You Alright, bro?

Today at the gym I was walking over to the weight rack and was looking to pick up the 50 bajillion pound weights which are located in the empty space between the 20 and 25 pound weights. As I extended my beautiful, 8 years of piano playing hands, another set of grimy, ghoulish unkempt fingernails came shooting into my peripheral vision. And before I go any further, there’s something I need to explain. There are certain people out there who have what you would call a great death stare, where they just look at you with narrowed eyes, no words are necessary, you just know that it’s time to shut your mouth (notable death stare people include Clint Eastwood and my high school Finance teacher) I am not one of these people. Whenever I get into a staring contest with someone I always end up laughing. So I turn around to shoot this guy what I’m hoping looks like a pre-fight UFC death stare. Bad choice. First of all, in order to meet his eyes I had to cock my head to about a 90 degree angle. Secondly, he was standing about a foot away but his arms and pectoral muscles were pretty much hitting me in the face. But I was committed so I narrowed my piano sheet music reading, CSPAN watching eyes at this guy and went for it! Immediately, a look of absolute concern washed over this behemoth’ face and he went “Oh my gosh, are you OK?” Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we may never know for sure whether it was because he was truly intimated by this Spartan warriors’ glare or he thought he had witnessed someone right as they incurred a fatal case of pancreatitis and these may very well be the last weights they ever lift, he turned around and walked back over to the Glute Master