INSON RAGE!!

You've all heard of Dave Rage. Well today I witnessed Inson rage and it's even scarier. I have been calm recently and looking back, I experienced the most Dave Rage when I was hitting the gym the hardest. Especially during cylces of semi-illicit performance enhancement supplements. There is nothing better than increased testosterone levels to bring out the hulk. 'Don't make me mad, you wouldn't like me when I'm mad!'
So last week Inson joined Gold’s gym with me and has been put on a weight training program. If you go to Gold’s, it doesn't matter what your goals are; weight loss, gain, fitness, shape, the trainers will always make you do weights. And as Gold's Nakano isn't too busy, Inson has been getting personal training. While doing my dumbbell flys I glance in the mirror and see her face straining like Arnie in Pumping Iron, veins popping out of her neck as she dead lifts 4 plates a side, well.. Make that the bar only, still a respectable 20 kilos. 'Right-on' say I. None of this aerobics or Pilates crap. She fits right in with the big boys and k-1 fighters that go there. Since Gold’s is the only serious weights gym in the whole of Japan, you can expect to see some fighters and local professional bb'ers. I used to feel adequately buff in Tipness, but here I feel like Gollum without the strength. Inson however seems to fit in well with all the grunts and straining. Trouble is that it has elevated her aggression too. Few people have witnessed a pissed Inson but I have and it's scary. She's one of those people who make up for quantity with quality. I tell you the bile that can come out of her mouth.
We left the gym in good spirits only to find that the council had taken our bikes. I have an ongoing game of cat and mouse with the local bike-taking crusty old boys and until today have evaded them skillfully. Today I was caught off guard and lulled into a false sense of security by the warning tag put on my bike earlier. This usually signifies that they had no room in their truck and so let me off with a warning. You know the idea; if you get a parking ticket you are safe from getting another one for at least the rest of the day. But as it was raining there weren't many bikes around so the pickings were slim and they decided to come back for seconds.
In this situation all you can do it bend over and take it like a man. You must recover your bike from the local impound and pay the hefty $50 fine. As this is the council there is absolutely nothing you can do to avoid paying unless you just leave your bike there. Not my mountain bike thanks. I am angry but understand the futility of resistance and just give in. Not Inson. Her Anabolically induced rage simmers just below the surface of her skin but I can see the pressure building up just like Nasty Canasta when Daffy Duck messes with his mum.
We get to the impound yard, and she explodes at the old dude in charge of the bikes. She shouts obscenities at him in a mouth so foul I consider bringing in a priest. She slams down the money and begins to walk away refusing to fill out the form. The old boy tries to placate her by only asking her to fill in the name and address. She yells at him to do it himself and begins a prolonged expletive over and over about the sorry state of Nakano city. I am standing by sheepishly trying to look supportive but behind my masque of concern I just want to get the fuck out of there before they call the cops.
Anyway, after several more comments dripping in sarcasm (and you think there was none in Japan) we ride home. I'm trying to forget the incident but Inson is still seething.
'Perhaps you need to work off your aggression at the gym' say I realizing the stupidity of such a comment. She'll be back there tomorrow no doubt, since she's already addicted to 'the Iron'. I just hope none of those K-1 guys are hogging equipment that she wants; otherwise they may find themselves in the title fight of their lives.