vituperation

October 30, 2002

Many thanks and a HUGE apology to reader Kelly, whose donation to the Animal Shelter was inadverdently overlooked by me because I’m a dork.

…continued

“I’M SORRY!” I bellowed, before they could say hello, “THEY WERE BAD!”

KT and CT blinked at me, confused.

I had a moment to realize how I must sound.

“The directions!” I said, “They were bad!”

I launched into a long and boring description (”…barbecue shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp…”) of how I mistook highway 231 and highway 431, and the myriad ways things could have gone terribly wrong because of my horrendous directions. After several minutes (”…boiled shrimp, fried shrimp, shrimp-n-potatoes…”), I realized that our visitors’ eyes were starting to glaze over (”…shrimp salad, pepper shrimp, grilled shrimp..”) and shut up. Turns out they didn’t even realize I’d given them bad directions.

Even when I’m wrong I’m mostly right.

We invited them in and headed straight for the garage, where the big bubba gym awaited us. Once in the garage we split into pairs, guys and gals. CT and I went to the big bubba gym to grunt and point at the things it did and how it was put together, while KT and Robyn stood off to the side making girl talk. I imagine they were discussing how manly CT and I looked.

I showed CT how the leg press attachment fit in the bubba gym’s pulley system, then detached it. I’d removed the big bolts holding it on before CT and KT had arrived, so it was a simple matter to slide the attachment away. CT moved in to help me carry the leg press.

“Oh, I’ve got this,” I said blithely, filled with testosterone-laden machismo, “why don’t you get some of the attachments to carry out?”

I lifted the leg press and found that it weighed slightly less than a car. As I staggered around the garage, pulled to and fro by the equipment in my arms, CT walked over to the stack of gym attachments and began filling his arms. Together we walked out to CT’s big bubba truck (appropriate for a big bubba gym, no?) while Robyn and KT continued to make small talk and not help.

CT said something on the way to the truck, but I don’t know what. I was panting and grunting too loudly. He lowered the tailgate and helped me lift the leg press into the bed of the truck.

“I’m sweating more moving the gym than I did when I lifted weights this morning,” I wheezed, swiping at my brow with my hand. CT laughed.

CT and I went back into the garage to get the gym. Robyn and KT began carrying out the weight plates for the gym as CT and I hobble-carried (I hobbled under the immense weight of the gym; he carried it as though it were made of paper) it out to the trailer attached to the back of the truck. Our short journey was without incident except for when we bumped the top of the gym on the garage door, causing CT to walk into it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise.

Once everything was loaded onto the truck and trailer, I had CT and KT pose for a picture. A picture which I’d share with you here had the camera not screwed up and only saved the top quarter of the photo. Suffice it to say that KT and CT were a handsome couple, albeit much younger than Robyn and I expected.

We spent several minutes chitchatting at the back of their truck, and they started going through the “we’re leaving” motions. You know what I mean; the conversation winds down, the quiet times become longer, and eye contact isn’t really held any more.

It dawned on me that we had not been paid for the gym but I didn’t say anything because, well, that would make me look like a money-grubbing bastard of a man.

The conversation dwindled further. We discussed places for them to eat dinner, and I named every restaurant in a twenty-mile radius (see shrimp discussion above). KT and CT went to their respective sides of the truck and opened their doors.

“So, um,” I said, unsure of how to broach the subject, “do you guys pay us now, or…”

Time paused as everyone turned to look at me like I’d just farted. I smiled weakly.

“KT paid me way back when they first got here,” Robyn said, “Didn’t you see?”

I’m surprised no one just out and out called me a money-grubbing bastard of a man.