Quitting the Gym

So, have you ever had to quit a gym? It’s worse than breaking up with your girlfriend. The manager or owner always tries to make you feel terrible about the situation. Like, you come to the gym to see them, not because its conveniently 1 mile from your house and exercising can be somewhat important to your health.

Friday, I had to quit my gym because I’m moving to the other side of town. Honestly, I thought this woman was going to cry. She is always so happy to see me. Every time I come in, she tells me about her day and when I leave she always says, “Alright Vince, see you tomorrow.” Which, I may add, is quite the subliminal message to keep me coming back to the gym. Its almost like because she says that, I keep showing up the next day.

So, I explain that I’m moving to the other side of town and ask whether or not there is another location closer to my area. The manager/owner or whatever she is, immediately starts questioning me about why. I explain to her my reasoning and this is when the fun part happens. This is when they start coming up with completely irrational and inconvenient ways for you to keep coming. Keep in mind, where I moved is about 13 miles from the gym and where I work is about 15 miles. So, first she says, “why don’t you get a mountain bike and ride it here? That will save you gas and you’ll get exercise.” I literally laughed at her and said, “I’m only 1 mile away right now and I still drive here. Once I’m here I ride the bike for a total of 20 minutes, and maybe ride 5 miles?” AND even that’s a lot.

Her next unreasonable explanation was to join the gym on the other side of town, which is 19 miles past my job and house. She warranted that it was okay because, “It’s a beautiful drive.” I ask, “how many times you think it takes me driving it for it not to be beautiful anymore?”

So, finally, she asks that last question where you know she’s all out of reasons, “so, there’s nothing I can do to get you to stay?” I answer her question with a pretty generic response, although, somewhat passionate, “Its not you, its me.” She does not find it as amusing as I thought she might, and just stares at me for a second. Finally she turns away and starts explaining the quitting process to me. I should have told her, “You know what?! The jerk store called and they’re running out of you!” But just like George, I’m always just a little bit too late.

Ultimately, she unshackles me from the gym membership and I feel like a newly single man. I get to go try a bunch of new gyms and not feel bad about hurting my old gym’s feelings. The saddest part about quitting was when I left the owner didn’t say she’d see me tomorrow. My membership doesn’t end until Friday. So, unfortunately, I will see her a few more times. She did remind me Friday, that I could keep my key card, just in case I ever want to come back. And that, ladies and gentleman was about the most pathetic thing that anyone has ever said to me.

There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

So, two weeks ago, I went on vacation to this place called Punta Cana. Punta Cana is an interesting place. Well, actually, I never saw Punta Cana. I stayed at the fuckin’ Hard Rock; which is essentially America plopped right in the middle of this place suffering from poverty. But getting past that, this was the first time I’ve ever been somewhere all-inclusive. So, let’s get something straight here. There seems to be absolutely no rules in this place. Everyone just seems to yell until they get there way. I’m very used to that mentality, but seeing so many people do it, I couldn’t even bear to do that this week. So, I went with a “casually be at least tipsy the whole weekend and let everyone plan everything for me” mindset.

So, this leads me to the actual story, which I was not tipsy for. It was later at night. I was what you would call, “lit up like a Christmas tree.”

While we were there we met this girl at the hotel. She was quite scary. We won’t use her real name so, we’ll just call her… Ashton. Have you ever seen the shining? This girl was one of the twins from the shining. Except she ate her fuckin’ twin sister. So, Ashton was really into one of the guys I was with on vacation. She was constantly looking around for us so that she could hang out with him. So, Ashton was wearing this dress one night. It was a “maxi dress.” If you don’t know what this is, you should google it. If you don’t google what it is, you might be completely lost the rest of the story. Definitely kidding, it really doesn’t fucking matter. It’s a long dress. Anyway, this girl was sitting there in this dress, and naturally I had to be an asshole. What else was I supposed to do? I looked at her and said “you know I would look ten times better in that dress.”

