S***t we see at the gym, on the road, and in the pool. Seriously?!

Hey followers of the fit world, leaders of the locker room, and rulers of the road!  Corehore Living has a new feature celebrating all the "s***t we see at the gym, on the road, and in the pool."  EVERYONE has a story, I know it.  And everyone therefor must share.  I will spoon mine out to you nice and slow so you can take in every hilarious or downright ridiculous morsel.  Nothing outside of my son's exploits or my clients' antics tickles me more than the human condition in all it's hilarity, disgust, and bizarre beauty....at the gym, in the pool, or on the road.

So you get a better idea of what to share, know that this is the stuff in this world that makes us smile and cringe all at once.  That which we want to discuss, but never do for fear of sounding 'weird'.  That which aids us in our own self reflection.  And that which keeps us laughing and laughing all throughout a horrific workout.  Bring it on folks, I'm counting on you!  I will start this epic off right with.......

Banana Man. 

It was a rainy September morning, which in Vegas heat is weird and provoked full moon like human behaviors.  Or just Vegas like.   Weather report said to watch out for hairy male drifters.  My loyal client, Tomoko, and I were going over an ab exercise next to the windows looking out into the wet parking lot from the gym.  A waving man attempting to get our attention succeeded and we both stopped the workout to assess more important things such as this man's attire:  shirtless, shoeless with short jeanshorts and impressive pot belly.  Upon finally receiving both our non-threatened (he didn't seem strong enough to break the glass without the belly getting hitting before his arms) and incredibly curious gazes, the shirtless rainman blew sweet kisses to us.  We were utterly captivated in the most nauseating way possible.  Having had us frozen under his spell that only the hairiest-marshmallow-with-toothpick-bodied-exhibitionist-raindancer man could, he reached behind his large circumference of a back as if to say, "wait....there's one more thing. Pick a hand little girl."  It was then that he pulled out the ultimate finale to his performance from a wet plastic grocery bag.  He waved that soggy brown spotted banana at us as though it were the ultimate diamond ring of the produce section sure to convince us to leave our spouses and run off into the wild wet Commercial Center sunset with him. 

And then as quickly as my clients disappear to avoid my questioning after the workout hour, he vanished into the rain to pursue the other far off female windowsil loiterers.  Just like that, the most creative pickup artist had exited my life.  We were speechless other than Tomoko's innocent inquiry which was a direct reflection onto those with which I associate myself.  She asked, "Do you train that guy?".  No....but I sure wish I did.