Then we get to the gym.

Gym Class. Know your station. Embrace it. Photo: Masterfile

All the genetically superior robots in the greater metropolitan area show up in tiny clothes to intimidate the “normals” out of feeling good about ourselves.

The divisions are stark.  Never more so than in gym classes.

Several times a week, I get to a BodyCombat or TRX class.  There are plenty of familiar faces.  And the same goes for gym going sub-groups.

(Side note: These are the same groups you see in high school.  But I homeschooled.  And I’m one of only two, maybe three, guys in class.  Represent!)

The Jocks

Most elite group.  These ladies attend every.single.class.  They’re all business and have the six packs to prove it.

They wear official gym logo-emblazoned tank tops and the acute awareness of an exceptional physique.  Do upper cuts or side kicks follow the five jabs?  Watch them.  Want to know what your obliques will never look like?  Glance over.

Aerobics class Rule #1: Cool kids in front. Photo: Cani Sport

The Popular Girls

Before class, they’re in the front….by the mirrors….chatting with other popular girls.  This group isn’t in front because they’re the best athletes.  It’s to have fun.  This shows in technique…always the light option, but never lacking enthusiasm.

These gals are delightful, in shape and enjoy the social aspect as much–if not more–than the lesson.  If BodyPump were college, their major is Textile and Apparel Management.  Not for a lack of brains.  It’s just not as much fun.

The Outsiders

TRX class perk....everyone looks stupid. Photo: August Man

We grossly outnumber the “in crowd.”  In the outside world, we’re confident professionals with advances degrees and great jobs.  But start that thumping workout music and we transform into bumbling, self-conscious weirdos in front of your very eyes.

On the plus side, we’re the more diverse group.  Quiet, uncoordinated moms.  Not particularly muscular or athletically inclined men (that would be me).  And the uninitiated newcomer, confused by the routine, but too embarrassed to walk out.

So, here’s the new motto (that will never be spoken above a mumble): Outsiders Unite!  We’re slightly uncomfortable, but highly motivated…and doesn’t that count for something?

Heinz Ketchup has no place on a nice meal

Then they say, “I’m going to get some ketchup.”

Um, what?  Why do they need to dump ketchup on a finely prepared meal?

Good question.  Let me try to answer it for you.  Ketchup enthusiasts are not your average eater.  I’ll try to describe this without stepping into “complaint territory,” since my Lenten sacrifice forbids it.

Here’s  a personality profile of a typical ketchup fan:

• Extreme sensitivity to strong tastes (real or imagined)
• Expect indulgence of abounding dis/likes
• Don’t like onions, many cheeses or sushi
• Unquenchable thirst for milk
• Prefer deli sandwiches with only turkey and American cheese
• Aversion to trying new food/drinks
• Indulgent parents
• Inability to understand other’s annoyance
• Heavy dippers in ketchup/ranch ramekins
• Blissfully ignorant of ketchup nutritional facts

Garlic is the catsup of intellectuals. Amen!

I’m close with several ketchup fans.  They’re the sweetest, most caring people you’d ever want to meet.  Except when it comes to meals.  Then they’re my mortal enemy.

I understand their parents let them eat (or not, as the case may be) whatever they wanted growing up.  But as an adult, people like easy going eaters.  When you’re cooking for your friends or hubby, you want them to say, “This looks delicious!”  Not, “Oh…what’s in it?”

Try something new.  Start small.  Nibble on lettuce.

My goal is to slip onions, garlic and blue cheese into every meal they eat.  Since that doesn’t always work, I’ll just chastise them in the meantime.

Lent. Cool picture. No explanation. Photo: Relevant Mag

Last year I gave up gossiping.  This year, something harder.

First, I’m not Catholic.  My closest association is several years of Sunday night mass  as an undergrad at St. Louis University.  Protestants weren’t allowed to take communion, but we got plenty of free wisdom from the Jesuits.  There were no “Hallelujas” or “I feel the Spirits!,” but those priests could preach.

Second, you’re not supposed to showboat during the Lenten season.  It’s a time to reflect on Jesus’ sacrifice and love.  (I was reminded of this in a church bulletin a few years ago.  No zoot suits that year.)

Let's make Lent count! Photo: someecards

Third, I like to do something transformative.  Reducing my salt intake or doing 100 crunches a day doesn’t do the trick.  This isn’t a Take 2 for a failed New Year’s resolution.

So, at the risk of showboating and public failure, I’m going to share my Lenten commitment:  No complaining.

