"I work out"

You know the guy. The guy that works out a lot.

He has a prominently displayed bench where he huffs and puffs daily for a nanosecond. His daily uniform is comprised of  basketball shorts and a shirt with the sleeves strategically cut-off to show off his "guns".

He, of course, has a potbelly and nothing that resembles well-defined biceps.

Check out those pecs! Check out those guns! and that beer belly! Now THAT takes a lot of discipline!

I live next to one.

My neighbor rocks his once-upon-a-time 'jockness' daily. Every morning, he goes outside and talks loudly on his cell phone while he sits on the bench before "pumping iron".

He grunts so loudly I worry he might bust an O ring.

And he grunts some more.

After he is done lifting, he re-emerges 5 minutes later to smoke and drink a 40.

It's big! It's mean! But sure as hell won't make you LEAN!

My middle-aged jock neighbor has a collection of empty 40's displayed on the balcony, sure to be the envy of any college students' post-party recycling spree.

Dear Neighbor, here is a simple work-out program for you: 

• Put a shirt with sleeves on
• Buy a third pair of basketball shorts-mix it up a bit, man
• Turn off the cell phone
• Do some cardio
• Eat better
• Stop smoking
• Work on those abs-Do the neighborhood a favor!
• Bench press for at least ONE minute
• Oh! And skip drinking those 40's. Last time I checked, drinking a 40 ounce of King Cobra doesn't count as "lifting" and is directly connected to creating an impressive beer belly.

Neighbor-My main concern is that one day you might flip-flop your daily 'work-out' regimen: Drink a 40 ounce BEFORE bench pressing? This might become a life and death situation! 

I would, of course, hear your grunts and squeals after the bar drops on your thorax and slowly begins to squeeze the air out of your lungs.

As the considerate neighbor that I am, I would monkey bar my way up to your balcony and rescue you. I KNOW I can lift 10 lbs. off your chest. What truly scares me is lifting you off the bench after you consumed those extra 40 ounces. I am, after all, only 125 lbs.

Fortunate for you, your cell phone is always a pinky finger's distance away, and after much grunting, I know you would call for help. 


Who would you call? 911? 

I bet a 40 ounce of Mickey's that you would call a beer-bellied friend to 'rescue' you.

Your beer bellied friend would, of course, bring a celebratory 40 in honor of saving your life. Which, of course, would merit many a loud phone call to tell your other beer-bellied friends how you almost DIED bench pressing 360 lbs.


Neighbor, I toast to your health as I sip my protein shake.


-Raquel