Thursday, January 26, 2012

5 People to avoid at the gym

1. Aggro Alan

Forget about “working in” on any machine this meat-head is using, he’ll be a while. “Aggro Alan” is at every gym. He’s the guy that looks like his muscles have muscles on top of them, and you better believe he wants to show off as many of them as possible. That’s why his once in-tact “Cabo Wabo” t-shirt is ripped off at the arms and now resembles a tattered rag.

What’s in that water bottle he’s using? Probably some mixture of whey protein, soy protein, whey-based soy protein, and creatine. If you squirted it on a roach, it’d probably die. Alan will do whatever he can to make you feel inadequately weak while taking up as much space and equipment in the gym as possible.

Do your best to avoid “Aggro Alan” at the gym and do not feel bad you’re not as strong as him. Instead, feel bad for his significant other, his friends, his tailor, small dogs he may try to pet, and the two-dozen chickens/turkeys/cows/hogs/large fleshy animals that had to die so his fridge could be stocked for the week.

2. Shauny Sweats
“Is it raining?” You wish. That’s just “Shauny Sweats” announcing his presence without saying a word. This is an unfortunate interaction, because in many cases, “Shauny Sweats” is a nice person who doesn’t mean to be an annoyance. He just sweats…a lot. He’ll make you think that the bicep machine was just rubbed down in vegetable oil. In a shocking display of unawareness, Shauny often leaves his machine without wiping off his puddle of sweat. Sometimes, Shaun will induce a monsoon of perspiration when sloshing through the miles on a treadmill or stair-stepper. In these instances, it’s not out of the question to wear waterproof headgear or a poncho.
Does he have a glandular problem? Or has he simply been working out for three hours and sweating like a Sumo wrestler in South Florida? Either way, there’s always a Shauny…sweating profusely and usually grunting as he strains to get in that last rep. Shaun can sometimes also morph into a “Stinky Stan,” in which case, you may be better off simply leaving the gym.
Don’t feel bad if you mistakenly sit down in a pool of “Shaun Juice” (awkward choice of words) and get his sweat all over you. Instead, feel bad for his significant other, his co-workers, his laundry basket, the piece of paper he attempts to write on, and anyone within 10 feet of his treadmill.
3. Peppy Paula
You can see her coming a mile away. Everyone knows her…at least they will know her by the time they leave the gym today. “Peppy Paula” loves the gym, she lives for the gym, she’s there so much she might as well pay rent, and she’s always so freakin peppy.
Even the happiest people can’t quite wrap their heads around how this woman is so cheery day after day. She’ll say hi to every one of the staff before bouncing from machine to machine with a cult-like smile on her face. She’ll spring around on the Stairmaster like today’s the first day she’s able to walk. She’ll make small talk at the water fountain, even if you have headphones on. The gym is her life, and by being in the gym, you are now an important part of her day. She wants to know all the important details of your life the first time she meets you. Pretending your music is too loud and you’re in the middle of Lat Pulldowns won’t help you either, she’ll counter that by throwing her towel down next to you and waiting for you to complete your set. Once you take a break, she’ll pounce with a barrage of niceties and questions. There’s nothing wrong with being friendly and polite, but Paula takes it to another level by “offering you a spot,” showing you pictures of her cat, describing her workout routine, and talking your ear off while on the treadmill next to you.
Forget enjoying your workout in peace with your own thoughts, you are now at the mercy of Paula’s verbal onslaught. Don’t feel too bad however, it could be worse. Feel bad instead for her family, who must get multiple phone calls per day, as well as her friends, who must want to run head-first into an oncoming train, and her therapist, who is most definitely reconsidering that career choice.
4. Sleazy Simon
Ladies, ever feel a bit insecure at a gym? You’re dressed in tight-fitting clothing, have no makeup on, and are sweating. You’d much rather complete your workout in peace and get out of there, right? Well that won’t be happening if you come across “Sleazy Simon.”
Simon is that guy. He’s been eyeing you every step you take, every time you lift something, every time you take a sip of water. He’s clearly unaware of social norms and boundaries and has opted to overtly stare at you and your lady parts. He acts as though if he stares hard enough, your clothes will pop off while doing squats.
Every now and then, you may come across a nightmarish combination of “Sleazy Simon” and “Aggro Alan,” in which case, you should probably just leave the gym (and possibly file a restraining order). In this instance, he will ogle you, maybe elbow one of his macho buddies and give you a cocky “head nod,” then eventually make his way over to you.
After flexing while trying to not look like he’s flexing, he’ll drop some horrible line, such as
“Great place to work out huh?”
“I love that machine. Hey are you in my Pilates class?”
Or “Do you come here often? You’re in great shape.”
In either case, it’s not a bad idea to carry around a can of mace, in case your glares don’t do the trick. It may seem a bit harsh, but sometimes people need to be taught a lesson on proper social behavior.
Note: If you actually mace somebody, please do not reference this article when questioned. Also, please videotape this encounter…it’ll probably be hilarious.
5. Exhibitionist Edward
Possibly the worst of these offenders, “Exhibitionist Edward” will torment you with graphic displays of skin and inappropriate clothing choices. He will haunt your dreams with a twisted, skin-tight mess of spandex and sweat stains. His view of himself and society’s view will differ greatly. In his head, he’s John Basedow…in reality; he’s more like John Goodman.
Bicycle shorts really shouldn’t be worn by anyone, but ol’ Edward seems to think that they’d be a good choice to wear in public. Skin rolls? No problem. Back Hair? No worries. Man breasts? Excellent—show them off! This baffling mindset may cause a wave of nausea around the gym, but it could be worse. Feel really bad for his significant other, his friends, anyone who sees him in workout attire, and most of all…the kids. Think of the children Edward!
If you can somehow manage to avoid these characters at the gym, consider yourself lucky. If you have your own private gym and have no idea what I’m talking about, also consider yourself lucky. For the rest of us who know these annoyances well; keep your eyes forward, your music loud, and good luck.
Snake Alley Song of the Day: Fun. - Carry On

