So it probably went something like the old board-game Clue: we’re going to DC for XXX with person YYY and we’re using the ZZZ, we’re going to Atlanta for AAA with BBB and we’re staying with CCC, we’re going to Blacksburg on these weekends, we’re staying with fam on these weekends and going to try and see MMM for this game and NNN for that game. Etc. Etc. Etc.
At some point, my old friend came up. The standard, “have you seen him?”, “where is he?”, “have you talked to him since”, was where the conversation drifted to. The answers to those questions, and other similar to it, are: no I haven’t seen him, no, I don’t know where he is, although I know he was joining the Army, I haven’t talked to him in at least two years because the last time we even e-mailed was a simple, “hey I know we hate each other, but I wanted you to know my son was born and he’s healthy and we’re doing great, here’s a pic”. “congrats, that’s awesome, leaving for boot camp in 3 days, later”.
Since I know you can’t stop wanting to ask what happened, I’ll just say that my friend was a meat head. Lol, that’s mean and not true. I mean, he was a smart guy, read a lot about history, had good jobs – but he was a weight lifter. Actually got into big time. He was huge, you could see the fruits of his labors – like his bicep veins were about the size of my biceps. You’re scrawny. Shut up. But he was unstable. I met this guy in college in like 1996-97. And he was unstable then, big emotional swings, before he even got serious into the weight lifting. Then he got serious into it. And he got more unstable. I am by no means saying this guy raided Barry Bonds’ medicine cabinet, or saying that I am officially laying down the gauntlet of accusation. I’m just saying that if you were to have intimate knowledge of his bodily intake at that point in his life and you told me it included Jason Giambi’s mixtures – I would believe you.
Then, should you decide to throw alcohol into the mix, and this friend became even more Hyde than Jekyll. And, far be it from me to explain it, when groups of old college buddies get together for football, bachelor parties, cookouts, poker, whatever – there’s a running theme at these events, and it can be described in units of pints and liters. So, our last encounter was actually at a party at my house, and he had been imbibing, and there was a fight, and some threatening stuff was said to me and my wife and other friends, and he’s no longer welcome in my life.
Where is this going? Sorry, yeah, way off track. You think? I figured why we fell out of touch was a big part of this story, and now that I’m about to get into why I’m typing today in the first place, I realize why, or that we even, fell out of touch is totally irrelevant. Brilliant! But I’m not backspacing, deal with it. Fine, just get to the good part.
Wait, it does relate! You see, the funny part is centered around his weightlifting. That’s why I wanted to get the back story in. “Had a friend, we fell out of touch, because he was unstable while in a weightlifting binge, Oh hey! have a funny story about that!” It’s a stretch. Objection overruled, but make it quick. Thanks. So this friend, when times were better between us, invited me and some of our other boys into town one weekend to attend one of his bodybuilding competitions. You know, the Mr. Olympia Universe, cover-yourself-in-fake-bake-spray-and-pose-down-in-your-underwear, stuff. He made it out of his division and into the finals, but ended up like 5th, so no medals. But I think he was 5th out of like 18 in his weight class. Which was cool.
They’d put six of them up there for the music, routine, and pose-down – choose two of them for the finals. Then they’d put six more of them up there – choose two for the finals. And finally the last six – and last two chosen for the six man final. I want to remember and say that he was in the first six to go in his division, because I want to say that he was sitting with us in the crowd watching the other two groups of his division with us. He’d call them out, knew some of them, cheered for some, tell us who was big, who shouldn’t be in this division, etc.
They’d all come out on stage initially in a jump suit, sweat suit type outfit. And when their name would be called they’d disrobe and do their official routine of poses to their own music and then they’d line up for the six man pose off. Then the judges would choose the two to move on.
So anyways, when the third group got on stage, there was a guy up there who my friend said he saw backstage and the dude had no business entering this competition. Said the guy wasn’t cut, wasn’t built well, and didn’t know why he’d enter something like this and pose down with a bunch of huge cut up bodybuilders. Said the dude didn’t even look like he worked out, just looked like a regular dude. I was able to pick out the guy in question pretty easily, even when they were all up there and had on their sweat suits.
Jacket came off. My boy was right. This guy wasn’t cut up at all, he might not even be a weight lifter. I silently agreed with my boy, like, why would this guy even enter this competition? You were judging nearly naked dudes? Shut up! It was a bodybuilding competition and I was being an objective observer. Then the pants came off. And it quickly became readily apparent why this guy willingly signed up to be in a competition where he would be standing next to five other guys on a stage in front of a couple thousand people wearing only a Speedo.
Let’s just say, the judges and people in the first row might have had to duck if they didn’t want to get a mushroom tattoo on their forehead. I couldn’t help it, I’m that guy at sporting events, I heckle, I yell, I’m outlandish. I couldn’t help it. Don't do it. I yelled it.
PIPE!!!!
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