2.2. Hunks Like Us.

OK. Listen up everyone. Your old buddy Larry just might be in love.

Like most of my adventures, there was a lot of pain and embarrassment getting there; but I met an amazing woman this week and she seems into me. Balki was uncharacteristically more helpful than not this time, and he seems to have a fish on the hook, too. It's a bull market here in Chi Town.

Anyway, here's how it went down. I was cleaning the window next to the door at work. As is his custom, Balki was on the clock but nowhere to be seen. Twinkie strolled in with his paper and offered a genuine compliment for the super clean window, and I thanked him.

"You've finally found an expert job for your talents," he said with an eye roll, and I smiled while imagining plucking those eyes out of his head and seeing if Balki had some spicy island recipe for them.

Speaking of Balki, he came tearing in right behind Twinkie and demanded that I congratulate him. I congratulated him, and then asked why. He told me that today he had joined a health club. It was yet another example of Balki believing that he deserved some level of recognition for giving somebody money in exchange for a product or acquiring something you're supposed to get, like a driver's license. Lay off it Pope Bartokomous, I'm not going to congratulate you every time you take a dump and I'm not going to congratulate you for joining a gym. God, get over yourself.

I asked why he'd bother joining a gym, and he grabbed my arm-fat as his answer. Now, wait a minute. First of all, Cousin Larry is rocking the ideal body. Have you ever seen Michelangelo's body proportions painting? I see it every day in the mirror. I tried to blow off his sudden cruel outburst, and so Balki resorted to straight-up schoolyard bullying, telling me that "with aerobic exercise and muscle resistance you can whittle away that disgusting bag of body fat you got." Balki is continuing his cruel game of psychological warfare, breaking me down at each barrier until there's nothing left of the confident Larry Appleton you all knew back in Madison. Having beaten me down sufficiently with his guilt trips and making me feel like a bad person, he's now moved onto image consciousness - telling me that I LOOK like a bad person, too - and overt name calling.

Even though Balki was being a dick, Twinkacetti and I teamed up to explain to him that some of these gyms are designed to rip you off; Twinkie took it a step further, telling Balki that some gyms sign a bunch of people up for memberships and then split town with all the dough. His logic was a little specious - the concept of a fly by night gym doesn't make any sense. Would it really be worth renting a space and setting up all that equipment just to move it over night after collecting down-payments on half a dozen memberships? I guess it would only work if they never let you even SEE the gym before signing the contract, but you'd have to be the dumbest person on earth to fall for that.

So it was a coin toss whether this is what had happened to Balki, now that I think about it. Also I shouldn't question Twinkie on criminal activity, so let's all assume this con exists and is targeted at humanity's dimmest and thickest. Enter Balki, stage right.

Now instead of backing off from his investment Balki decided to double down, asking if I wanted to join the gym with him, and I told him not on his life. I'm too smart for gyms.

"This river," I said, pointing to my brain. "Runs too deep." BOOM RESPECT IT.

Then Balki showed his hand. He got all serious and muttered quietly, "you will meet woman in tight leotard."

A ha.

It had been a while since Pervert Balki surfaced, so I'd kind of forgotten the monster that lurks beneath his flashy vests. But he came roaring back this week, revealing that his whole purpose for joining a gym was to do some Grade-A rubbernecking. I told him that women who go to those clubs aren't interested in guys like us (brilliant planmakers and their mouth-breathing foreign sidekicks) and encouraged him to drop his membership.

Here's something weird. He listened to me. Balki went to the phone to cancel his membership, whining all the way about how now he wasn't going to get any exercise; but Twinkie caught him before he could get to the receiver and told him he had fifty cases of motor oil to move in the back, he could work out on those.

Two firsts in ten seconds. Balki listened to me, and Twinkie finally called him out on never doing his job and gave him a direct order. I went back to the window, thinking to myself that there was something special about this day.

I had no idea how special it was going to be.

Seconds later, the finest stone cold fox I've ever seen in my life walked into the Ritz. A tall blonde, decked out in denim with hair as high as the ceiling. I made my way over and dropped the smoothest "may I help you?" I could muster.

"I'm looking for Balki Bartokomous," she said. Of course she was. For the briefest moment I introduced myself as Balki, but then realized no piece of strange was worth that and corrected myself. I told her I was his cousin.

"I'm Jennifer Lyons," she said, and I felt a little twitch down below at the mere speaking of her name. Turns out the perfect 10 had sold Balki his gym membership, but he unsurprisingly "was so excited" that he ran off blindly into the street afterward without signing the application.

I told her I was thinking of joining a health club, and she suggested I check out "Reuben's Perfect Body" where she works part time. This was going swimmingly. We were practically to first base. Then Balki came out and almost ruined it. He told her he was about to call her, and before I could let him say "to cancel my membership" I dragged him across the room to explain that I was in love with this woman and I think we're going to spend the rest of our lives together. It's uncommon for a stone cold player like Cousin L. to say things like this, and I wasn't sure Balki understood the magnitude.