So, obviously I thought we’d never find out who looks better, because obviously, I’ll never have that dress on. Here is where things took a hard turn for the worst. Miss Ashton said, “then put the dress on.”

In my head now, is the battle between Pride and Dignity. If you’ve ever had this battle in your head, then you know that Pride knees Dignity in the balls and Pride comes out on top.

So, I said, “fine give me the dress then.” This girl takes off this dress like it was a sweater and the sun just came out in the middle of July, except she had nothing underneath. Just took her tits out. We were in a bar with at least 5 people that I was with, and, I don’t know, upwards of 50 people that we didn’t know. So, this girl has her tits out and just her thong on sitting at the bar. But, really, who am I to judge? I already had my shirt off and I was standing there in a long dress and my underwear, like Mrs. Fucking Doubtfire. So, here we are, me, obviously bouncing my ass up and down in the stupid dress like an asshole, that I literally wish I could wear everyday; and this psychopath, shining girl is next to me, tits out, in my Charlie Sheen bowling shirt. These are the moments where you look around and you wonder, “When the fuck did we get ice cream?”

Clubbing

So you must know that the clubs in Vegas are really popular. I go to the club every other weekend, more specifically, Sam’s club. I was in Sam’s club on Saturday morning and I walk in, grab a shopping cart from outside, and I start looking at some of the watches they have right when you walk in. I’m standing there for about 3 minutes when this girl walks up to me and taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and say, “hey what’s up?” She looks me and asks, “did you just take my cart?” I laugh cause I thought she was kidding and respond, “uh, no.” She then asks me, “well then where did it go because it was just sitting right here?” Uhh I don’t fucking know, psychopath, even if I did take it, am I all of a sudden going to admit it now. So this time I stop laughing and in a very George Costanza-esque way I respond, “look, I didn’t TAKE your cart.” She continues to berate me and says, “well you’re the only one over here.” So now I’m mad obviously
So sarcastically, I tell her, “there’s like 20 people in this section of the store, I think you should just go get a new cart.” She says, “yeah, I guess I have to,” giving me a dirty look. And then again, feeling Costanza blood burning through my skin, I huff and say, “yeah I guess you do.” The rest of the time I’m in this store, this girl gives me dirty looks every time she sees me like I’m following her around.  This woman actually thought I stole her cart and lied to her face. Why on earth would I do that? Really thinking about it though, who the fuck walks into a Sam’s Club without getting a cart? I really hope the person that did steal psycho’s cart was standing there watching this go down. Honestly, I want to know why she left her cart long enough for someone to take it. If you leave an empty cart around for more than a minute, I’m pretty sure it’s fair game anyway. So think a little bit next time crazy lady. The Sam’s Club is no place to leave your things unattended.

Dry Cleaners

So I went to the dry cleaners the other day to get some of my pants done. Since I’ve moved here I have been starching all my clothes on my own. Outside of the New York City area, dry cleaning is outrageously expensive. Just to make this story clear, I brought my clothes in on a Monday. They didn’t tell me the price or anything obviously. But I dropped off three pairs of pants.

I went to pick them up on Thursday and I went around 7:15. They closed at 7 it said on the door. They were still standing in there folding clothes or whatever nonsense they do at a dry cleaners. I walk in and the girl says, “we’re closed.” I just told her, “I just want to grab some pants.” She responded, “No sorry we’re closed.” I kept my cool and just walked out. I can’t get mad at everyone, especially not a girl who looked like she was barely out of high school. If I’m going to argue, I want it to at least be fair.

So I return to the dry cleaners the next night…at exactly 6:59, just to be a dick. They actually didn’t give me a problem which was surprising to me (and also sort of a let down). I give her my name and she grabs me my pants and she says, “36.50 please.” 36.50! What the fuck are they doing to the pants for that kind of money. You might as well get a new pair of fucking pants. I say “What could possibly cost $36.50.” She said, “Well, we did an amendment” (at least that’s what I heard). I said,” An amendment! An amendment to what? The fucking U.S. Constitution?” She looked at me like I was a moron obviously. No they didn’t take any money off for “mending” not “amending.” Apparently I was a bit confused. Fucking $36.50 though. That’s actually insane. So, I will not be dry cleaning pants ever again. At least not for a few months. No Ragrets.

