Wednesday. March 11th, 2020.
Chest day went totally crazy. Almost managed to hit a 120 lb bench press for straight 5 solid reps. Man, that was awesome. I cleverly slipped in a little more weighted dips, and dumbbell flys, just to add a little more volume to my pecs for tonight. To top things off, I squeezed in some biceps+triceps exercise combos too.
"Gotta impress the lady, gotta impress the lady!"
Funny, the crappy gym music didn't bug me today, kind of odd, but I didn't care. And today, I didn't poke into other people's crippling workouts correcting their angles and form, neither did I throw a shit ton of invaluable chunks of information at the grumpy kids or the cranky old timers, and nor did I motivate anybody by imitating the ruthless Sergeant Hartman.
"BUCK UP PUSSIES. SHOW ME YOUR WARFACE..."
If it was any other day, you'd see me sweaty in a camo tank-top yelling at others and pushing them over their humane limits. I am the cruelest trainer volunteering at the gym who could help you into breaking yourself and to emerge a phoenix. But today, I simply didn't care. I MINDED MY OWN BUSINESS.
This grubby old-timer over there is almost gunna break his back squatting like that. Guess he took yesterday's insult personally. Remember, always wear a waist belt, keep your chest up and back straight while going down in a squat position.
"Woah, woah…..easy there buddy, don't go too hard on yourself. Lose these 45 lb plates and squat parallel to the ground."
"But, but, but. You asked me to GO HEAVY or GO HOME, yesterday. Remember?", the old man reminded me.
The old man wasn't wrong. I did go way too harsh on that poor soul the other day.
"Take a day off pal, you've earned it."
The old man smiled.
I completed my workout and did extra cardio to trick my body into excessive overload thus producing more testosterone for the day.
"Come on bud, push in more testosterone. Gunna be needing that t'night." (muffled excitement)
The sun is almost down, and the evening's creeping in slowly, sun's warmth is fading into oblivion until another day. Funny, I didn't notice that before, or maybe I was just too busy pushing my life everyday.
"Gotta get dressed up, it's almost time.", my brain gently orders me.
30 mins later, I'm on the road driving fast with the music out loud. This time around, it was metal blasting on the speakers inside the cabin. My energy shot through the roof when "Rock You Like a Hurricane - Scorpions" came on. What a wonder!
"Yayy yayy. Here I am, rock you like a hurricane.
.
.
The night is calling, I have to go,
The wolf is hungry, he runs the show,
He's licking his lips, he's ready to win,
On the hunt tonight for love at first sting…"
I sing these lyrics at the top of my lungs feeling the german guitars blasting and my foot squeezing the gas as deep as it can go. I push the engine to aspirate deeply and it roars violently to the metal, the car accelerates and speeds over 100 mph. ADRENALINE SHOTS! I love it when my brain triggers to pump adrenaline all around my body, I'm a sucker for it.
Some sight it is. A fiery red 5.7L '71 Pontiac Firebird V8 custom built to run 475 horses of power overtaking you wildly on the road with metal guitars going on loud. With a beefy ride like this, drivers don't even think about messing around with you. I remember the time when I bought her off from a man who kept her locked in a barn for 15 long ass years. Took around a month of hard work and nights to get her back in her full glory. Maybe that's why she understands me when I'm feeling the music. She's a babe.
I reached the hotel all juiced up with adrenaline. Drove around the hotel into the lot and parked besides some cunt's Toyota Prius.
"Hybrid, huh? That's an acronym for faggot. Great gas mileage, hmpf? Kiss my ass."
Walking into the hotel entrance, I saw a reception straight up ahead of me and walked up to it in macho.
"Evening. Where's room 4224 supposed ta be, hun?"
"Fourth floor, to the north wing of the hotel by the elevator."
The receptionist chick answered, chewing on her bubblegum looking down on her computer. I stood there for a second hoping she'd look up, and then made a walk to the elevator some 10 feets right of me.
Pressed on the button that said fourth in numerals and turned around to see myself in the mirrors. I'm wearing a rugged tanned cafe racer real leather jacket over a white tee on top of an American imperial denim jeans. I pull out a bottle of expensive cologne and squirt short bursts of fragrance onto my fingers and rub it onto my neck one time.
*Ting* (mechanical voice whizzed fourth floor)
Took some minutes to find the room. I looked at my watch for the time and it told me I'm almost 20 minutes late. I had a tall thorny rose riding in the breast pocket of my jacket.
*Knock Knock*
*Door clicks*
"You're expecting me."
A sweet sultry voice came from behind the door.
"You're late big boy."
"I think… I am."
"Come in"
*Door swings open*
She turned immediately and walked up to the bathroom in a big white robe with rollers on her hair as I walk inside.
"Make yourself at home", she asked me in a sweet voice.
"Sure do."
My nose picked up a funny smell of gunpowder and another of something like rotten eggs. I could tell that it was surely gunpowder because my pops had trained me well at a shooting range back when I was 16. I was good at automatic and semis, but over the years, I've gotten rusty.
SWEET BABY JESUS.
"It really is gunpowder. But, how, what why…?!?!"