I’m an expert complainer commenter.  I can “comment” on a traffic jam, loud talker, open mouth chewer or otherwise irritating trait, behavior or situation.  So this is a big deal for me (not that it’s a burden…that would constitute a complaint).

Furthermore, I enjoy complainers.  Joy Behar is my favorite lady of The View.  That’s evidence enough.  Her long list of dislikes is endearing to me.  It adds character.

But then there are the Andy Rooneys of the world.  Their volume is on 10…and their noisy nozzle is always set to “spray.”  Complaints are dished indiscriminately about everything from tiny newspaper print to oversized grapefruit.  This type….not so lovable.

So in an effort to fall somewhere closer to Behar than Rooney, I’m squelching my sour  thoughts.  Who cares?  So what!

This is a particularly popular subject with the older crowd.

Sun. Rain. Clouds. Wind. Solar Flares. Photo: Sunday Sun

“My lands…did you hear about the drizzle headed our way?”

“Did I ever!  Now how will we get to the grocery store cafe for biscuits and gravy?”

“Someone must tell Delores.  Now.”

It seems mundane at first pass.  But it’s not.  Everyone’s lives revolve around the weather.  Whether (get it?) it’s getting to work on time, school being in session or getting to the swimming pool, the conditions outside affect all of us.

So, next time you find yourself sitting in uncomfortable silence next to an old man wearing overalls…or a teen wearing jeggings….just ask, “How bout this weather?”

Gas Prices

You want someone to feel persecuted?  Mention gas prices.

Quik Trip. BP. Casey's General Store. Too much! Photo: ABC

Blame OPEC, Barack Obama, Libya, BP, smurfs…whoever.  We all have to pay for gas.  And we always think it costs too much.  (Of course, right now, it really does.)

There’s always an imaginary threshold at which point the bottom falls out.  $1/gal.  No?  $3/gal?  Apparently not.  But it’s coming!

Whether you’re chatting up an over the road truck driver, 16-year-old minimum wager or a gas station owner…almost everyone thinks the prices have gotten out of hand.  So feel free to complain loudly and often!  Others will gladly join you.

Government Waste

Pork barrel spending. Everyone hates it. Nobody knows how it works. Photo: ABC

Ask a Republican what they think of the government’s money matters.  First, you’ll get a huff.  Then a puff.  Then a tirade about the budget, deficit, entitlement programs, welfare programs…and then pork barrel spending.

Ask a Democrat the same question.  You’ll hear about undertaxing the rich, loopholes for businesses, education funding and the lack of preventive medical care…and then pork barrel spending.

Almost everyone has a grievance about the use and distribution of taxpayer dollars.  And unless they’re too polite, they’re happy to tell you about it.

So, if you’re in a social pinch, just say “Did you see the $200 million Tennessee toothpick museum they slipped in the appropriation under the cloak of darkness?”

But make sure to say the cloak of darkness part.  It’s more dramatic.

Teens on MTV's 'Skins.' Teens, not adults. Photo: MTV

MTV loves to push the envelope.  Recall Undressed, Real World and Beavis.  But the network’s newest boundary smasher, Skins, crosses the line from distasteful to downright dirty.

Less than a week after the premiere, critics are wearing themselves out, crowing with moral outrage.  Immorality, drugs, drinking, sex, gays, various states of undress.  But my beef isn’t with the teen actors, greedy MTV execs or lapsed ethics.

I have two primary problems with Skins.  Selfish stage parents.  And gullible teen viewers.

JTT. Not Jersey Shore.

First, these parents.  The actors are aged 15-19.  That means some of the tots’ parental units had to sign contracts allowing their underage children to appear on international TV pretending to smoke weed, get crunk and simulate sex.  One 17-year-old even runs around naked, showing his rear.

Excuse me…most halfway decent parents are worried about their kids having Facebook profiles and somehow ruining their futures!  So many dangers: Untoward updates.  Racy pictures.  Run of the mill adolescent indiscretions.  What about doing that…times 10….in front of 3 million viewers?

What happened to protecting your kids?  How much of their paychecks are the parents cashing?  What childhood dreams of stardom did the parents miss out on?  What thought have they given to their teens’ future jobs, education, families…all of which won’t look kindly on illicit drug use and somewhat explicit on-screen sex.

Of course, the teen actors can’t look that far ahead.  They can’t even get their ears pierced without permission!

My other concern is for young viewers.  Just like the ill-advised actors, teens watching Skins not only think it could be their lives….they think it would be awesome.  With all the pleasure and no consequences, hangovers, STDs or broken hearts not remedied by a line…what’s not to admire?

