Friday, January 02, 2004


So on New Years Eve afternoon, I was attempting to forestall a heart attack and lose some weight by actually making use of my Bally's Health Club membership. Wandering among the Cybex machines, looking for one that can hid the fact that I can bench press any weight under that of a large canary, I see this familiar looking guy. Black hair, glasses, etc., but I can't place his face.

He sees me looking at him and kind of shoots daggers at me out his eyes for an instant. Then, he kind of turns away, but keeps glancing back at me. Almost like he knew I recognzied him, but then realized I didn't know WHY I recognized him.

As I set the leg lift machine to an appropriate weight, it clicked. Now, this club was located in the north suburbs of Chicago. Northbrook / Deerfield border. Once the location of where I was set in, I had the guy marked. I left him alone. Hell, I had nothing to say to him. I wasn't trying to be mean, just figure out the connection.

Well, I sure hope Steve Bartman doesn't think I had a nasty look on my face.

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