The Problem with Permanent

Last night while I was doing my strength training (that term, when in conjunction with me doing it, is rather oxymoronic) with Pam, I was introduced to the new trainer at the gym.  He specializes in MMA, and I am not going to define what that is to you, because my bloggers are an intelligent sort, and hip to cool new acronyms.  He seems like a friendly person, very handsome as all MMA guys tend to be, but a very weak handshake.  Maybe I am a child of the 70's, but I think a dude should have a string handshake.  Especially a dude who is a fighter!  I am getting this whole mixed message with the fighter with a weak handshake, but this isn't the first fighter that I have met that welcomed me (now I am NOT saying limp wristed) with a wimpy-man shake.

So anyways, this guy...now you know that when I write this to you, this is just between you and me, right?  Sure, it is out there on the interwebs, but I am not naming names, and you are not going to go up to this guy and say "did you see what Jim wrote about you on the interwebs?"  Of course not, since I know who you are.  I will cut you like a Mexican Lesbian.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, he has some tattoos on the front of his calves.  They are Chinese letters, symbols, whatever those things are called.  That HAD to be painful, because the front of the shin is basically skin on bone.  I shiver to think about that, but what the fuck, he is a fighter, a tough man.  With an un-firm handshake.  If I ever got another tat, it would not be on the shin, and it would not be Chinese letters.  With my luck the artist would do it wrong and I would have "Moo Goo Gai Pan" or "Me Love You Long Time" on my leg.  FOREVER.

Something else I noticed...remember, me being snarky and all...that when this kid changed his shirt prior to teaching his class, he left his previous attire in the rest room/locker room/shower area.  OK, it is a pottie with a shower.  But he just left it on the floor.  A little pile, right there on the dirty floor.  Didn't see his mommy there running around picking up after him, though.  Maybe she comes in later.  Isn't that a little odd?  I mean, everyone else brings a gym bag (thus the name) and keeps all of their stuff in there.

You may think that I am a little harsh on this young man.  No...no, I say to that unfair and "you forgot about snarky" assessment.  This dude could drop me in a heartbeat with his kicks, I have seen them.  Not a kickball kick, but a wind up, pivot power shot to the back of my (fragile) knees and I am hospital bound kind of kick. 

I have always found that it is very easy to be snarky at those who possess something that you don't have, or that you will never have.  For me, that would be athletic prowess and cute blond looks.  So in theory, I fucking hate this guy, but theory has been wrong many times, so I am sure he will be my new GBFF in quick order. 

But remember, you never read this.