Spano. Not Showgirls. Choose wisely. Photo: NYDN

I remember (embarassingly) being a teenager, watching Passions (again, flooded by shame), knowing it wasn’t real, but thinking I’d spend winter days with friends ice skating and drinking coffee at bookstores.  Of course, summers would require showing off my chiseled six pack, beach volleyball and drinking virgin Pina Coladas.

For some reason, teens think their TV counterparts are like them.  Believe me.  I thought I was Brandon Walsh, Zack Morris, Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Cory Matthews all rolled into one.  I wasn’t.  I was Samuel “Screech” Powers.

Thank goodness I didn’t think I was a drug addicted, sex crazed boozer.

Hopefully MTV’s teen viewers soon realize it’s way cooler to be Jess Spano than Nomi Malone (Showgirls, ladies and gents).

It’s moving.  It’s sappy.  And it’s formulaic.

Tears

Oprah, Mary Tyler Moore and the ugly cry

Okay, I cried during the first episode while Paul Simon sang an updated 15-year-old theme song.  Then my shell almost crumbled again while watching a clip of Wynonna singing “I Want to Know What Love is” while Oprah, Naomi and Ashley blubbered.

Why do we cry  hearing a woman tell Oprah how she bought an old pair of her shoes and stood in them until she was strong enough to stand on her own?  Because we feel like we’ve been a part of it.  25 years of shared sobs is enough to dismiss any rational embarrassment.

Pre-Produced Vids

As anything remotely poignant happens–or is recalled–on Oprah’s stage, a string of emotional moments runs in the background on an olympic pool-sized screen.  Let us not forget the day O met Mattie…or how she went into the “ugly cry” when Mary Tyler Moore surprised her.

These are the shared moments of millions of viewers and the show will make sure we never forget them…at least until tomorrow’s episode.

BFFLs

Oprah has more best friends than dollars.  John Travolta.  Wynonna Judd.  Will Smith.  Quincy Jones.  Nelson Mandela.  We’ve got a lot of learning to do about how philanthropic, thoughtful and loving they truly are.  How fortunate that every celebrity happens to be a profile in virtues.

Of course none of these celebs match Gayle King.  Don’t insult me.

Having said this, let me admit that I plan to watch every single episode.  At 4 p.m. you know where to find me.  I’m buying Visine, Kleenex and cookie dough ice cream in preparation.

This is going to be good.

I’m in the first group.  During movies, my “whispered” observations carry throughout the theater.  Do I care that someone two rows over can hear that I don’t want the male lead to cheat on his girlfriend?  No.  Am I aware they might overhear?  Uh huh.

But then some people have both volume control and self-awareness deficits.  These are the moms screaming at their six kids in the middle of WalMart’s cracker aisle.  Or the self-important cell phone talker in the middle of the doctor’s office.

Beverly

I met one of these characters today.  Well, I didn’t exactly meet her–just heard every excruciating detail of her life while trying to read at the coffee shop.

The one thing I didn’t catch was her name.  She had giant frizzy hair, oval glasses and a friend who had to be supremely embarrassed.  Let’s call her Beverly…Bev for short.

• 63-years-old
• Wants to go looking for a gay husband in Canada so she can get free healthcare, be married and not have wifely “duties”
• Has 180k miles on her car
• Needs $500 extra a month to cover healthcare costs
• Taught for eight years and is considering substitute teaching
• Waited tables and is considering waiting tables again for $70 a day
• Got officially reprimanded for politicking on state property
• Hates her boss at the state Capitol
• Hates good ole boys
• Hates Governor Nixon and will write in “Mickey Mouse” rather than vote for him again
• Buys organic yogurt every day

There’s more where this came from.  These talkers are in a league of their own.  We all walked away from the coffee shop knowing much more about Beverly than desirable.

Safe travels, Bev!  And congratulations on 22 years withe state of Missouri.  When God closes a door….

HGTV's David Bromstad helps homeowners select a terrific taffeta.

But I don’t get the draw.

Is there a market hungry for hours of picking out the perfect bamboo accent area rug, finding a complementary spot for an heirloom mirror or sussing out the difference between shades of taupe and country white?

Maybe the problem is that I’ve never owned a home.  But I have decorated apartments and condos.  Here’s my normal strategy: Put things on the walls.  I’m not talking Animal House and LOTR posters.  My living space is nice, but certainly not worthy of 60 broadcast minutes.

An HGTV kitchen. Mine doesn't quite look like this.