Lonely Brunch

So, on Sunday I had a pretty good hangover going. I decided to head over to this place for breakfast. I walked in and said I was just one for breakfast. The girl said she could seat me right away but then kind of just walked away. I stood there for about 5 minutes, which is really no big deal. But this place was packed, it was hot, and there were so many kids. So. Many. Kids. So I decided I was going to leave. So, I said to the girl, “Hey, sorry but I think I’m going to leave, thanks anyway though.” She gives me a dirty look and says, “well I was going to seat you right now.” I looked at her odd and said, “well I just kind of changed my mind.” She then tells me that if I leave and come back I won’t have my spot on the list anymore. I laugh at her and just respond, “I don’t understand, I’m not coming back, I don’t want to be on the list.” So, she just dismisses me and says, “well ok.”

Jerk off me, I decide to try the place next door, where I’m the only person in the entire restaurant. I sit down at the bar and no one is there. Not even a bartender so I was about to leave when finally, this guy walks out of the back. This guy with the longest ponytail in the world, smiling at me like he wants to lick my bald fucking head. So, I obviously think to myself, “what a fucking mistake.” Now instead of sitting in the hot room with the screaming children, I get to sit here with smiling ponytail man. I order a Bloody Mary. And the guy hands me a glass with vodka and tomato juice and says the Bloody Mary bar is over there. I’m the only person in the entire restaurant and I now have to get up, walk to the other side of the restaurant and make my own Bloody Mary? I get up and go make the stupid thing and sit back down. I order a salad with chicken. He asks me, “Do you want a sandwich instead?” What kind of questions is that. When I order a coffee, do they ask me if I want tea instead? No, of course not. He was like “well, the sandwich comes with a little salad.” No douchebag. I want exactly what I ordered. I don’t want something completely different and not what I asked for.

It’s incredible the planet we live on. Instead of sitting in the crowded hot place, I got to listen to this bartender’s sob story. He tells me all about how shitty Vegas is after I just told him I’m new here. Tells me how terrible it was growing up here and blah, blah, blah. Listen GUY, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around. Isn’t me, sitting at a bar alone, supposed to be the cue to the bartender that I get to complain, not him? Well I guess not. Anybody still reading this is essentially my internet bartender I guess. I say that as I pour myself a second glass of wine. So, thanks for listening to all my sob stories. Stay tuned fuckers.

Car Problems

So since I’ve made my trek across the country to Vegas, every time I get an oil change they proceed to give me a list of a thousand things wrong with my car. Naturally I ignore them because as long as the oils clean the car is fine, right? Well, apparently not. I finally decided to take my car to Jeep to get some of this shit fixed, the rack and minion, my shaft, serendipity belt, you know, car parts and mechanic language. So last week I drop my car off for two days, and on the second day he tells me he can’t fix everything because he has to order parts. Well ok, I thought at least something was done. They of course fixed all of the shit that wasn’t covered by the warranty and left the other stuff for another time. So I go in to pick up the car and he tells me to bring it back next Wednesday (which was yesterday). So I drop it off yesterday morning and they ask me if I want a rental car. Naturally I have to say no because at age 24 they wanted to charge me $75 a day for a car with manual windows. So fuck that. I’ll just Uber everywhere.
They call me last night and tell me the job will push into today. That’s fine I figured, just one more day without a car. This morning I get a call from the guy telling me they won’t be able to finish it today. I ask him why and he replies, “Well we just started replacing such and such part and it’s stuck so we had to cut it off.” He starts going more in depth but I had to stop him. “You just started taking the part off, what the fuck did you do yesterday?” I questioned. “Well we had to uhm” and again I stopped him and replied, “Sir you told me the car would be ready yesterday, why wasn’t the job started yesterday?” He started getting annoyed and changed the topic to starting to explain what would happen next. Essentially there were two different jobs that needed to be done on my car this week. The one they just started and the one I will explain in a moment. He told me the part would be here tomorrow and promised it would be done. Fine, I let my temper settle and just said thank you call me tomorrow.

