[rant]The most annoying ad jingle in the world...

Sac Arrow

Touchdown! Greaser!
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Snorting his way across the USA
Okay. You've driven for three days straight. Over land. Down dusty trails that haven't been traveled since the gold rush days - at least, not in both directions anyway. You're at least a hundred miles from the nearest populated town. Maybe a few less from the nearest highway. Water? Fuggitabout it. Food? That's what you're being viewed as. Cell service? (bring a Satcom?)

Mmm hmm. But the view is breathtaking. You pop open that last cold Dos Equis, raise a salute to the vast wilderness, and chug it. You look at your watch. It's time to head back for home. If you were diligent in marking your trail, you will find your way back out and reach the highway by sunset. So you fire up the trusty big block Ford V8 of your Bronco, put the transmission in drive, and then....

Ennccchhh

Ennnccchh

Ennnccchh

Ohhhhhhhh sheeot. Not good, not good. The most horrid, grating sound you could ever imagine. And the bigger problem is... you aren't going anywhere.

Make it end! Make it end! Anything! I promise I will be a better person! Make it stop! You cast aside your agnostic reservations and quote Budda, Allah, Jehova, Zeus, Balthazar, Pisces, Libra, Sagittarius, the Pope or whoever might be listening in a frantic assemblage of passive verbiage that could only be interpreted as speaking in tongues by the lucid.

Then it finally stops.

Well...


For those unfamiliar, a major large fitness chain that boasts round the clock access has recently adopted a new, standard music feed in all of its facilities. Now, the music feed they USED to have boasted lots of techno/club/dance mix cardio ready choices, which were generally quite compatible with high energy exertion. You kind of felt like you were in the club with the ladies, well, and you kind of are but instead of buying them drinks in a feeble attempt to lure them back to your batch pad or your hotel room or minivan stripped of the booster seats, you talk to them and pretend to be their workout buddy in an equally feeble attempt to achieve the same ends.

Now.... now it is different. Now the music feed occupies a TV. Not just one TV, it occupies approximately every third TV on the exercise floor. And they are special TV's. You can't change the channel. They are hard wired in to the corporate music feed, complete with ads.

The ads. Okay, reference the clip above. There is this one ad that they play constantly, every ten minutes on the dot. The Music Run. And the jingle... well, honestly, I'd almost rather be stranded in the desert under imminent demise by starving mountain lion and coyote (I don't know that they have mountain lion in the desert but there certainly are no bears and mountain lions sound menacing) than listening to these god-awful grating, mashing sounds that lead in to semi-intelligible lyrics that make absolutely no rational sense. It's like someone placed a three year old hyped up on donuts and some of mom's mocha in front of the synth keyboard and let him go at it.

The first time I ever heard it I thought the CD player was broke. And then, it happened again. Obviously they didn't fix the CD player. The third time it became apparent that a spastic, malfunctioning CD player was not to blame. My god, someone got PAID to produce that abomination?

And by the way twenty f... er, rather, unnamed national fitness chain, ALL you play is either modern top 40, or, moldy, slow, '60's and '70's music that even grandma is tired of listening to. People be trying to work out here yo.
 
The biggest joke/annoyance to me are people who pay to sweat.

Is it the chicks? the commoradory? Honestly, why do people pay money and then drive and take time to go 'work out'? Working out where I grew up on the farm meant get your ass outside and go to work.

There is this thing called a floor in every home where you can do push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, or a myriad of exercises. If you must lift weights, go in the hay baling business and make money while you enlarge your pecs. Or grab two five gallon buckets full of water and run around the block ten times lifting them over your head. That'll do it. :dunno:
 
The biggest joke/annoyance to me are people who pay to sweat.

Is it the chicks? the commoradory? Honestly, why do people pay money and then drive and take time to go 'work out'? Working out where I grew up on the farm meant get your ass outside and go to work.

There is this thing called a floor in every home where you can do push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, or a myriad of exercises. If you must lift weights, go in the hay baling business and make money while you enlarge your pecs. Or grab two five gallon buckets full of water and run around the block ten times lifting them over your head. That'll do it. :dunno:

First world problem for sure, but not all of us have a physical lifestyle/job to keep us in shape. I mean, yeah, I could not go to the gym, but I would then get fat again, so...

It's worth it to me. It may not be to you. That's fine. consider it like stamp collecting. Stupid hobby to many but the end in itself to those few that do it.
 
Commodory. It's the act of building community in a public restroom. You know, s**thouse conversations.
 
It must be the chicks because there's no way I'm paying some guy to come work out in his house.

Get a bowflex or invest the money in your own equipment.

Now if $49.95 a month will get me laid, that's a fair transaction. :lol:
 
It must be the chicks because there's no way I'm paying some guy to come work out in his house.

Get a bowflex or invest the money in your own equipment.

Now if $49.95 a month will get me laid, that's a fair transaction. :lol:

Hah! Nah, my experience with home equipment is that it ends up in closet. I will admit, it is probably 60% fitness and 40% social (interpret that how you want) but I'm only paying $12 per month.
 
