I haven’t been to the gym in months, its awful. I can slip my entire arm through most keyholes and I break a sweat when I accelerate my car. When school is in session DJ and I try to stick with a fairly regimented work out schedule, pumping iron a minimum of three days a week. Unfortunately, we kind of slipped off our schedule…back in November. I have since found a supplemental exercise program, but in many ways its falls short. That program is Wii Fit. It is easy to use, I like the look of my Mii character and I can finally wear what I want (spandex) to the gym. I’ve been able to push aside the program’s shortcomings (ie: lack of results),until now. I’ve recently come to suspect my Wii Fit instructor is a gay.
Leslie, my instructor.
Indication Number One:
When I go to the gym with DJ we do pretty basic manly exercises: sit-ups, bench press, dumb bell curls. Also, if possible, we try to work on two machines so no one is left waiting around. Now when I work out with my Wii Fit instructor, Leslie, he has me do exercises like hula-hoop, yoga and step aerobics. Also, he never participates. He just watches me with his arm’s crossed, occasionally adjusting his crotch, saying things like “Even out your balance, Roy”, “Looking hot, Roy” and “Tighten that ass, Roy.” It makes for an uncomfortable work-out environment.
Indication Number Two:
At the end of each Wii Fit work out session they tally up your weight, improvement, calories burned etc. It’s very informative. I’d be fine just reading my information, but Leslie always has some snide remarks. For example, I missed a day of working out and he completely overreacted:
Leslie: Today you worked out for 45 minutes, you burned 389 calories, your height is 5 feet 9 inches.
Me: (presses A button)
Leslie: Roy, why did you not work out on January 1st?
Me: Sorry Leslie, I had to move into my new apartment. I’ll work out extra tomorrow.
Leslie: You’ve got a new apartment, Roy? Thanks for letting me know you bitch.
Me: What? I’m sorr-
Leslie: Roy, who are you living with? Don’t tell me you’re living with that bitch DJ.
Me: Well, actually, Leslie I am and frankly it’s not really your place to-
Leslie: Roy, if you are serious about weight loss you need to drop that bitch. You hear me, Roy? Yes or No, Roy?
Me: (presses A)
Leslie: Good, Roy. Listen I’m better for you. We have potential. Call me. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t eat cake, Roy.
Me: Fine….(puts down cake).
Indication Number Three:
After that debacle things got awkward. One day I got to the yoga part of my routine. Leslie usually has me do a series of moves, the warrior, the jack knife, the standing crane. They help with balance or something, I don’t really know. But today Leslie had me standing in the “downward dog” position for the entire ten minutes, facing away from the television no less. He still said his usual encouraging commentary: “Don’t move, Roy”, “Don’t turn around, Roy”, “Oh God yes, Roy”, but I didn’t find the work-out very rewarding. Leslie made a loud groaning sound nine minutes into it and when I finished and stood back up he was asleep.
Indication Number Four:
The Nintendo Wii also has internet capabilities and users can e-mail other users, you know in case the real internet and all phones and post offices are shut down. You can always use Wii-mail, you just need to copy down your friend’s easy to remember random 16-digit ID code. Anyway, it was a Saturday morning and I was loading up the Wii for my work-out, but before I could load the program, my mail flag went up. 34 new inbox messages? Over night? This made me think Leslie is not only gay, he might also be bi-polar. Here’s a sampling
< I’m gonna open my fly and you’re gonna swallow what I give ya to swallow. And after you swallow mine you’re gonna swallow Rooster’s cause ya done broke his nose and I think he oughta have something to show for it.>
<You’re going to meet the most extraordinary men, the sexiest, brightest, funniest men, and you’re going to fall in love with so many of them, and you won’t know until the end of your life who your greatest friends were or your greatest love was.>
< My three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, and we sitting in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening. The Korova milkbar sells milk-plus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we are drinking. This will sharpen us up and make us ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence. Hope you’re ready>
<Tell you what, we coulda had a good life together! Fuckin’ real good life! Had us a place of our own. But you didn’t want it, Roy! So what we got now is Wii Fit! Everything’s built on that! That’s all we got, boy, fuckin’ all. So I hope you know that, even if you don’t never know the rest! You are too much for me Roy, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I wish I knew how to quit you. >
Indication Number Five:
Well, I moved back up to New Paltz a couple days ago; now I’ve got no more Wii Fit, just old fashioned weight lifting. I had put the whole Leslie thing behind me. I ignored his calls, blocked him on AIM, the whole to-do. DJ and I were relaxing at a local tavern, enjoying some refreshments and all-in-all minding our own bee’s wax, when who should walk in? Leslie!
I was like, “Rats! DJ do not look now.”
“What is it, Roy?” DJ put his hand on mine.
“It’s Leslie! He just walked in.”
DJ looked stealthily over his shoulder and immediately noticed the holographic mannequin in the doorway.
“Roy, it’s going to be OK. I’ll handle this.”
I gulped. “Gulp.”
Leslie ordered an Irish Car Bomb, which he chugged, only to have it fall through his translucent body and splatter on the floor. He came over to our table.
“You must be Roy’s bitch, DJ.”
DJ took out a gun and shot Leslie in the face. Then he pushed me into a pinball machine and went to go make out with a girl. That’s why I like to work-out with DJ rather than Leslie.