ripped-ass brother and he will weigh in.

I’m actually going to change my previous opinion on a something. This is an opinion  I’ve held for awhile and been very vocal about. Hypocrisy is something I don’t like to own up to, so enjoy…

Spin class is okay. CrossFit, is okay. Yoga, is okay. Running 18 miles in one day, is okay. All that shit is great if it works for you. TRY ALL OF IT. You find what works for you, commit to it, and I guarantee you will earn at least 4 happiness points for your Sim character over time. Who doesn’t want to see their little Sim self leap around with joy? The alternative is that horrible thing where the Sim needs to pee and looks up at you in agony while they wet themselves… Because you locked them in a room and removed the doors to see what would happen.

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The People of The Grad Gym

First blog post on the new site! This is exciting for me, I now own the domain for The Chips I Didnt Eat! Not that I had any competition whatsoever, but still this is something I’ve wanted to do for a while and now that I’m unemployed I might as well make it happen.

I’ve organized the new site so that each day of the week has its own type of post (except Saturday and Sunday because fuck that.) Feel free to explore the new site (it’s mostly empty) and take a look at the different categories. I’m starting this incorrectly because this post technically falls under “Whatever” for Wednesday but I’m writing it on a Thursday. Maybe I’ll write two posts today? I don’t know.

Anyway, you know those people you continually run into at the gym because you always go at the same time? Well since I go at a disgusting hour (6:00 am) there are some odd characters who I constantly run into. At first I just took note of their presence, but then I started coming up with names and backstories for all of them until it blew up into a full on obsession. Just kidding. Not really. Meet my fellow gymgoers:

Rico: Rico is not the strongest guy at the gym by anyone’s standards, not even his own. He’s a Dental Student who’s a little bit older than his peers but he’s totally fine with it, it took him longer than everyone else to figure out what he wants in life. He stands 5 feet 8 inches and still carries a slight beer belly, but that’s nothing compared to what he used to be. Rico slimmed down from 300 pounds to his current weight of 197. He’s modest about it, but it changed his life.

What do I think about Rico? He doesn’t bother me too much. He is harmless, polite and focused. He recently decided to start offering himself out to other gymgoers to be their personal trainer. He targets the people who can’t tell that he is not qualified at all, specifically the elderly. We saw him today training a 75-year-old women on the bench press. I think the decrepit man lurking around with grey pee-stained sweatpants was his next client. Rico, I respect your hustle but I don’t think you should continue to rope innocent senile folk into your mediocre training sessions.

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(potential Rico client after a session.)

Headband Guy: Headband guy is the type of dude I would have hooked up with in college: tallish white guy, cocky douche bag, mediocre face, defines himself by his ripped body which is the only thing he is capable of loving in this life. He’s always at the gym before we get there (he must wake up at 5:00 am sharp) and is usually still there when we leave. He likes to wear headbands with his short blond hair (completely pointless) and blast songs like “Headstrong” and “Down With the Sickness” which always makes me wonder if he ever left the early 2000s.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Headband Guy glance away from his own reflection in the mirror. Dude comes to the gym for one thing and one thing only: gains. I bet he slays mad poon on the weekends and probably used to belong to a highly coveted fraternity before he became a grad student. He misses those glory days, but he’s studying to become a Botanist now and that’s what his father always wanted from him.

Theon Greyjoy: Ugh, Theon is my least favorite person I have ever encountered at any gym in my entire life. First of all he’s 5 feet 5 inches tall and absolutely hates the world for it. He is balding prematurely (sucks to suck) and looks like a rattier version of Theon Greyjoy from Game of Thrones (AKA Reek.) He likes to wear shaper shoes, various winter hats, and JC penny clothing. Whenever he arrives at the gym, he’s pissed off. He throws his enormous camping backpack into a locker and doesn’t lock it (even though the lockers are free and super easy to lock) or even bother to shut the door.

Theon is never quiet about his workout. He warms up with tons of Jumping Jacks in the middle of the floor in the place where most traffic occurs. In fact, he might be the Jumping Jack champion of the West based on how many he does and how little competition there is for that title. When he gets the squat rack, he will NEVER leave the squat rack. It is his. He owns it. He does not know how to re-rack his weights properly, he just puts them wherever he wants willy nilly because he don’t care bout no one but himself. He loves to steal weights from whatever machine you’re using without asking you if you need them, he’d probably remove them straight from your bar if he could.

If you’re on the squat rack when he wants it, boy, you’re in for a nightmare. He will ask you with palpable rage how many sets you have left. If you answer anything other than “None, you may take the rack sir.” Then he will stare at you with fierce and otherworldly hatred until you conclude. One time he forced me to let him do pull-ups between my sets. Which was fine, except I hate him and he screamed the request at me.

Theon, you are no fun. It’s not my fault that you’re short and angry about it. It’s not my fault that I’m a head taller than you and have to work less hard to build muscle even though I’m a woman. It’s not my fault that you’re mad at the world and everything it has brought upon you (the balding.) Lighten the fuck up.

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Alan Thrall: I love Alan Thrall, he is my favorite gym goer. He’s a pleasant dude who always shows up with a Starbucks in his hand, which makes him human. Otherwise I would think he is a prehistoric mega-beast. Dude casually squats like 400 pounds. I honestly couldn’t even tell you how much he squats because I can’t do the math. There are lots of 45 plates on both sides. The bar bends like a pool noodle every time.

He’s about 37 years old, looks like a lumberjack bred in the deep woods of Canada, and I mean that in the best way. He has a dark nordic looking beard, intense brown eyes, and a stocking cap that indicates he is no stranger to cold temperatures. His body is covered in tribal tattoos which I’m usually not a fan of but they work for him because he’s a mega-beast and was probably around during tribal times. He always wears all black, because he’s a boss. His calves look like they’re literally going to explode out from under his skin and he’s going to be some Wolverine style steel/metaly motherfucker.

Why do I call him Alan Thrall? Because Alan Thrall is this awesome YouTuber and Gym Owner who does squat demonstrations, and he’s also a mega-beast. The guy kind of looks like Alan Thrall so here’s a photo for reference.

Alan Thrall

 

Wannabee Justin: This guy just started going to the gym, probably for a New Years resolution. He is a scrawnier, nerdier, more awkward version of our very own Justin Williams. Seriously, the resemblance is uncanny. Even Justin agrees. This guy annoys me for no real reason, I think I just don’t like that he’s new. He always looks downtrodden and defeated, if I had to guess I don’t think he’ll achieve his New Years Resolution of becoming swole as fuck.

I know it’s way harder for tall dudes to put on muscle, on account of the fact they got a lotta body to distribute the muscle onto. This guy is at the point where he probably has a six pack just because he’s so skinny and there is no fat to pad his abdomen. We call that a starve-pack where I’m from. He probably can’t even finish a burrito at Chipotle without being “too full.” Bro, if you wanna succeed you gotta EAT. I guess that’s what annoys me about him, he’s a lanky motherfucker. Get some fat on dat wiry body and stop being a Wannabee Justin!

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Anyway, these are just some of the characters who call the UCLA Grad gym their home. As much as I just shat on them, I enjoy their company for the most part. Hopefully none of them ever see this, and if they do… They’ll know immediately it’s about them. So that’ll make for a fun interaction when I see them every week. WORTH IT.