Hah! Nah, my experience with home equipment is that it ends up in closet. I will admit, it is probably 60% fitness and 40% social (interpret that how you want) but I'm only paying $12 per month.


That's cheap.

The only time I went with a buddy to a gym the women <the hot one's> were practically shoving their sweaty junk up and in your face. They knew perfectly well what they were doing. It was driving us crazy.

But if you tried to strike up a conversation they acted all superior/defensive like "don't hit on me in the gym!"
 
Arghhh. I listened to that on the Kenwood in the Lesbaru via Bluetooth from my iPhone. I can feel the gay oozing from the entire scene if anyone had seen that. Thank god it's cold out and the windows are up.
 
That's cheap.

The only time I went with a buddy to a gym the women <the hot one's> were practically shoving their sweaty junk up and in your face. They knew perfectly well what they were doing. It was driving us crazy.

But if you tried to strike up a conversation they acted all superior/defensive like "don't hit on me in the gym!"

It's all part of the game. Sort of like credible deniability. Just like any venue of it's kind, it doesn't work the first time, or if you try to force it. It's all about persistence and determination. Any writer will tell you that you get a hundred rejects for every successful submission. Same thing here. And if you go to the gym seven days a week, 365 days a year, do the math. Better and cheaper than the bar.

That said, honestly, I go there to stay in shape. Anything else that may happen along the way, if it does, and I wouldn't say it did if it did, is gravy.

Arghhh. I listened to that on the Kenwood in the Lesbaru via Bluetooth from my iPhone. I can feel the gay oozing from the entire scene if anyone had seen that. Thank god it's cold out and the windows are up.

I like to share in my misery. Yes, that was a complete gay ooze situation.
 
Commodory. It's the act of building community in a public restroom. You know, s**thouse conversations.

Ahh, like bullsheeting...making conversation prior to asking if your stall neighbor can spare a square...

I believe you have the makings of a new thread here.
 
It's all part of the game. Sort of like credible deniability. Just like any venue of it's kind, it doesn't work the first time, or if you try to force it. It's all about persistence and determination. Any writer will tell you that you get a hundred rejects for every successful submission. Same thing here. And if you go to the gym seven days a week, 365 days a year, do the math. Better and cheaper than the bar.



That said, honestly, I go there to stay in shape. Anything else that may happen along the way, if it does, and I wouldn't say it did if it did, is gravy.







I like to share in my misery. Yes, that was a complete gay ooze situation.



Why do we have to suffer? LOL

DAvid



Because misery loves company.


It could have been worse. It could have been Kenny G.
 
The biggest joke/annoyance to me are people who pay to sweat.

Is it the chicks? the commoradory? Honestly, why do people pay money and then drive and take time to go 'work out'? Working out where I grew up on the farm meant get your ass outside and go to work.

There is this thing called a floor in every home where you can do push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, or a myriad of exercises. If you must lift weights, go in the hay baling business and make money while you enlarge your pecs. Or grab two five gallon buckets full of water and run around the block ten times lifting them over your head. That'll do it. :dunno:
The problem is, one can get seriously messed up with a bad exercise regimen. Yours would probably be OK with someone who is already in some sort of shape, but it's got some real pitfalls for those who decide it's time to forgo the blobbishness and get some tone back.

I'm probably a good example. Since my last gym class in college ~40 years ago, I have not had any sort of exercise routine. Yes, I tried running for a bit when I first got out of the service (30 years ago) but didn't keep up with it.

About 20 years ago I joined a gym. It had a bunch of exercise machines and little advice. I'd pick a weight and run it up and down ten times or so, then look to see what other machines were open and switch to them. No rhyme, no reason, no plan, no idea what I was doing.

One day my right knee did something funny. Didn't hurt, just felt weird. I mentioned it to one of the trainers, and he just shrugged.

Eventually, of course, the club use petered out. The knee remembered, though. Never really got bad, but always was a bit sore, a bit weak.

About three years ago, I was trotting across the street and KABLAMMO. The knee just about threw me to the ground; I couldn't put any weight on it.

The docs waved their hands at it, sent me to physical therapy, and soon I was walking near-normally. Except for one thing: The knee practically killed me, when sitting in my airplane.

Fifteen minutes was torture, and a full hour would have me nearly screaming. I'd fly to a fly-in, crawl out of the cockpit, hobble around for ten minutes and the pain would go away. But the rest of the show was shadowed by the thought of having to sit in that cockpit for another hour.

I even remodeled my cockpit, trying to get better conditions. I modified the seat to give me another inch or so of legroom. Nothing helped. Physical therapy couldn't reproduce the position that caused the pain, thus couldn't come up with a successful therapy program.

Then I started working with a trainer. I didn't join a club. I don't pay dues. I don't work out with classes. He has no machines...just barbells, dumbbells, and kettlebells. The gym is just a converted garage. No locker rooms, just show up in your shorts and T-shirt and drive home sweaty. It's just me and him...and possibly my wife and another friend. The music is his favorite death metal, but he'll happily hook up your phone to the system if you have your own playlist.

