On Tuesday I go to the gym where I’m doing back and abs and whilst I’m doing back I’m trying this new exercise that Jack showed me back when I wasted £40 on him, and during this exercise I lean against a bench and a do an upright row using a cable in front of me. And because this is a crap description, here’s also a crap drawing I just made for people to understand better.
So then I finish doing this and I move on to do ab crunches on a Swiss ball and as I’m doing that I can see with the corner of my eye some old gay guy watching me and this old gay guy is quite old (60+?) and very gay and he has cheap blonde hair, hairless leathery skin, a tiny vest and even tinier shorts. And of course I don’t acknowledge that he’s watching me, I just continue with what I’m doing.
When I finish, I stand up and I know that he’s going to talk to me, so I avoid walking past him and I take a different way to the water fountain. This is when I feel him pushing the Swiss ball he was also using against my back to get my attention, so I turn around and take my headphones off. I’m listening to Fell In Love With A Girl by The White Stripes. I can’t be sure what the look on my face is, but I’m going for blank, disinterested, but not unwelcoming: I have no reason to be rude.
So he starts talking and his question to me is this: Are you a kayak peddler? I say: A what? He says: A kayak peddler. I say no. He says: I’m asking because this was the most perfect movement I have seen in my life. And I’m a kayak instructor. I say: Oh cool, thanks. There are no follow-up questions, so I think we’re done and I walk away.
Incidentally, I still don't know why a kayak peddler would have spectacular movement in that exercise.
Ten minutes later, in the showers, some other guy walks up to me (mid-30s, black, moustache) and says: You know that exercise you were doing before on the cable? Was that for your back? I say yes. He asks me which part of the back, I show him, I shower.
So basically, in the hit parade of my most talked about exercises, this back one is the new Number 1. I don’t have any others for the Top 10 yet, but it’s a start. Maybe I should bring a bench and a cable cross-over machine with me to do this in job interviews, first dates, anywhere I want to impress somebody anyway.
On Wednesday at 1500, Scott gets a tattoo. And Scott’s tattoo is a big black block of ink on his right forearm, which you can see here:
By Wednesday evening it’s a big slimy bleeding mess of a forearm and even though the initial reaction of friends and acquaintances about that design itself is slightly muted, I’ll stick my neck out and say I like it. It has straight lines…it has corners…it’s solid, what’s not to like? At least it’s not a fucking “tribal” design or a “Maori” design or something written in Chinese writing or in Hindu or with calligraphic fonts or gothic fonts. If had done anything like that (which he wouldn’t), I’d have cut his bloody arm off.