Until today, I thought one of the most unfuckable people in the world was the guy my mom has been dating since I was 15. I'd describe him for you but I just had processed meat for lunch and I'm already not very good at keeping that down.
The Chicago Hot Dog. With all those pickled vegetables, where's the room for the cream cheese? #seattledog
Everything has changed. I try not to judge people too harshly unless I am given a reason, so I almost felt bad about this guy I temporarily coexisted with on the bus, with his size x-large K-Mart wifebeater hugging his midsection, constraining what can only be imagined as an outie belly button the size of a tennis ball and showing off a skin tag on his shoulder blade that I would describe as a birthday balloon deflated only enough for the party to have been maybe 4 or 5 days ago. He had on saggy black basketball shorts and something around his head to the effect of an old engine room rag twirled into a thin strip, likely to keep the sweat on his bald head from dripping onto his face, which was being violently molested by his finger around the nasal area.
Alas, I was given a reason to comment after all of these thoughts had already run through my head. This man was standing on the bus in all of his lack of physical glory, walking to the front, and as the bus approached a stop, would hurry the people getting on the bus -- no one moved fast enough for him.
All the same, when passengers would be disembarking, he would chime in, "Hurry! Hurry! Come on, now!" The young women getting off the bus were treated no better, but were I'm sure feeling like ladies when he would rush them with direct eye contact on their tits and asses. Dick.
It's certainly a strange coincidence that after I got off this bus with this fat piece of shit, I get home, check the mail, and I have something delivered to me from W.I.T.S, or World Instructor Training Schools. You see, back in June of 2012 (a year ago), I had finished up a 9 week personal training certification course. The whole process was kind of a joke. It was once a week, the instructor was nice a hot, beefy drill sergeant or even a lean, fit, perky young lady with a positive outlook on life. It was a pear shaped woman in her late 50's/early 60's who was apparently some sort of dance instructor who wore a pressured grin the entire 9 weeks and had a short temper. Ok, that last part might not be quite true, but she looked a lot like my bitter, awful drama teacher back in high school, so that's where that might have come from.
Anyway, this entire class had very little hands-on training whatsoever and I honestly didn't feel like I learned a lot. And probably didn't, because when it came to taking the final, I passed the hands-on stuff with flying colors (things were kind of a 'duh' in general) and barely passed the written with a 74% or something thereabouts. Either way, I passed. So to complete this certification, all I needed was to do a 30 hour internship at a gym. Yeah, that's nothing.
I did what I needed to do, sent in the forms a few weeks before I moved to Chicago, and then today I received a large yellow envelope in the mail. I brought it to my room, ripped it open, looked through all the papers about continuing education, business certification courses and whatnot, and finally at the bottom of the pile was my certificate.
Pretty cool. Except I just looked it over and it's good for two years from the completion of my course. Which was June 9, 2012. So it's good for less than a year now. Great. $650 later...
Will I use it? We'll see. Will I continue my efforts in becoming more certified with perhaps a more well-rounded program? If I get into the personal training business this year, then yeah, probably. Maybe an employer will help me get on track with a more valid certification. I've been told that these W.I.T.S certifications aren't the most widely accepted.
Maybe I'll do a personal personal training gig. Like, through Craigslist or something. I'm more interested in motivating those who want a lifestyle change when it comes to their diet, getting healthy, and losing weight. Those TV shows where people are motivated and put in the effort into changing themselves to look better and potentially living much longer have always flirted among my interests. I'm not so much about helping people bulk up, because let's face it... I need help with that myself.
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