The Passion of the Weiss

Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick. But most of the time, I don't rhyme.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

More Scenes From the Inferno

Another day, another meager sum of dollars, another trip to the Woodland Hills Gold's Gym, a place that will forever live in infamy. As I've previously mentioned, circumstance and fate has compelled me to be at this squalid gymnasium most weekdays between 5:30 and 7:00 p.m. During this window, I generally recoil at the site of humanity and alternately try to ignore everyone in my vicinity or play a little game I like to call: guess who's a porn star. This is the Valley after all, let's get real. Porn grows on trees out here. Very fake trees with very artificial tans. Honestly, what the fuck am I talking about at this point.

So there I am, ensconced in this little corner of Hell, obviously a victim of some sort of karmic vengeance being inflicted on me thanks to some wrongdoing in a past life. And I come across a man wearing a backwards USC baseball cap and doing some sort of absurd chest exercise. He was about 6’5” and looked some sort of Abercrombie zombie gone horrifically wrong. Suddenly, my porn radar began going into hyper-drive, despite the salient fact that he lacked a ponytail (I am told that rocking the 1986 ponytail is mandatory to gain entrance in the world of porn.) This notable absence boded poorly for his porniness.

However, being the other-worldly journalist that I am, I scrutinized the picture even closer to note his supremely bizarre T-Shirt. On the front, it read USC football. On the back, it had a picture of a Trojan Sword and Sandals Warrior sodomizing a male bear clad in UCLA blue and gold. His sheer awesomeness blew me away and suddenly the road not taken appeared before my very eyes. Porn star or not, this man had found enlightenment here on earth. After all, what trumpets your masculinity and the general dominance of your football team more than male/bear bestiality? Fuck if I know.

After resisting the urge to vomit and after dousing my hands and eyes with acid for about ten minutes, I returned back to the gym floor, hoping I could make it through the rest of my workout without wanting to get all stabby.

But as I always say, divinity strikes in strange ways. And oh it struck me, at about 6:30 p.m. on a Monday evening, for as I started to do sit-ups (yes, I’m that vain), I noticed a hulking presence next to me. None other than the greatest man to ever walk the face of the earth. No, not Jesus Christ, not the Buddha, not Moses (you religious zealots, you). No, I’m clearly talking about the esteemed comic, Sinbad. You know who I’m talking about. The star of “Jingle All The Way,” “First Kid” and 1993’s unforgettable, “The Sinbad Show.” Normally, I’m not dazzled by the presence of celebrity, but this was too much for me. What should I say to him? What is he really like? How is my hair? These questions floated rapidly through my head.

Alas, I flopped under the pressure and all I have to report is that Sinbad definitely enjoys tricep extensions. Can’t get enough of the stuff. I’m sorry to say that I’ve failed you my dear readers, but more importantly I’ve failed myself. Now, the world will never know what Sinbad is doing (though from the looks of the guy, it involves a vast daily consumption of fried foods). All I can do is reiterate the lament from the end of “Easy Rider:” “I blew it…I blew it.” Now to go drown my sorrows in Everclear.


At 9:35 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey whatsup Jeff. Haha i like the post...I actually saw him at this other gym called 360 in Reseda one day...he got VERY overweight...and is now host of the "ghetto-est" show on Earth, Showtime at Apollo....the show that Steve Harvey used to host. THought I would fill you in. Haha peace

-Jake F.

At 11:36 PM, Blogger Passion of the Weiss said...

Sinbad defines the word phat in both senses of the word, he is larger than life and therefore needs to carry a substantial girth. I am starting a Sinbad newsletter if you're interested. It's all Sinbad all the time. Gonna be huge.


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