All Workout And No Play

By Steve Bussiere

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I have a very dear friend who lives far, too far away from where I find myself sitting right now, … in a physical sense, at least.

I remember back to a time when Olivia Newton John had an album with a great tune entitled “Let’s Get Physical”.

I really liked that album, not only because of the music … but the pictures were, ahem, …stimulating, (I can’t think of a more apropos adjective), to say the least.

Due to relatively recent changes in my living arrangements, I no longer own a turntable. But I have retained the album, for entirely selfish reasons.

I like to think that it’s because it reminds me of a time when everyone I know had much harder bodies than time allows one to retain, although I realize that there are some folks I know, who are struggling to recapture, that which time has ruled, “long gone”.

I salute these people and their zealous crusades to recapture past glory. I suppose some people just want to be teenagers again, although when I recall that period in my life, I am unable to fathom how one would even want to go there again.

Time is the never relenting enemy, (yeah, I actually figured that out myself), and it takes no prisoners. I know, because I checked into it. Heck, I currently hurt in places I didn’t know existed, back in the day. If my body is a temple, it is in dire need of a total refurbishing. And no one worships there either, a sad commentary, on a sad excuse for a temple.

I’m lucky though, I don’t have to look at me. The gods have smiled on at least one aspect of my life.

My aforementioned, dear friend, worries too much about her physical appearance, at times.
I think that she kind of looks like Olivia Newton John.

She is a lot like Olivia Newton John as well. For instance neither of them talks to me these days. Perhaps it’s due to the turntable’s absence, or then again it may be that they’re both just too damned good for me.

It’s pointless to speculate, which I figured out yesterday.

So into my chariot I jumped and headed off to The Triangle.

Unfortunately it isn’t one of those “love” triangles, it’s more of the Bermuda type of triangle for me.

Football game day.

So I entered The Triangle and glanced around quickly.

Nope, definitely not the “love” triangle.

My faraway friend was not there and neither was Olivia.

But my good friend Mexican Joe was there. My brother from another mother had found the best seat in the house, so I went over and sat down with him to watch the Texans, and then the Cowboys.

Joe is an American of Hispanic descent, but everyone calls him Mexican Joe anyway.

I used to call him Tex-Mex, but after a few beverages that gets difficult to say clearly.

I sat at the table and thought that over for a while.

He needed a simpler name, but “Joe” was too simple.

I thought the entire matter over for a while longer when the music in the background changed to “Bang A Gong”.

Enlightenment and inspiration are wild things, born at times of nothing more than complete and utter boredom, with a slice of music on the side.

The new name “T-Mex” was born of that exact mindless type of inspiration.

T-Mex drives a stylish Mercedez Benz, which is the same color that it was when he first drove it into the parking lot at The Triangle. Being as it has remained the same color for several months, we have deduced that he must have bought it in the old fashioned way, with real money.

“You’re gonna get a reputation T-Mex.” I mentioned to him.

“Why do you say that Steve?” he asked.

“Well you drive around in that fancy pimp mobile and people may think you have a lot of money or something.”

T-Mex smiled. He’s got a really good smile, the waitresses told me so.

That’s when The Wiz walked through the door. “G’day mates!” he said as he sat at the table with us. “What are we watching?” he asked.

“Football Wiz, Texans game and then the Cowboys.”

“Okay.” He said as he took a sip from his beer. “Let the games begin!”

“They already started Wiz.” T-Mex answered, pointing at the television screen.

“What have you been up to all morning?” the Wiz asked me.

“Coffee, doing laundry and cleaning the bachelor pad.” I told him. “How about you Wiz, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, I was in the workout room this morning.”

“What were you doing there?” I asked.

“Working out Mate, that’s what you do in those types of places.”

“Yeah but you’re not a young guy Wiz, working out is for young guys … and Olivia.”

“Who is Olivia?” The Wiz asked me.

“An Australian girl, like you Wiz.”

“I’m not a girl Steve.”

“I know Wiz, but you’re Australian, just like her. Do all you Aussies work out?”

“I’m not sure Mate, but I do, and I guess Olivia does as well but she wasn’t in there when I was this morning. Which apartment does she live in?”

“Currently she resides on the second shelf in my humble abode.” I told him.

The Wiz was non-plussed at my response, and looked over at T-Mex.

“Well then Mate, I’ll just have to change my schedule and see exactly when she does her workout. How will I know it’s her though?”

“Oh, you’ll know Wiz, and you’ll fall in love in a heartbeat. And when your heartbeat stops she’ll whip out the paddles of the zapper, rip your shirt open and start singing like an angel.”

“What will she be singing?”

“Not sure Wiz, but if it’s something like, let’s get physical, you’d better make sure she has those zapper paddles close by. Hey, what happened to T-Mex?”

“He went out and got into the Benz.”

“Where was he going?”

“Not certain where he went, he just muttered something about heading to the O-zone.”

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