Tonight at spin, surprise, surprise, I laughed out loud along with Tom, the guy who saves me my bike every Monday and Wednesday night. Sitting in front of Tom was a smallish man who sweats like no one else I have ever seen before in my entire life. You know those little kiddie pools we all had growing up? Well, if a child was left uanttended in one of those, they would drown. If a child was placed in the pool of sweat next to smallish man's bike, they would drown too.
So smallish guy is a semi-regular fixture at spin. Here are some other things I know about him, aside from his overactive sweat glands:
* He has recently grown a little moustache that suits his Napoleonic stature.
* He frequently invites the spin instructors to ride with his cycling group in the warm weather.
* He wears black spandex.
*He does not gear up the tension on his bike enough, so that when we sprint, he looks like he is literally (lit-chrally for Rachel Zoe fans) fly off the bike.
*He does not wipe up his sweat.
*He wears black sneakers with white socks that are pulled up to the mid shin.
*When we had to stretch our right and left shoulders across our bodies, he did a Ninja style move with his arms.
*When we had to stretch our arms at the end of the class, to the tune of K.C. and the Sunshine Band's "That's the Way I Like It", he did the John Travolta move from 'Saturday Night Fever' with his arms instead.
Overall, he was so entertaining tonight. I cannot wait until smallish-sweaty guy is there again!
Yesterday, I saw a bearded woman. It was stubbly. I felt sad for her. She is the reason for electrolysis.
A man in a trench coat with a very serious expression hovered over Robyn today in the aisle of the train. He just stood there, staring. It was creepy. Robyn moved her things and offered up the seat despite the fact that this dude was a creepy guy in a trench coat, but he sat behind us instead. We think he was picked last for teams in elementary school and possibly sits in the back of movie theatres, alone, in the trench coat. Or perhaps he is just shy.
A man in a Natioanl Guard ensemble was SCREAMING in Penn Station about a woman who wanted a dollar to buy crack-cocaine. This woman was following him and told him to "suck an ass." I felt so proud to be an American at that moment....
And finally, Gus the cat clearly enjoys a good cleaning of his lipstick right after I wake up. It does not matter what time it is, he puts on a show just for me. He is like Tina Turner's private dancer, only he doesn't get any money. Sometimes I chuck him a little piece of turkey, but just for the hell of it, not for the "show". Ewww.
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