Ok, so I don’t even want to guess why you have brown stains on the crack of your ass, but in the event that this happens, please do not do deep yoga bends, legs spread, ass in the air, directly in front of me. That is just gross.
And on the guessing part, you must have picked your butt at some point and not have been wearing any underwear. Please, no free balling at the gym. Especially in t-shirt weight light gray shorts. no. No. NO!
To the dysfunctional couple. Sitting on a treadmill is not the appropriate place to have a relationship conversation that makes you both cry. First, you make everyone else around you uncomfortable, and second, all of the treadmills are taken so get off it god damn it. I came to run and I don’t want to have you taking up precious space.
And on the guessing part, you must have picked your butt at some point and not have been wearing any underwear. Please, no free balling at the gym. Especially in t-shirt weight light gray shorts. no. No. NO!
To the dysfunctional couple. Sitting on a treadmill is not the appropriate place to have a relationship conversation that makes you both cry. First, you make everyone else around you uncomfortable, and second, all of the treadmills are taken so get off it god damn it. I came to run and I don’t want to have you taking up precious space.
To the freakishly thin girl whose sweat smells like broccoli, 1.5 hours on the elliptical machine is plenty, you sweat profusely and everyone around you wants to barf, and for crissakes, eat a damn sandwich.
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UPDATE: Shoegal, an RC fan, also works out at the same gym as DHP and had these additions to the rant (edited for length):
To the would-be he-men who think you're gaining my admiration by attempting to lift weights that are too heavy for you, grunting like a truffle pig, and then dropping them on the floor: really, I'm not impressed. I just think you're a dork. You remind me of Farmer Ted in Sixteen Candles.
To the Juicy Couture sweats-wearing cell phone queen: next time you have a half-hour conversation in the middle of my workout area, I'm going to throw the damn phone out the window. There's a reason those No Cell Phone In Gym signs are there: to prevent me from listening to your skull-crushingly boring conversation with your equally dumb friends.
To the people who steal the gossip magazines: those are there so I can read them on the elliptical without overtaxing my neural cells on the New Yorker or a fitness manual. They are chewing gum for the brain. Leave them for the idiotic enjoyment of the rest of us. Are you really too cheap to drop $1.99 on In Touch magazine?
As if I needed more reasons not to go to the gym...
Word. Unfortunately the same assholes are alowed out in public, at bars, grocery stores, restaurants. You get where I'm going with this.
Based on a recommendation from Wired, we rented Mike Judge's Idiocracy which addresses the dumbing down of the US gene pool
http://imdb.com/title/tt0387808/
Overall, I didn't like it as much as Office Space but it is Net-Flix/Library rental worthy. The first 10 minutes kinda scared the hell out of me (Thank Goodness for CreamyCrafter&RNestaM) Warning: It may cause even committed SINC crafters to consider procreatin'
And before you ask,
SINC= Single Income, No Children
DINC= Double Income, No Children
Ahhh...the joys of having a friend with a gym in their basement. Sounds like I'd have to drink before I went to a real one.
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