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Money Money Money Money...Money!

“You’re a slave to money, then you die.”
--Bittersweet Symphony, The Verve, The 90’s

I’ve always believed five days of work and two days of fun is not a formula that needs to be followed. We get stuck in roles and stereotypes, plus most jobs tend to force us into this, but ‘working for the weekend’ seems so fleeting and pretty fucking boring.
I could make enough money teaching tennis to live extremely comfortably and build savings. I don’t do this though. I scrape by on rent, have no savings, and am still stuck in the ‘getting by’ phase of financial security. Why? For one, teaching that much tennis would completely burn me out, leaving me exhausted physically and mentally. Second, I’d have no time to enjoy myself, write and pursue other interests, explore, live like I want to live, and construct grandiose run-on sentences. I’d be working for that little two day window to get out and have fun with the rest of the working world.
One of my tennis clients has his own island. Yes, his own island. I have no idea how he got his money; whether he worked tirelessly and became successful or was born into it, but he certainly knows how to spend his money. Working in a rich area has definitely sparked my imagination as to what I would do if I inherited or fell into a bunch of money. Rather than putting it in a boring bank account, or purchasing that status-symbol Beemer that looks like every other car in the Merrill Lynch parking lot, I have some more out-of-the-box ideas for what I’d do with my cash…
1. Purchase every dog in animal shelters around the LA area, get them some good food, then film my own reality show. The premise: one guy trying to live with a thousand dogs. Imagine the struggle for space on the bed, the constant overflow of poop, and the household politics. Poor little dogs get a home, plus we get to watch one dude most likely have a nervous breakdown. It’ll be totally unscripted, but will still somehow have better writing than “The Big Bang Theory.”
*If the dogs overtake him and the guy dies, we’ll just get a new guy. It’ll be like survivor, only with homicide.
2. Hire enough people to herd the members of Nickelback into a van at gunpoint. After duct taping their mouths, berating them with verbal mockery and insults, and setting loose a live raccoon, they will be forced into exile on their own island (surrounded by hungry, vicious sharks). The island will have a radio with enough battery power to last a year. The radio will play Nickelback’s Greatest Hits (oxymoron) on repeat until they promise to never make music again. Enough is enough.
3.  Start my own law enforcement branch, the “Grammar Police.” Anyone caught using “Your, You’re,” or “Their, There, They’re” incorrectly will be forced to repeat the 2nd grade.
4. Blow it all in Vegas. They could use the extra cash.
5. Buy a house in every state (except Kansas…I’m not a masochist), then hire a sky-writer to write “SNAKE IS EVERYWHERE, BITCH!” in the sky.
*No, I’m not drunk, I just think that’d be pretty funny. I’d probably give most of the houses away to deserving people…especially the ones in shitty states.
6. Buy a house on the beach, then open up a Chik-fil-a inside my house. First of all, Chik-fil-a is fucking delicious. Second, the employees are always extremely friendly. Add in a Pop-A-Shot machine, a beer fountain, and a Swedish masseuse and I’m probably not leaving that house…ever.
These suggestions are just the tip of the iceberg (not a Titanic joke). In the end, I’m just happy being able to pay rent (fingers still crossed for this month). I don’t need all that stuff, I’d love some of it, but I value free time and experiences more than earnings and financial success. I sincerely hope to never become a mindless slave to money so I can continue to tell jokes, run on the beach trying to be Hasselhoff, and of course, write a disjointed, goofy comedy blog.
Oh by the way, reading Snake Alley now costs $1.99 per page view…I need some extra cash. Thanks.
Snake Alley Song of the Day: The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony

Monday, January 23, 2012

Legal Death Aides

No, this entry is not about Dr. Kevorkian, although for the record, any man that can have success labeling himself “The Suicide Doctor” and not be a part of some obscure death-metal band must be doing something right.

I’m talking about a different kind of assisted suicide, smoking. Smoking kills 4 out of every 9 people in America today, according to a study I made up. The numbers for children are even more staggering. The same study says that 1 out of every 3 children will die a smoking related death. Shocking, I know.