Balki asked me if I'd asked her out, and I let out a haughty laugh. Amateur. "You can take the boy out of Mypos..." I said with a knowing grin. "Women like this are only interested in jocks. I can't just ask her out. I have to deceive her first." Balki totally doesn't get running game on chicks AT ALL.

So Balki went back to sign the form and Jennifer invited me to come to the club with him to check it out. I told her I'd have to skip my fifteen mile run (genius) but I'd give it a shot.

Cut to Reuben's Perfect Body, downtown, the next day. The outside had a flashy banner declaring "Food, Fitness, Fun!" I thought it was a little weird that the gym would list "food" as it's primary draw, but Reuben's also had really legitimate looking awnings with the logo painted on it so I felt some assurances that this wasn't one of those mysterious "vanish overnight" gyms that Twinkacetti warned us about. Inside looked a lot like the film set of a low budget porn set in outer space. The floors and walls were all pink and purple with curved metal and large round windows decorating the walls, and women in tight leotards stretched and pranced about in every corner of the room.

Maybe Balki was on to something.

Babes babes babes, oh my Lord so many babes! And two dudes at a bench press, but aside from them Balki and I appeared to be the only sausage at this party. I started to wonder if the membership cost a grand a month and Balki had accidentally bought our way into some kind of above-ground prostitution ring, but everyone seemed to be legitimately exercising so apparently he'd just stumbled onto the best kept secret in Chicago. Since we were there and it looked legit, we proceeded to work out. I was wearing my standard exercise outfit: dress pants and a green sweater. Balki was wearing the nicest clothes I've ever seen on him: a sharp collared golf shirt and high-waisted black shorts with dress socks and wing-tips.

"So here are the rules," I said. "Jennifer is MINE."

"But I saw her first," Balki said.

"But I LUSTED after her first," I told him. "This is America. Learn the customs." I've finally realized I can turn Balki's game of getting away with shit by blaming it on my nation's customs back on him and finally put myself at an advantage. He basically backed down. Arf arf! That's the sound an alpha dog makes.

"Watch and learn," I told him, as I made my way over to the weights.

Over in the weight area there were a lot more dudes, but I was riding pretty high at that point and considered them all pale comparisons to the bounty that is Cousin Larry. I laid down on the bench at the shoulder press, where an extremely large man who looked like an Incredible Hulk version of me in an inappropriately tiny spandex outfit told me there was too much weight on there, but I brushed him off. He pulled the bar down for me, and it lifted me right off my ass and into the air.

There I was hanging suspended, and I instructed Balki to get me down. His method of doing so involved lying on top of me and wrapping his legs around me like he was shimmying down a fire pole. His timing for this lewd act was perfect, as Jennifer came around the corner in an amazing full body pink spandex suit that had to be seen to be believed.

Jennifer was already creeped out, and I hadn't even gotten my shirt off yet. This was a bad start. She told us she was about to start an advanced aerobics class but there was a beginner's one in the other room if we were interested. No WAY were we sinking to that indignity, and she couldn't brush us off that quick. Balki and I pushed our way into Jennifer's class, which started with some light jogging in place. I smoothly jogged over to the spot next to her and said in my coolest cool guy voice, "this is an advanced class? Ha! It's a JOKE."

So so smooth, Larry A.

"So Jennifer, you're not going with anyone, are you?" I asked, but just then the exercise changed and Hulk Larry Appleton swept his arms out, knocking me backwards.. For those of you keeping track, I believe this maintains my streak of being hit hard by another adult without any consequences at least once per week since Balki got here. Anyway, I was knocked out of my spot and I'd have to make a new move. Meanwhile, another blonde fox had made her way over to Balki. I heard her introduce herself to Balki as Mary Anne, and that she was a Sagittarius. Balki responded in his most absurd little-boy voice that he's Balki, and he's a Bartokomous.

God.

In the exact same breath Balki asked "do you want to go out with me?" and she said she'd love to. Well, apparently it's that easy.

Later on Balki was trying and failing to do a situp and I was rocking 10 pounds on the chest machine. Jennifer was doing curls, and she pointed out that we looked tired. I just laughed her off like an old English king and told her that tired was a state of mind. I was so dialed in, you guys. Couldn't make a false move if I tried. Jennifer walked off, pretending to be weirded out by me but I know deep down she was into it. I was kind of glad though, because I was finally able to take a break.

I was seriously hurting. We'd been there four hours, and Balki asked me when I was going to get it over with and ask her out. He reminded me that we'd already done 400 situps, which if you're wondering is definitely foreshadowing. Then he wandered off, which I should've immediately known was a bad sign but I was too busy showing off my weight training for another fine piece of tail that walked past me. Numa-numa-numbers game, y'all.

Balki came back looking all guilty, saying he'd done something. He rattled off some Myposian and translated it into "he who hesitates sleeps with the goats" which does not surprise me AT ALL. I said "I thought you all slept with the goats," and he said "we do."

Yeah, we went there. Subtext be damned.

