Beware the Perspiration Nazis-1
If any of my SAGE fellows were ever to set foot in a weight room, they would know of whom I speak. I speak of the self righteous, self appointed bacteria hound, who patrols the room in search of somebody who actually might be sweating. He watches, and he stalks, ready to pounce on somebody who might actually be more focused on his deltoids than giving a dumbell some sort of quickie handjob with a rag and disinfectent.
Just this morning, I was focusing my formidable concentration on a form of deltoid curl, using 70 pound dumbells. I couldn't help but notice that somebody seemed to be staring at me from across the gym--not an uncommon occurrence, I might add. I had assumed that this person was yet another admirer of my reknowned fitness work ethic. Unfortunately, I was mistaken.
No, I am afraid my "admirer" was merely a member of that (now) all too familiar sweat police, that low form of persnickety poseur, that paranoid personality unwilling to get in the trenches and work on his body, content instead with a lot in life that exists to prohibit perspiration in the weight rooms throughout this land.
Well, today, he toyed with the wrong body builder. The Perspiration Nazi tangled with a man nearly 5'6" tall, 185 pounds, with no more than 4% body fat. He tried to make a run up the mountain named P.D. "Bo" Steed, and he was sent hurtling to the shards of rock below. Thank goodness Mr. Bo Jangles wasn't there to witness the events unfold, as I am currently far too busy to transport my longtime companion to his Los Angeles veterinarian once again.
More on this tale in the days to come.