I Have A Bone To Pick With You, Tony

*For my new readers and also for my readers who have the memory of a gnat, Woney is my friend in California.  She has a personal trainer, Tony, who is a Navy man in his spare time.  I got to work out with Tony and Woney once and while the workout nearly did me in, Tony was a joy ogle. 

Dear Tony. 

I’m quite angry with you, for several reasons.  For starters, I’m still upset that you flat refused to use your Navy uniform for good during our memorable workout session.  Uniforms have a single purpose, correct?  To define those who do good for our nation?  (Excluding prison uniforms, of course.)  Obesity is rampant in this country, Tony.  We are approaching a national crisis status with it and yet you refuse, nay even argue with my logical and compelling request to stand at the end of running paths as ladies jog toward you in an effort to drop pounds and improve health.  Your shining chiclet teeth do provide some light at the end of the tunnel, yes, but just imagine how much faster and further we would run if you would merely stand there in all of your uniformed glory, a shining beacon of goodness.  I thought you were an American, Tony.

I was perfectly content to be angry with you for your lack of uniform, at least for a while.  I figured if I whined about it enough to Woney and through her, to you, you would at last give in to my pleas and wear the uniform the next time I come work out in California.  (I’ve got whining skillz, yo.) But then I saw some pics from your fitness website and now I’m mad at you because I think you are pretty stingy with the shirtless workout, too.  Tony, do you know what those abs could do for America?  Do you have any idea the good you could do?  I’ve been struggling with my gym visits these last couple of months.  I lack what you call “motivation”.  Four a.m. comes awfully early and since Lynnette is very sweet and a girl, it becomes easier and easier to blow her off when the alarm rings in my ear.  However, if your abs greeted me every day at 4:30 in the a.m., I believe I could find motivation aplenty each and every day to be a good, healthy American citizen and leap eagerly and spryly out of the confines of my cozy bed.  Because have you seen your abs?

Finally, I’m angry with you because someone stole my garbage can.  It’s the second time in a month that it has disappeared and I’m really beginning to wonder about the mental stability of my neighbor.  If you would come here, Tony, like I’ve nicely asked you to do (and bring Woney, of course) you could solve my garbage can problem.  You’ll need to strut around in my yard sans shirt, really swagger it all around, and I’m certain that my neighbor will either a) be so taken with your gleaming abs and chiclet teeth that she forgets all about stealing all my stuff or b) be so terrified of your manly physique that she forgets all about stealing all my stuff. Either way I get to keep my garbage can and America wins because stealing is wrong.  We don’t want a country founded on crime, do we Tony?    

To make it up to me, Tony, and more importantly to your country, you can do one of three things. You can wear your uniform at our next workout session for which I will leap eagerly out of bed at four in the morning.  You can loll around shirtless at our next workout session for which I will also leap eagerly out of bed at four in the morning.  Or, and this is my favorite option because it does not involve me leaping out of bed at four in the morning,  you can move to Tennessee and make yourself at home on my sofa either in your uniform or shirtless.  Or both.  I think Navy pants are quite fetching when worn alone.   Show us your patriotism, Tony!   Or at least your abs!

Your favorite,

Jimmie

 

This here is Tony. Do you see?! My argument is even more compelling with photos, right? <whimper>

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