So then Balki told me that he'd gone over and asked Jennifer flat out if she'd go out with me. THAT WAS NOT THE PLAN! I had been working on this plan all day! Four hours of gun-pumping, aerobics, core workouts and awesome one liners, down the drain!

This is when that violent, homicidal break I've been barely holding back since Balki first showed up at my door finally struck. I saw red. I leapt at Balki to kill him, but was still strapped into the chest machine. I told him I was going to deport him in pieces as I tried to free myself. I eventually escaped, and chased Balki around the gym. When I finally caught him, I grabbed him by his admittedly fashionable polo shirt and pulled him close, ready to bite his face off.

That's when he told me she said yes.

Boioioioing! Balki was forgiven.

With no need to exercise ever again we returned home, like conquering generals. I declared myself "massive" and we strutted and peacocked around the apartment talking about how jacked we are. I reminded him that in six hours, two gorgeous women were coming to this apartment and asked him if he knew what that meant. He did not.

I told Balki that for his benefit, we should identify our objective. He asked if this was where I talked down to him, and I told him it was. "What we are trying to achieve is physical contact," I said. "Now how do we achieve physical contact?" Balki suggested we beg, and I considered it. But then I told him the ace in the hole. "Dancing."

Balki loved it. We were going to dance our way into those pants. I told Balki we should both rest because we were going to be up all night doing the nasty. So we sat on the couch, and the effects of our four hour workout kicked in within moments. we both passed out hard.

Hours passed.

I woke just as the last rays of sun were leaking from the apartment. I could not move. The pain coursing through every inch of my body was so intense I wished I was dead, and - like I always do when I first wake up - hoped Balki would be. Apparently this is what happens when you get your first real exercise in seven or eight years by going balls out at the gym for half a day. I looked at my watch; it was 8pm. The girls would be here any second.

I roused Balki, who let out a gutteral scream the moment his eyes opened. He was in as rough shape as me, which I kind of appreciated actually. They don't breed em that tough on Mypos after all, do they? We struggled to get to our feet, and Balki said we'd have to cancel the date. This was out of the question. You only trick a Jennifer Lyons into going out with you once. He tried to make his way to the phone and I chased him, but we could only take baby steps because of the pain. It didn't matter - a knock came at the door.

The babes were here.

I told Balki he had to sack up and not let on, because I WANT Jennifer (I even creeped myself out a little the way I said it) and they'd never stick with us if we were that beat up after one workout. Balki agreed. We let them in and told them to have a seat. We did our best to saunter over to the couch, walking like we'd just been dosed with phenobarbital and grinning painfully like we were just barely holding back the urge to murder them. Mary Anne was frozen with fear, but Jennifer sniffed out our gym fatigue instantly. Balki tried to admit that she was right, but I shut him up real good.

We sat down, each letting out an involuntary scream that I brilliantly passed off as a karate kiai. Balki mentioned we had wine and cheese, and seriously Balki?? We JUST frigging sat down, are you trying to kill us both? Mary Anne said she was starving, so of course up we got again, staring daggers into each other the whole way. We struggled mightily in the kitchen. Balki immediately dropped the cheese in the trash, and I fell on the floor while the two of us fought to open the wine bottle. While I struggled to get up Balki stumbled back to the couch holding the wine bottle like his erect member, and they just rolled with it; so either these gals are cool, or they're super pervs. Either way I'm in.

Of course, after watching us go through this whole exercise Jennifer told us that they don't drink; could've mentioned that before we fought our way off the couch and into the kitchen, bitch; but before I could get too mad Mary Anne suggested we all get up and dance. Weirdest date ever?

Now, normally they would've been playing right into my hands. Dancing was the plan. The plan was working, like they always do. Balki and I were in no shape to dance, but you don't deviate from the plan, ever, especially if the plan is to get laid. I told them we could dance, but this is where Balki hit his wall. He came clean that we could barely move. They told us they'd assumed we overdid it at the gym because we were going at it so hard for four hours in our business-casual outfits, and they had kind of expected us to cancel the date.

I admitted it was all my fault, that I thought they'd only want jocks, and that I'm slime. Jennifer seemed a little hesitant, but Mary Anne was totally giving Balki DEFCON-1 level Dirty-Eyes right in front of all of us.

Balki always gets the freaks.

But hey, lesson learned: since we'd come clean, the girls decided to stay and basically take care of us. We had a lovely evening that isn't worth recapping here because everyone's pants stayed on and the girls left a few hours later. Balki and I talked about how nice they were and he wondered why I assumed they wouldn't be into us. I told him that back in high school the cheerleaders only dated the jocks, and I wanted a cheerleader so bad. I kept going off on how bad I wanted a cheerleader that Balki finally warned me that I was going to hurt myself and glanced down at my pants. Message received. This was NOT boner time.

Instead it was sleep time. We were too tired to even pull off the Dance of Joy, which seriously sucks. Balki and I both passed out standing up and slumped to the floor, each probably dreaming about the other one's date because that's just how it goes. 

I wonder whatever happened to Susan?