End of an era

The epoch where I room with two women has finally come to a grinding halt. But, I couldn't have asked for it to end a better way. My uncool roommate, who was dating "the situation," (I've chosen to continue calling him 'the situation' mostly because I can't figure out what the fuck is wrong with him, not because you can fly an aircraft off of his abs) finally validated my previously unbelieved claims that they were...doing the gorilla march. Validated those claims for an astounding 80 minutes. Who last 80 minutes? I can't remember a porno I've seen that was longer than 30 and those guys get paid. Clearly this dude is some sort of bedroom Optimus Prime. I'm not even sure who I should call to report this stallion. Maybe I can get a cut of the finders fee. I am still awaiting the resolution of this conflict though. My response was to hurry my move out date. My roommate who owns the house has fewer options. She elected to send an email which hilariously documents her disgust in such a way that you feel like you're reading an office letter, "and so...if you feel certain desires overtake you, do try to be as discrete as possible to prevent disrupting the work of your fellow employees." I can't imagine a situation where I confront them that doesn't end with me high five-ing 'the situation' and then, downtrodden, retreating to my room for some serious soul searching; trying vainly to put together how this most unimpressive of men morphs into captain planet once the night hits.

Women........idk

I'm not sure if I mentioned this yet but the trainer female to guy ratio is about 9/4. It would seem men and women have bonded together in our love of working with attractive, in shape females. Who knew. As a result of this disparity I am forced to spend my refueling stops (or lunches as you may know them) with a table full of these female creatures. Maybe the fact that they bring several leaves of lettuce and a handful of water chestnuts to eat whereas I bring two sandwiches, two apples, and two yogurts is responsible for the much larger amount of time they spend talking than me. Or maybe they believe lunch is actually a time for the purging of internal thoughts to ready themselves for the afternoon. I swear they don't even listen to each other. Everyone is talking about themselves while nodding in affirmation at some inane thing another girl just said.

Anyway, I usually check out about this time and until today I thought I was just accepting the fact that I couldn't handle that much communication during the sacred process of food consumption. I was off in my thoughts, well into my second sandwich, when through the fog of the conversation the word "boobs" floats to the fringes of my consciousness. Instinctively, my head raises. The three chatting women notice my enhanced mental state and stop talking, evidently assuming I am ready to contribute. I can safely assume, even without knowing the background of the convo, that I have nothing useful to add. Yet, still they are looking at me expectantly.

"I came in late. What were you talking about?" I said.

Laughter ensued and one of them commented to the other, "He is such a guy. Not paying attention."

I picked up my lunch and left to ponder what just happened. Initially, I was annoyed. Then I got even more annoyed that I was annoyed in the first place. Finally, upon further ruminating I realized two important things had occurred 1. I just stumbled upon an evidently widely accepted practice of men ignoring the conversation of women simply because they are dudes. At last, a stereotype that works in my favor. 2. They latched onto my ignoring of the conversation instead of my perking up at the utterance of the word "boobs." For the longest time I thought the stereotype of guys thinking about sex reigned above all others. At long last we as a male species are breaking down the shackles of stereotypes.

In order to celebrate my discovery I promptly queued "Disturbed", drank an energy drink, and went to go lift weights; then went home to eat ground beef and watch sportscenter.

Job escapades 2

I've decided I need to submit picture to one of those extreme makeover shows.

A few days back I saw someone come into the gym to workout that I met about a month ago. As I remember it, we had a jovial conversation, we talked about her recent moves, exercise, whatever. She had a really attractive face, but was at least 35 and had a reason to be at the gym, if you know what I mean. I was in my workout clothes so no work uniform. I see her, and hop on the elliptical next to her to say hi. The conversation went something like this
Me: "hey"
* no response *
Me: *tap arm* "how's it going"
Girl turns to look at me: "oh, hey"
Girl turns back to tv
Me: "glad to see you back at the gym, it's been awhile"
* no response*
Me: "do you remember who I am?"
* again, no response and I now detect that she is not actually watching tv, she is staring straight ahead with the intensity of a women who just noticed a Macy's 50% off sign*

Needless to say this threw me. What could possibly be going through her mind at this point. Does she think i'm a T-rex? I can see her. Does she truly believe she is hot enough that I am hitting on her? Again....I can still see her. It's 2:00 PM on a sunday. TV quality is conspicuously absent. I am completely confounded. I actually considered getting my prairie life uniform and approaching her again just to test my theory. Then I realized this was not a winning scenario either way. If she did recognize me then that means i look like some sort of rapist/killer/whatever. If she didn't she would probably call the manager and I'd have to do some bull shit sexual harassment training. Last thing I'll mention...the day this happened was Easter; the day Jesus awoke from his 200 year slumber to battle Mephistopheles with nothing but his horse Warbringer and a 30lb morningstar. It's been awhile since I read the bible but I think my point stands.

So, i'm open to suggestions. Chase, I think you won best dressed in high school. What's the deal here.