Signing up at 24-hour Fitness... or How I Got Revenge for Gym Class Trauma

So my other great friend (condo-mate, uber-coffee supplier and all around great bud) Phil got me to sign up at our local gym, 24-Hour Fitness. Now for me to actually JOIN a gym is quite an amazing feat. I come with some physical fitness baggage.

I was not a "sporty" kid. I was a nerd... (was? am? whatever...) and I pretty much liked all things that didn't involve sports or broccoli. I remember the long litany of Igor-esque gym teachers (of equal measure male AND female) who drove me nuts with whistles and inane things like, rope climbing, running until you puke, sweating, and (my middle-school favorite) Dodgeball (which I promptly boycotted and became the seething hatred of my ex-military sergeant gym teacher). Then there was my High School gym teacher. A raving, man-hating, ugly-as-sin, lesbian. Why someone with this disposition teaches 14 year old guys gym is beyond me. It was always apparent that she couldn't stand any of us, and in particular me. She probably thought I was a total wuss, and she would of been right. But something she didn't really let anyone know is how to safely lift weights. So let's put this picture together; 14 year old boys - knowledge + competitiveness + really really heavy weights = me trying to beat another guy on squats, losing my balance and tearing a good chunk of my back muscles. My teacher was probably pretty happy about that...

(side note: my junior year Adv English teacher was also the football coach (???) and would never give me anything higher than a C because I was a tall, well built guy, in band (gasp!)... who didn't play on his team that never won a game.)

So not only do I have the long list of sadistic, sad, washed out gym teachers... but then there are the countless peers who, for the lack of anything meaningful in their life, throw all their chips into athleticism. Now... sometime well before I was born, the athletic spirit had merit, a focus on building one up and working well with others. Alas, by the time I was born it had become the opiate of the masses, the thing that all else was unfairly measured, and a complete distraction to what I though really mattered (AP classes and getting the nerve to talk to cute girls) But in the end it gave me the outside-looking-in perspective that I quite enjoy.

SO back to current events... there was a "deal" (which I'm always skeptical of) at 24-fitness that they were waving all fees and signup charges. Get this, NORMALLY, they charge something like $70 to $100 bucks for "filing paperwork" So all those jocks who didn't learn anything, well they work in gyms now, and they think that filing paper work is REALLY tough, so they charge alot for it. Like I said, I got past that and got a super deal through my buddy, Phil. So now I just pay $15 bucks a month, keep my head low, and hope that the manager isn't my old High School gym teacher.

Ayric vs. Andy

So if you're new to the whole Ayric/Andy universe you might be confused (and if you're a vet, you're probably still confused) so let's start with something "easy" like my name.

Ayric (simply said like Eric... but spelled much sweeter) is my first name, Andrew is my middle... and something long and Germanic for a last name. Easy right? Nope... Ayric is ALSO my father's name... and a name I really like having. UNFORTUNATELY... having two Ayric's around the old homestead wasn't gonna work. So I was Andy for the first 20 or so years of my life. (I found out my "real" name at age 8... talk about confusing) I think my pretty, uncomplicated "Andy World" started to unravel when I met Ada. (who's world hasn't after meeting Ada?) Seeing that, yes indeed, Ayric is a killer name... she refused to refer to me as Andy. So she got me used to Ayric... while all my other friends and family called me Andy. Then in the summer of 98' I worked with two other "Andys"...so I dubbed myself the newly adopted, Ayric... Fast forward to 2002... where I worked under the name Ayric (in a failed attempted to off "Andy" once and for all) I also met some of my current friends, one being another "Andy". So now all my friends started to call me Ayric too.

Then I applied for my current job... and it slipped... Andy. So now at work I'm called Andy, my friends call me Ayric and my family calls me Andy but the bill collectors call me Ayric.

That's just my name... it gets more complicated from there...

Yes... I TOO Have a Blog

By complete accident and no fault of my own... I have a blog. My dearest friend and alter-ego, Ada, has a though/rant-invoking blog at http://absolutelycorrect.blogspot.com (potty mouth warning...just FYI). To respond to her blog, you have to make your own. Happy about this... I am not. Why? Many might think that I am quite happy to opine about any random thing that comes along. Yeah, it's true, but I like to do it on someone else's upkept and "relevant" blog. NOW I guess I have to do it too... and promote it and blah blah blah... maybe I won't tell anyone... that would make having to worry about things like grammar and punctuation and spelling completely unnecessary. So if you have found this... well then that idea didn't work either

Let me just say this... you might be entertained... you might be informed. Mostly likely you will realize that am the most illogical debater, the most creative speller, the most inventive grammerist, and that I have no respect for the English language. Maybe I'll just dump links... maybe I'll write something that will change the world... who knows. Keep watching...