I know, I know, another gym anecdote. You probably think I’m some sort of (aspiring) meathead (like Alec). I swear I’m not. It’s just that lots of odd and amusing things happen there. Like naked guys in the locker room. And not naked guys changing or hustling into the shower, but standing and talking. And not just standing, but posing. Why is it that some 60 year old dude feels the need to corner me with his foot up on a bench and a hand on his hip, like Washington crossing the Delaware? And all the while I’m standing there, trying not to look, but feeling my eyes drift downward, ready to submit to the hypnotic oscillation of his testes, which dangle maybe an inch off the ground–resembling some crude, wrinkly version of Newton’s Cradle. Haha. Balls.