On Friday I go to work and for this Friday I have chosen to wear: dark G-Star jeans, tucked in orange and white stripy shirt from Topman (sleeves rolled up), blue/white stripy braces from Topman, white Lonsdale trainers. And this is an outfit that looks like this (only in the picture I’m barefoot because I haven’t put on the shoes yet):
So I go to work and I live through it until 1400 when we’ve booked the court to go and play squash. And squash is good fun apart from I haven’t played for three years and I lose miserably, and squash is also very sweaty and hurty and bleedy. And it’s hurty and bleedy, because I may not be a very good player, but I am definitely a spectacular one, a player that doesn’t mind diving, jumping and leaping to get those difficult shots in (even though I still don’t).
Then we shower, then I go to American Apparel to buy a new pair of underwear because I’ve sweated right through the old ones and I can’t wear them anymore, and then I go back to the office.
In the office, I’m in the boardroom with some others doing something or nothing, and then the Managing Director comes in and he looks at me, and says: what kind if a get-up is this? And I say what’s wrong with it? And the Managing Director says that the dress code at work is “smart casual” but he’s not sure how my outfit today fits in with that. And I say oh well, and then the Managing Director walks up to me and pulls my braces and snaps them against my chest.
After 1730 it’s some work night out, which I decide to go along to because I’m very sociable like that and during this work night out we go to some pub, then we go to some restaurant, then I down three glasses of wine and a gin & tonic, and then I go home. You can read more about that work night out at Fuzzy Logic’s blog here.
On Saturday I go to the gym, where we may not have Superman, but we have Pale Personal Trainer (in the changing room no less) and PPT has his top off, and this time he has no chest rash, but he does have some chest hairs. And now we know where the chest rash came from last time.
Then this guy walks in the changing room and this guy is: late 30s, kinda small, definitely destroyed, most likely gay, shaved head (= bald), goatee, more or less the kind of person who spends Friday night to Monday morning at Fire, has ketamine for breakfast and GHB for dinner.
And he says hi to PPT and from what I can gather the guy has used PPT at some point in the past, so they engage in some light banter, as their client/personal trainer relationship dictates.
PPT says how are you, destroyed guy says good thanks, PPT says so how come you’re not in some club this weekend (I presume the guy has mentioned his clubbing habit at some point in their training session – he’s that proud of it), the destroyed guy replies, I’m going clubbing on Sunday morning actually, PPT says in a jokey way, oh ___ what are we going to do with you, so as to exhibit their difference in lifestyle, the destroyed guy replies, oh well, you know, as long as I’m happy, PPT replies, of course, that’s the most important thing, and I’m thinking, yes, happy; as happy as the rest of us who spend week after week in dark dingy clubs, pushing and shoving our way through crowds of sweaty half naked strangers, in a desperate pursuit of quick thrills and easy fixes, drugging it up to give it some meaning.