The NFJP is on the road, so I be reporting from the margins of the first of the fifty states.
I’ve been attempting to locate another spot in America where one can be roaming through agriculture expanse and ten minutes later frolicking on the calm banks of the Atlantic Ocean. I submit nowhere. Whimsical strolls along the beach set aside, my day job summoned me out of the desert for another week of hotel lodging, long days of blood pooling desk work, and subpar exercising. Unlike Delaware 1.0 last month this go around I enlisted the help of a native to locate a real fitness establishment. Ooooh my! There are Roman ruins more modern. These cats furnished their derelict palace with the set rejects from one of the Saw movies. It is widely believed greatness has a perverse tendency of growing up in adverse conditions. I’m surprised that gym doesn’t produce multiple Mr. Olympians each year.A little self-diagnoses and reflection while bicep repping -- on what I imaged to be a preacher’s curl station, I realized I am spoiled when it comes to workout facilities. The Delaware house of torture devices charges $40 George Washington’s per month for the high probability of a tetanus shot, while in our desert oasis I throw down $14.95 a month for premium top shelf equipment, structurally sound load baring walls, and not to mention the groovy soundtrack of electronic dance pop. This is one portion of my life that “keeping it real” and supporting the grungy armpit stains of gyms gets no R-E-S-P-E-C-T from this prima donna. Don’t get me wrong, I can handle subdermal skin rashes with the best of them, but skimping out on cable equipment and good padding is an injury just waiting to happen. But when in Rome via Delaware, strap on the antibiotics drip bag and give it hell Rocky!
This past year I traveled to Central America for 17 days and needed to get immunized for among other things, hepatitis A-C. Working in a gym, even a fairly clean one, this was actually a relief to have these in my daily dealings. Gyms are sesspools of bacteria. They make doctor's office waiting rooms seem like laboratory grade clean rooms. I have some experience with these museums of exercise equipment you speak of. How they keep their health code permits, I'll never understand. In the East, probably just need to grease the right gentleman of Italian decent, who may or may not, also be involved in sanitation or labor unions. For those keeping score at home, I have lived in this desert oasis for 8 weeks, today. Number of workouts with Ole JT...zero! God save the working stiff. I recently had to come out of retirement myself. I forgot how bad it sucks to set an alarm to jar oneself out of sweet slumber at the ungodly hour of 9am. Let's hope this is short lived. One more of these trips and Jarvis will be able to take a second job freelance writing for the Delaware department of tourism (not really a department, just the one dude, currently). Who knew that tuning into the blog weekly (sometimes) could be so educational? Time to shit or get off the pot, Mr. Marlow...workout with the ever embittered task master this week, else I reveal one embarrassing anecdote about the judicially sealed house of pain chronicals per week until we do. The ball is in your court.
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