To be blunt, the difference between this and my previous experience is that this trainer knows his ****. Something sore? He knows the name of the muscle, what you did to affect it, and where, exactly, the pain is centered (which he usually points out with a very firm thumb...OUCH). He then designs the workout to either baby the sore bits or work them out to clear the problem.

Workouts take us to the edge of our capabilities, but he watches like a hawk...start doing the routine wrong, and he stops you before you can hurt yourself.

My knee problem? Gone. Foam-roll therapy to work the muscle adhesions, weight training to build up the muscles. I can sit in my airplane quite happily for an hour or more. The knee still feels weak...but when one can dead-lift about 100 pounds more than when one started, it's hard to make that claim seriously.

Do I enjoy it? Heck no! I'm usually trying to come up with SOME sort of excuse to miss the sessions. Most of the time they aren't that bad... I have just minor soreness the next day. But it was "Death by Barbell" a week ago. Could barely crawl into the airplane the next day.

Cheap? No. No dues, no fees, just the hourly rate for the sessions. A little cheaper if my wife and I work out together (his small gym has room for three clients at a time).

There are a lot of folks who taught themselves to fly. Similarly, one can successfully develop one's own exercise routines using commercial machines or ad-hoc training devices. But a lot of people benefit from professional instruction and structured learning.

Ron Wanttaja
 
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That must be what those sonic mouse deterrent things sound like to mice. Genius it will drive the new years resos out faster. Plug into your phone and crank what you like, the fatty swarm is just a month away.:lol:
 
The problem is, one can get seriously messed up with a bad exercise regimen. Yours would probably be OK with someone who is already in some sort of shape, but it's got some real pitfalls for those who decide it's time to forgo the blobbishness and get some tone back.

I'm probably a good example. Since my last gym class in college ~40 years ago, I have not had any sort of exercise routine. Yes, I tried running for a bit when I first got out of the service (30 years ago) but didn't keep up with it.

About 20 years ago I joined a gym. It had a bunch of exercise machines and little advice. I'd pick a weight and run it up and down ten times or so, then look to see what other machines were open and switch to them. No rhyme, no reason, no plan, no idea what I was doing.

One day my right knee did something funny. Didn't hurt, just felt weird. I mentioned it to one of the trainers, and he just shrugged.

Eventually, of course, the club use petered out. The knee remembered, though. Never really got bad, but always was a bit sore, a bit weak.

About three years ago, I was trotting across the street and KABLAMMO. The knee just about threw me to the ground; I couldn't put any weight on it.

The docs waved their hands at it, sent me to physical therapy, and soon I was walking near-normally. Except for one thing: The knee practically killed me, when sitting in my airplane.

Fifteen minutes was torture, and a full hour would have me nearly screaming. I'd fly to a fly-in, crawl out of the cockpit, hobble around for ten minutes and the pain would go away. But the rest of the show was shadowed by the thought of having to sit in that cockpit for another hour.

I even remodeled my cockpit, trying to get better conditions. I modified the seat to give me another inch or so of legroom. Nothing helped. Physical therapy couldn't reproduce the position that caused the pain, thus couldn't come up with a successful therapy program.

Then I started working with a trainer. I didn't join a club. I don't pay dues. I don't work out with classes. He has no machines...just barbells, dumbbells, and kettlebells. The gym is just a converted garage. No locker rooms, just show up in your shorts and T-shirt and drive home sweaty. It's just me and him...and possibly my wife and another friend. The music is his favorite death metal, but he'll happily hook up your phone to the system if you have your own playlist.

To be blunt, the difference between this and my previous experience is that this trainer knows his ****. Something sore? He knows the name of the muscle, what you did to affect it, and where, exactly, the pain is centered (which he usually points out with a very firm thumb...OUCH). He then designs the workout to either baby the sore bits or work them out to clear the problem.

Workouts take us to the edge of our capabilities, but he watches like a hawk...start doing the routine wrong, and he stops you before you can hurt yourself.

My knee problem? Gone. Foam-roll therapy to work the muscle adhesions, weight training to build up the muscles. I can sit in my airplane quite happily for an hour or more. The knee still feels weak...but when one can dead-lift about 100 pounds more than when one started, it's hard to make that claim seriously.

Do I enjoy it? Heck no! I'm usually trying to come up with SOME sort of excuse to miss the sessions. Most of the time they aren't that bad... I have just minor soreness the next day. But it was "Death by Barbell" a week ago. Could barely crawl into the airplane the next day.

Cheap? No. No dues, no fees, just the hourly rate for the sessions. A little cheaper if my wife and I work out together (his small gym has room for three clients at a time).

There are a lot of folks who taught themselves to fly. Similarly, one can successfully develop one's own exercise routines using commercial machines or ad-hoc training devices. But a lot of people benefit from professional instruction and structured learning.

Ron Wanttaja



Sounds like you may have a little pseudo-gout setting up in that knee. You sure as heck don't want that.

I can see paying to sweat if you're in rehab, but many of the pictures I see of people in the gym must be there for sex because they sure don't need to work out.

I get it, you work out, you stay in shape. I guess I've always worked outside harder than most folks and have been skinny as a rail eating whatever I like so I'm blessed in that sense. :redface:
 
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