26 December 2006
♥ gymbo
I hate the gym. I hate the smell of sweat, I hate the stifled chatting in the locker room, I hate the big macho guys who make me feel like a total loser. The gym is gross.
There are a few things, above all, that I despise about the gym.
1. Dumb girls. Nothing pisses me off more than pretty, stupid girls who go to the gym and are in way better shape than me. Take this morning's example: dumb (and overly makeupified) RV pom carries her purse into the gym. She was seriously standing on the treadmill with her purse on her shoulder. I'm like, "What the hell," right? And then she whips out her little sidekick and starts texting, and the sound is on, and my iPod won't go up any louder, so I keep having to hear this annoying beeping, and everytime LaQuisha or whatever texts her back, I have to hear "Promiscuous Girl" all loud and it's only like three notes before she picks up and I keep hearing the same two lines OVER AND OVER AGAIN. And what really pissed me off was that the whole time, she's running like... a six minute mile without breaking a sweat, the speed of which isn't really that impressive, but which I end up looking like a panting capybara to achieve. Ugh.
2. Awkward battles for the machines. There's always that one machine that everyone is after, and today it was that one that makes your lower back hurt in the morning. So I've done all the other ones, and I'm totally ready to hit the lower back machine of doom, and I'm heading over there, and suddenly I see this guy from across the room look up and start booking it in the same direction. I speed up a little--I've been waiting for like 10 minutes now!--and the guy sees me and speeds up too, and suddenly we're standing there just staring at it. He looks at me, and I look at him, and, ever the wuss, I go "Man, it's okay, you can have it." "No really," he says, "You were here first." "Nah, I say, it's alright." So, like a total asshole, he TAKES THE MACHINE. By now I'm pissed, because I have to go stand somewhere else so I'm not a hoverer (we hate hoverers at the Y), and I'm on like my fifty-second set of calf stretcher thingies. By the time I finally got over there my lower back was sore anyway from all that craning around to see if this guy's done, and I didn't even need to do all those little twisty things.
3. Stupid macho assholes. Okay, so at the Y, you're supposed to take the little pin out of the weights when you're done with the machine, so the next person can just stick it in the little hole for whichever amount they feel they can lift without straining themselves, but there are just SOME PEOPLE who insist on leaving the stupid fly machine at 912 pounds or whatever they're lifting. Cute, asshole, I really want to stare at your gargantuan muscles while I carefully remove the pin from your gigantic pile of weights. I'm so impressed that you're so apt at channeling all that brute force. What a studly hunk of man you are, please forgive me for staring so blatantly at your package, because you are obviously such a man... NOT! Jesus Christ, asshole, take the little pin out. You're an ugly old has-been anyway; no one finds you attractive enough to chat with you in the gym over what you're benching these days. Gross.
That's pretty much it. Man... I hate the gym.
There are a few things, above all, that I despise about the gym.
1. Dumb girls. Nothing pisses me off more than pretty, stupid girls who go to the gym and are in way better shape than me. Take this morning's example: dumb (and overly makeupified) RV pom carries her purse into the gym. She was seriously standing on the treadmill with her purse on her shoulder. I'm like, "What the hell," right? And then she whips out her little sidekick and starts texting, and the sound is on, and my iPod won't go up any louder, so I keep having to hear this annoying beeping, and everytime LaQuisha or whatever texts her back, I have to hear "Promiscuous Girl" all loud and it's only like three notes before she picks up and I keep hearing the same two lines OVER AND OVER AGAIN. And what really pissed me off was that the whole time, she's running like... a six minute mile without breaking a sweat, the speed of which isn't really that impressive, but which I end up looking like a panting capybara to achieve. Ugh.
2. Awkward battles for the machines. There's always that one machine that everyone is after, and today it was that one that makes your lower back hurt in the morning. So I've done all the other ones, and I'm totally ready to hit the lower back machine of doom, and I'm heading over there, and suddenly I see this guy from across the room look up and start booking it in the same direction. I speed up a little--I've been waiting for like 10 minutes now!--and the guy sees me and speeds up too, and suddenly we're standing there just staring at it. He looks at me, and I look at him, and, ever the wuss, I go "Man, it's okay, you can have it." "No really," he says, "You were here first." "Nah, I say, it's alright." So, like a total asshole, he TAKES THE MACHINE. By now I'm pissed, because I have to go stand somewhere else so I'm not a hoverer (we hate hoverers at the Y), and I'm on like my fifty-second set of calf stretcher thingies. By the time I finally got over there my lower back was sore anyway from all that craning around to see if this guy's done, and I didn't even need to do all those little twisty things.
3. Stupid macho assholes. Okay, so at the Y, you're supposed to take the little pin out of the weights when you're done with the machine, so the next person can just stick it in the little hole for whichever amount they feel they can lift without straining themselves, but there are just SOME PEOPLE who insist on leaving the stupid fly machine at 912 pounds or whatever they're lifting. Cute, asshole, I really want to stare at your gargantuan muscles while I carefully remove the pin from your gigantic pile of weights. I'm so impressed that you're so apt at channeling all that brute force. What a studly hunk of man you are, please forgive me for staring so blatantly at your package, because you are obviously such a man... NOT! Jesus Christ, asshole, take the little pin out. You're an ugly old has-been anyway; no one finds you attractive enough to chat with you in the gym over what you're benching these days. Gross.
That's pretty much it. Man... I hate the gym.
12/26/2006