Not ten minutes later he calls me back. “Well sir, you’re not gonna be happy with me” he stupidly mumbles through the phone. I said, “What now?” He reports to me that because of the rust on the other part of the car, He needs to order more parts and they wouldn’t come until next week. About to jump down the guys throat, I slow myself down and ask “so what does this mean, can I still pick it up tomorrow?” “Well no we’re gonna need you to bring the car again,” he reports. He then goes into detail about the reasoning which basically was because of rust. He then states to me, “well our head engineer figures your car is probably from the east coast.” I respond, “Oh yeah did he figure that out from the New York registration, the New York inspection, or the New York State trooper sticker in the window?” He then says, “I think he just noticed all the rust.”This guy must be a real fucking genius.

At this point I’m losing my mind so I just tell him I’ll see him at 1 to pick up the car and hang up. We can’t all be idiots but we’re definitely surrounded by them. Stay tuned for an update next week.

The Olive Garden

So I don’t know how many of you (the 4 people who read this) have been blessed with going to the OG, but I was lucky enough to go last week. I guess if you don’t know Italian food it really isn’t that bad. The only reason I mention this is because if you put German food in front of me, I wouldn’t know if it was good or authentic or anything. Either way, I don’t understand why this place was busy when I arrived on a Monday night at 5:30. My boss asked me and Marisa to meet her there around this time so we arrive and I tell the hostess that we’re meeting a party of 5 there. She asked me if they are here yet. I asked her if any tables of 5 that were missing two people sat yet at which point she says, “I’m not too sure, would you like to take a look around?” So just to premise this part, this is no small restaurant. There are two sides of the place and a bar. “I don’t want to look around, no thanks,” I said. She then tells me it would really help her out if I looked around. All I can think is you’re the fucking host, why am I supposed to help YOU out. She laughs it off and I just respond with, “if you haven’t sat anyone waiting for people they are probably not here, we’ll just take a table for 5 and we’ll wait here or you can seat us, whatever works for you.” Some 18 year old kid takes me and Marisa to the table and before we even sit down this kid is telling me what to order. He just continuously keeps saying “order the chicken parm man, its my favorite, Chicken parm man. Get the chicken parm. Do you like chicken parm?” Like dude, I get it. You like the fucking chicken parm. Let me see the menu or at least fucking sit down before I decide what to eat. He finally leaves us alone and then a waitress comes over with a quarter full bottle of red wine and asks if we’d like to taste it. I don’t know if this customary but that just struck me as weird. Do I want to try your used up wine? Not really. Then she asked if other people are joining us. We’re sitting at a giant round table, what the fuck do you think? I tell her they’re right around the corner and they’ll be here in a couple seconds. She responds with saying, “one..two.. they’re not here.” Now I’m not sure if she was trying to be funny here, but she was missing on all cylinders. Finally the rest of our party gets there. We order our food and I shit you not, within 3 minutes, everything is brought out. Interesting concept; either everyone that comes here is so dumb that they think they can actually cook the food that quickly, or people don’t care about ordering microwaved food. SO whatever, the food is tasteless yada yada, we both had soup so it couldn’t be that terrible, but this isn’t a review on Olive Garden. I’m assuming the few people that are reading this probably wouldn’t go there anyway. The kicker to this story is when we walk out. Marisa and I walked out just a little ahead of everyone and the hostess stops me and asks, “what happened?” I ask, “what do you mean?” She says, “did you find them?” DID I FIND THEM?!?! I was in the restaurant for an hour. Where the fuck did you think I went. I actually think that I laughed and responded with, “where did you think I went.” I just laughed at her and ended up walking out. No dramatic ending to this story. But overall, my main understanding of the people who work at Olive Garden is that they definitely should be working at Olive Garden.