Hell's Workout Mix

One of the earpieces on my headphones recently gave out -- meaning that I'm hearing my music out of my left ear, and whatever horrific music the gym is playing in the morning out of the right.

Normally, the dead earpiece in my right ear is enough to block out the offending gym music (which, as I've discussed before, appears to be aimed at roughly the same demographic as your average Assisted Living Center.)  Unfortunately, however, there are a few machines that I use that are stationed directly beneath a speaker -- and that's when the confluence of my own music and the gym dreck becomes unbearable.

For example, this morning I heard the following combinations:

Left ear:  "Over the Hills and Far Away," Led Zeppelin
Right ear: "Please Mr. Please," Olivia Newton John

Left ear:  "Santa Monica," Everclear
Right ear: "Silhouette," Kenny G

Left ear:  "Signed, Sealed, Delivered," Stevie Wonder
Right ear:  "Tell It Like It Is," Aaron Neville

Left ear:  "Funky Ceili," Black 47
Right ear:  "That Piece of Crap Ballad Whose Name I Can't Recall By," Mike Reno and Linda Ronstadt

Speaking of the gym, I recently experienced yet another in a lifetime filled with George Costanza moments...

I've just fetched one of the giant workout balls from its resting place by the window, and am taking it over to do some crunches on it.  In transit, I hear this lovely little older woman asking a big beefy guy who's using a similar ball if she can have his when he's done.

This woman is a regular at the gym.  She's a sweet little woman, and she works out pretty hard considering that she has some sort of condition that makes her walk almost exactly like Tim Conway's little old man character from the Carol Burnett Show. 

Now the guy who she's asking about the ball has headphones on and can't hear her.  So, when she sees me approach, she asks me the same question.  I tell her that of course she can have it, but also that if she wanted one now I'd be happy to go over and get her another one from the wall.

No, she says, she'll be perfectly content with waiting. 

Ok, then.

Meanwhile, big beefy takes off his headphones to talk to someone, and the little lady asks him if she can have his ball when HE'S done.  Of course, he says, and then he makes the same offer that I did -- he'd be happy to go over to the wall and get her one now.

No thanks, she says.

"Are you sure?" asks beefy.

"Well -- ok!  YOU ARE AN ANGEL!"

She then proceeds to shuffle around the gym, telling everyone who'll listen what an angel the beefy guy is.

Dammit, that should've been me.  I want that credit for being an angel.  Seriously.

Comments

[Woy]

How the hell did you survive the first music mash-up?

[Cathy]

I suspect Beefy is not married (or was not wearing his wedding ring) and Sweet Old Shuffling Woman thought there was potential for a match for her. So, it is not personal to you that you were not chosen to be the Angel, as you are married with a wedding ring. Sweet Old Shuffling Woman was working her female magic on Beefy.

[Mark Stroup]

Sorry, Bob, it wasn't your Big Salad that she got.