More curb appeal, splashes of color and shiny faucets help a home and its owners.  Maybe just go to Lowe’s on a Saturday morning and talk to a home wares consultant rather than dedicating 24 hours of TV to it.

Let me say one thing though.  I do like a show called Selling  New York.  It’s about rich people selling expensive apartments to obscenely rich people.  It’s a red alert when the hot water levels are off in a new Brooklyn high rise.  And imagine the panic when the the rooftop pool wasn’t filled three days before an opening cocktail party.  Heads.Will.Roll.  But that’s my only indulgence.

HGTV has carved out a faithful following.  I’m happy they’ve done it.  It’s added countless hours of enjoyment to my parents’ lives.

Here’s the thing…  At the end of the day, I just want my gym to put on The Food Network.  People need to see Paula Deen stuff a battered turkey with 12 sticks of butter.  Not close ups of her kitchen drawers.

Two and a Half Men: Full of comedy stink bombs

Two and a Half Men is everything that’s wrong with TV.  It’s expensive, not funny and on all the time.  If you’ve ever caught yourself wondering what your 12-year-old nephew would whip up for a weekly scripted “comedy,” this is your answer.  Sex jokes with the same punchline every time, a bevy of depressingly desperate aspiring actresses, and a tart tongued housekeeper who picks up after the oh-so-silly boys.

On this evening’s rerun, Charlie is at his wit’s end after Alan keeps texting the lothario’s girlfriend while he’s trying to get smoove sexy in the bedroom.  To retaliate, Charlie gets ahold of Alans’s ventriloquist  dummy and takes it hostage.  Have you ever heard of such a thing?!?  Now that’s situation comedy!

I won’t claim to be a quality TV expert.  The only shows I make time for are Intervention, Real Housewives, Top Chef and Hardball.  While I learn plenty from Chris Matthews, I haven’t  gotten much wisdom from other my other reality friends–not even elegance from Countess LuAnn, my friends (watch the video below to have all your questions answered).

Conchata Ferrell expertly plays the mouthy maid

The big downfall of Two and a Half is its lack of comedy.  It is every recycled joke in the book mixed with Charlie Sheen’s bowling blouses.  At this point, I’m almost hoping they bring in the writers of CSI: Miami or Living Single to improve the writing.

The only upside to the show is the maid.  She’s been in everything, but I never knew her name.  It’s Conchata Ferrell in case you’re wondering.  By the way, she’s 67 and steals every scene.  In any case, she’s bawdy, ballsy, and brash.  I can’t think of a woman I’d like to hang out with more, except Zoila and Rosanna on Bravo.

Related Articles:
Celebrity Cafe – Sheen to Make $2 Million Per Episode
Canada.com – ‘Two and a Half Men’ is a Crime Against Humanity
EW – ‘Two and a Half Men’: Dumb or Smart?

U.S. Capitol: Where common men become politicians

Since we’re largely overlooked, we elect people who we think represent our experiences and interests.  This is a blessing and curse for both the public and the people we elect.

The blessing is thinking our folksy, cowboy hat wearing congressman is just a hometown boy looking out for us in the big bad capital.  Alright, that’s the only good part I’m going to mention.

First, the big letdown for voters.  How do I put this delicately?  Your elected officials are not like you.

You vote for them and think they’re just like your Uncle Jimmy or Aunt Barb.  They’re not.  They didn’t work on the Ford assembly line or at the mill.  It took big time donors, hours of glad handing and years of jockeying to get where they are today.  When they showed up to speak at your union meeting or pro-life prayer group, they didn’t pull their remarks out of their overflowing heart whilst standing before you.  They were carefully prepared–and usually not even by the candidate.

Rand Paul balances honesty and palatability

Let’s take Rand Paul for example.  He didn’t get to where he is by ascending from Head Room Dad to PTA president to a serious contender for the U.S. Senate.  He was groomed.  The problem is he didn’t take to grooming very well.  If you want to win, you can’t go spouting off about repealing parts of the Civil Rights Act.  You have to blend in.

That brings me to the official side.  The system ensnares the very people who benefit from the misperceptions they create.  They have to decide how to balance being a real, candid person and remaining palatable as their ideology comes under close inspection.  It’s nearly impossible to not equivocate and dance around touchy topics.  Most politicians set out to change the way Washington works.  At first, they get support from the base by being candid, then have to shift positions to snag the popular vote.

There is no such thing as a common man candidate.  There are kind, decent, and concerned men and women in Congress.  But don’t get them confused with your next door neighbor.  They’re all playing to win.