Tag Archives: gross

The Tale of Smelly McNasterson

16 May

 

Don’t Leave Your Etiquette At Home!

So I’ve returned to this trainer of mine as I try to lose the leftover weight from college. Which they never properly warn you about at orientation. They give you this entire alcohol prevention and safety spiel, but the powers that be never slam an overweight dude in front of you and say, “Look at this man. He attended this school 5 years ago and guess what? 175 when he started, about 350 now (treeee-fitty). Why? He’d like to thank Jagermeister, Blue Moon and delicious mixed bar drinks that he was able to get for 3 dollars by the bucket.”

For all intents and purposes, I’m that “dude.” Except I didn’t start at 175 and end at 350… just to be clear for those who don’t ever see me in person. Either way, it’s time to get fit now that I have a bit more time to focus on “me.” SO I returned to my trainer, who is busy kicking my ass three times a week for the past month.  His gym is tiny, with a vitamin shop in front, a hallway leading to several cardio torture devices and then the open area full of machines and free weights.  For the past few weeks I’ve been coming in, there’s been a lady running on the treadmill who appears as if she’s been running for HOURS, drenched completely head to toe. Normally, I’d applaud this determination and express a twinge of jealousy for anyone with the patience and stamina. However, this situation is different. When I know I’m going to be working out for a prolonged amount of time, I ensure that the following things are in place: deodorant, socks, deodorant, comfy sneaks, deodorant, large refillable water bottle and the most important…DEODORANT. There’s no secret…you sweat at the gym, and if you’re like this woman, you sweat oodles and oodles. I have an overly sensitive nose…so it’s amplified for me perhaps more so than others. But I never, ever, want to be the “smelly kid” in the gym.

It wasn’t acceptable in elementary/middle and high school and it’s damn sure not acceptable now. My trainer’s store is set up as an organic haven and most of the patrons are purists or vegan or something along those lines. The first time I was on the treadmill next to this woman I assumed her smell stemmed from the fact she must not believe in all the chemicals in deodorant (even though they make a natural one…not sure if she got the memo). It’s one of those situations where you don’t want to stare as beads of sweat turn into buckets, dropping onto the treadmill with a putrid splat.  Note that I said don’t WANT to…more like…HAVE to.

My mind starts moving a million miles a minute…is she a dirty individual? No, she may just sweat a lot. Does her whole family sweat like this? Has she tried hyper-hydrosis treatment? Has she been on the treadmill for hours and hours?

CAN SHE NOT SMELL THE WRETCHED SCENT EMANATING FROM HER GENERAL DIRECTION?

Does she think it’s me?

This isn’t even the most important part.

As I’m worried about being smelly, I take a great concern in making sure I make good food choices prior to getting in there. For example, it seems like a poor choice to consume an entire BAG of green giant frozen BROCCOLI for lunch. We’re adults here…and as the book says, everyone poops and the same is true for flatulence. As I’m doing squats, I’m watching the lady on the treadmill in the mirror. Sweat is literally running off of her…and she just seems so unfazed. It’s truly amazing.  Squat number 75 and I start smelling something new. Less like body odor, more like rotting dirty diaper. It’s not close enough to me to think the trainer did it and clearly I know that I didn’t do it…there’s no choice. It’s my smelly little friend on the treadmill. At that exact moment, I watch her do a deep lunge on the treadmill and suddenly, a new waft of gross. I have what I like to call a “stank face” expression that says, “I saw you, and are you serious?” I’ve lost all concentration and wind up falling.

The thud from MY fall must have startled Smell-a-lotolous because the next thing I know, I hear her fall with a loud…THUD….AND THEN… she ends our gym experience with a… “pfffffffff…”

The loudest, sickest thing I’ve ever heard!

I guess she found herself a bit “winded.”

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Tales Of Online Dating: Poopie Pants

16 May

It’s not me, it’s YOU. A thousand times, YOU!

This story that I’m about to tell is particularly strange, but I swear on my dog’s life…it’s legit. I have this awful habit of getting frustrated with the normal dating scene and turning to the Internet. I’ve only done it a few times, for reasons you pretty obvious by the time this post is done. So! One summer a few years ago I got very tired of being single. My mother says to me, “You should try J-Date.” J-Date it a site where other Jewish people can get together and date, kind of like Match.com or E-Harmony….just for Jews. The entire reason my mom pushes this is because I do not date my own kind. Weird? Maybe. But it’s how I roll.

ANYWAY!

I join and see two guys worth giving my screen name to. Not even phone numbers, but email/IM. Fine. Cut to an IM I receive from George, a teacher from Miami who “seems” relatively well-adjusted minus the main profile picture being him and Goofy from a recent trip to Disney.

Him: Did I tell you the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me?
Me: Ehm…no? We’ve only been talking for about 10 minutes now.
Him: Well it happened today, do you want to know?
Me: Sure? Go for it….

What the hell was I getting into! I was definitely not ready for the response I received.

Him: So today, I’m on the way home and I got stuck in some heavy traffic.
Me: Okay…that seems pretty standard.
Him: I realized that it was too late to turn off anywhere and I really had to…pee. So I just kind of went. Right there. In my pants.
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (etc.)
Him: IT’S NOT FUNNY! IT’S A SERIOUS CONDITION.
Me: (still laughing) OMG…you cannot be serious!
Him: Very!!!

Okay, I sign off. I’m disgusted a little, but think it’s hilarious. No way it could humanly be true, right? For  reasons I cannot explain at the moment, I decide not to block him. After a few weeks of not hearing from him, I completely forgot that he even existed.

About a month later….

Him: Hi, remember me?
Me: I think so…George?
Him: Yes, how are you doing?

Cut to boring conversation of pleasantries for the next five minutes. Then…cut back to this.

Him: Did I tell you the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me?
Me: Yes, you did…last time.
Him: No, something else happened pretty recently.
Me: Uh…I don’t…think…
Him: Well, I’m driving home again, but this time…I had to poop.
Me: WHAT!? You are going to tell me….at 25….you had to poop while driving home, so you just…pooped? Right in the car? In your PANTS?
Him: Don’t act so repulsed! What would YOU do in that situation?
Me: HOLD IT LIKE AN ADULT!

I blocked him immediately and got off J-Date. Come to find out, he lives with his ex-girlfriend who takes cares of him because he got pneumonia a thousand years ago and was bed ridden. While being confined to the bed he had to use diapers because he was too weak to get up and evacuate his bowels by his lonesome. He now has a fetish; he said the doctors were trying desperately to “wean” him off of…at 25.

It’s been about four years since this entire scenario has entered my head, although it’s one of my favorite stories.

A few months ago, I caught up with a friend from High School who went away for College and had recently returned. Somehow, in the mix I overhear her telling my friend the story of this guy she met online that was so bizarre. “He used to like to wear diapers,” she said. “And be cleaned up and stuff like a baby. Loved it.”

“ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT A GUY NAMED GEORGE?” I ask. To which she replied, “Yep, I sure am!”

How crazy…further proof how small the World can be, and why sometimes it’s better to just meet someone naturally and not try to “squeeze a relationship out,” or “Bowel down” to Internet dating.  It’s just not something I want to “doo.”

I’m out of poop puns, I promise!