Let’s face it; Hollywood has traditionally been to blame for at least a small part of that influence on children. James Dean: what a stone cold badass. Aaron Eckhart in Thank You for Smoking: I’d buy anything that man sells. He could make me trade my car for a corned beef sandwich infected with mononucleosis. Patty and Selma from The Simpsons: come on—how could you not want to smoke after watching those two foxes hack their way through carton after sexy carton?

At some point, regardless of media persuasion or peer pressure, people have to make their own decisions—and therein lies my beef (not corned). I just don’t get the appeal. You inhale, die a little bit more each time, then it’s over. If I’m going to spend my money on some “substance,” I better get a little more bang for my buck than that. Beer or alcohol, I get it—you get buzzed, drunk, hammered, sloshed, blitzed, shitfaced, blacked out…you get the idea. Other drugs, I get it too—you get trippy, high, messed up, crazy, jiggly, muddy, clammy, arrested for indecent exposure…you get the idea. There just aren’t any highs to cigarettes. It’s not looked upon as something ‘cool’ anymore, it doesn’t enhance or change your mental state in any way, it just gives you smoker’s cough, yellow teeth, and a slew of diseases and conditions that will end your life prematurely. That doesn’t sound sexy to me (except you Patty and Selma, I will love you always).

I tried to put together a pros and cons list of smoking to see if I could come up with any pros. My cons list was longer than my typewriter could produce. (Yes, I still use a typewriter, I’m old fashioned. You crazy kids and your computers and your rock music). I only had one pro: you have some company outside in the freezing cold Piscataway, New Jersey winter when the manager at Bennigan’s makes you take it outside with the other “wheezy’s.” (Yes, as you probably have noticed by now, I use lots of specific and obscure references. I guess it all goes back to the time I was at Taco Johns and bumped into Peter Saarsgard and we started to play a game of Connect Four, but he had to leave because he said he wanted to get home to make sure he caught the new episode of Clarissa Explains it All, but I think he was just leaving because I was about to win—Clarissa hadn’t been on the air in nine years).

(Yes, I also use alot of parentheses. You can find me on TV and radio doing advertisements for parentheses, I support them whole-heartedly and if I use 200 in my blog this month they will give me two tickets to the next Lady Gaga concert))))).

Now, back to cancer sticks.* Past the issue of why people start smoking, it’s clear that they continue because they are addicted to them. Addiction is another thing I don’t understand. The closest I ever came to addiction was Funyuns and Mountain Dew (two 6-packs of Dew a day is normal, right?).

Most people with addictions seem to realize they have an addiction. If you understand you have an addiction to something that is horribly harmful to you, well, you should probably find a way to stop. Did I really have to spell that out for you? Get your ass some Nicorette and get in gear!

The ones who don’t realize it or are in denial, wake the fuck up! That persistent cough ain’t from the smog, and no you “can’t stop whenever you want.” 

So, in conclusion (because I’ve run out of things to say, and I’ve met my daily quotient of parentheses), if you’re addicted to the ciggys, get some help. If not, don’t start, they aren’t cool anymore. Maybe try some shrooms.

*Cancer sticks in this case refer to cigarettes, not the other widely known use: as a nickname coined by dozens of former girlfriends of Nicolas Cage. The name refers to both his skinny legs and the growing urge to kill yourself when you’re around him.

Snake Alley Song of the Day: M83 - Midnight City

Monday, January 9, 2012

Poorly written article with mediocre sex jokes

With 2012's goal of one blog entry per week already a miserable failure (Oh, hi January 9th!), let's get cracking on 2012's newly revised goal of 50 blog entries for the whole shabang. Here's an article I had originally intended to write about the illustrious career of Vin Diesel (I mean, who could forget his performances in "The Fast and the Furious," "The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift," "Fast & Furious," and "Fast Five?" Oh...you can forget about those performances?)

“.XXX” Domain names now available, Vin Diesel upset, but unable to express emotion
Not since handheld cameras paved the way for POV style movies has the porn industry seen such a revolution. Purveyors and professionals in the adult film industry can now create websites ending in “.xxx” rather than “.com.”

Innovators of this idea hope to coax many adult sites over to the new domain names, making it easier to set parental and lock features for children. Finally, mothers searching for a shoulder strap for their children’s backpack won’t get bombarded with obscene material when they mistakenly use the keywords “Kids, Strap On, Sack.”

Finally, young kids interested in the rodeo won’t get a premature life lesson when typing in “cowgirl,” or “bull-riding.”

FINALLY, fifth place local Berea, Ohio softball team, the “Cleveland Steamers,” can rest easy at night, knowing they can finally put up that much deserved fan page without their children stumbling upon something that would likely scar them for years to come.

Eager web surfers looking to make a quick buck have rushed to the forefront, buying .xxx names they believe will be in high demand by porn companies. I was admittedly late to the game, but still managed to secure some great .xxx web domain names. Hopefully I will see some profit from one of the following Jake Craney purchases:

Hummus.xxx
AndersonCooper.xxx
WeebleWobbles.xxx
WiltChamberlainSTDCheck.xxx
DoobieBrothers4Life.xxx
FlopSweat.xxx
ILoveThePacifier.xxx (Vin Diesel call-back…didn’t think you were getting one, did you?)

Snake Alley Song of the Day: Gotye - Somebody That I Used To Know