Image  —  Posted: June 9, 2012 in Uncategorized

Brother Guidos

Posted: October 18, 2010 in Jersey Shore, Serious StuFf

Dear Brother Guidos,
Your web site provides for me vicarious thrills and, at times, quiet reflection. You see, I am the only Italian in the yuppiest town on earth–Lake Forest, IL. I’ve lived here all my life, but I’ve always felt like an outsider. Soccer moms with Golden Retrievers whiz by in their Volvos and represent a world I despise. Alas, I am a misplaced guido. In high school I was totally different. Instead of polo shirts and khakis I wore tight tanks with arbitrary numbers on the front and spent my time, not at the country club, but in the gym getting hard. By sophomore year, I was by far the biggest and brownest guy in school. I also invented a walk I called the “yip yap” that consisted of a delayed leg drag countered with a sort of wave action with my two arms working in unison. It’s fly. I still use it today.

I got picked on a lot even though I was by far the best athlete in school. I didn’t play any sports, but I’d jump over garbage cans and stuff to impress girls. Speaking of girls, I got all of them. By the bushels. In a world of white, weak preps I was a huge break from the ordinary. Sort of like Zima. I actually took pride in getting called names like “Greaser” and “Greasy” and other forms of lubricants. No one ever
had the balls to say it to my face because my two arms, Thunder and Lightening, did all the talking for me.

I didn’t go to college in favor of a career in cutlery
sales. I’m bigger than ever but have always felt like a ship without a port here. My music, my body, my car are all lost on these people. Then…a trade show brought me to Jersey for the first time in my life last summer. Sure, a cutlery trade show in Tom’s River sounds great on the surface, but I had no idea the adventures and the experiences that were going to unfold. After four long work days and being relegated to lifting sessions in a **** *** hotel gym (ever tried to get a pump with 25s?!), Saturday, my night of deliverance, finally arrived. I was in line at GNC when three of the biggest guys
(next to me) I’ve ever seen wouldn’t stop raving about this place a few miles away called Temptations or Tempts. I thought they were talking about the Motown group at first, but when I listened more closely I heard the buzz words that make my heart beat quicker: chiseled, thumpin’, dancing, jiggin’, movin’, shakin’, bakin’. I knew I had to check it out. I asked the guys what all the noise was about. They complimented me on my physique and I returned the pleasantries. This one guy Zeek just said, “Get in the Aerostar. You’re comin’ with us.” Somewhere along the drive I just started to feel something. It
was like the Tempts energy was reaching out to me in the back of that Minivan. Through my seatbelt and everything. We pulled up. I looked and saw a line of the best looking people I’ve ever seen im my life. I got out, jumped around and slapped the backs of the guys who had delivered me to heaven. I did forty
push-ups to get a good pump and got in line. A few hours later, I walked into the club. The people. The energy. The bodies. The music. I took it slow, but within a few minutes my shirt was off and I was thumpin’ to the beats with everyone. I tried to take my pants off but I guess that’s not cool. Anyway, I had the best night of my life that night. To this day, if you see me with a huge smile on my face, I’m either lifting or I’m thinking about Tempts. I haven’t been back since, but your site helps me feel as if I’m there. I’m in a new line of work now, and if Tom’s River ever throws a cell phone convention. I’ll be back. Keep up the great work. There are no excuses.