I've been doing a little fitness routine that includes yoga a couple days a week, some weight lifting, and varied fitness classes. It's all been pretty enjoyable, and now before I hop in the shower I check out my hot, hot bod, mentally high-five myself, and do a sexy dance. My dogs stare in wonderment and/or horror.
Please, someone, make it stop.
Unfortunately, the world is full of unsavory people, and my gym has not yet figured a way to keep out the ones that suck my life force.
Such as:
The Weight Room Caveman
Um, yeaaaaah. How do I put this? You need to stop making sex sounds while you work out. You're making everyone uncomfortable.
Such as:
The Weight Room Caveman
Um, yeaaaaah. How do I put this? You need to stop making sex sounds while you work out. You're making everyone uncomfortable.
UGH UGH UGH, OH GOD, OH YEAH, OH YEAAAAAAH
It doesn't help that you generally have another guy spotting you, and that somehow, his crotch is abnormally close to your face. Oddly, these same actions don't bother me at all at a gay bar. So gentlemen: GET THE TO A GAY BAR. Where grunting and grinding is not only welcome, but expected.
Oh- and khakis/jeans aren't appropriate in a gym. Buy some fucking gym shorts.
Oh- and khakis/jeans aren't appropriate in a gym. Buy some fucking gym shorts.
The Yoga Masters
When I first started doing the yoga thing, I HATED these people in class. You know- the ones that are slightly ahead of the curve and can do more advanced poses than everyone else, usually with a cool, collected look on their face.
"Lets see, I need to get milk and eggs at the store...now what was I doing? Oh right, Salamba Sirsasana pose. No big deal."
Now, I say I *used* to hate these people because I have become one, and self-hate is hard when you're JUST THIS AWESOME. You get me anywhere near a class where I'm one of the most advanced and you better believe that I'm going to be whipping out some Adho Mukha Vrksasana or the mermaid variation of Eka Pada Rajakapotasana. I will do a lunge-into-handstand-into-backbend-into-tree pose and fucking YAWN at the end. I'm that asshole. Sorry, everyone.
Oh, but if you're better than me and show me up, you're pretty much a dick.
Moving on to my least favorite of the work-out brigade.
Fitness Class Cheerleaders
Now, I understand that there will be peppy mo-fos in some classes. I mean, if I was doing some step aerobics, I'd probably expect someone with an extra-high ponytail and leg warmers to shout out motivational nonsense.
HOWEVER
When I'm doing a class that involves barbells, bands, and various other forms of torture, there should be NO chipper outbursts in my vicinity.
My class on Wednesdays involves a lot of lifting weights, and an instructor that I am 87% sure is a Nazi sympathizer. She is a tiny muscly blonde woman who varies between shouting out repetition counts and yelling vague threats when you're caught resting. She also enjoys shouting things like, Y'ALL WANNA DO ONE MORE SET?!? DOES SILENCE MEAN YES???
Ok, lady:
A) No. Silence doesn't fucking mean "yes." Silence means that we are all so tired that we can't breathe, much less respond to you, you crazy ho-bag.
B) There is always that one a-hole who is all WOOO! YES! COME ON GUYS! LET'S DO IT!
Oh, but if you're better than me and show me up, you're pretty much a dick.
Moving on to my least favorite of the work-out brigade.
Fitness Class Cheerleaders
Now, I understand that there will be peppy mo-fos in some classes. I mean, if I was doing some step aerobics, I'd probably expect someone with an extra-high ponytail and leg warmers to shout out motivational nonsense.
HOWEVER
When I'm doing a class that involves barbells, bands, and various other forms of torture, there should be NO chipper outbursts in my vicinity.
My class on Wednesdays involves a lot of lifting weights, and an instructor that I am 87% sure is a Nazi sympathizer. She is a tiny muscly blonde woman who varies between shouting out repetition counts and yelling vague threats when you're caught resting. She also enjoys shouting things like, Y'ALL WANNA DO ONE MORE SET?!? DOES SILENCE MEAN YES???
Ok, lady:
A) No. Silence doesn't fucking mean "yes." Silence means that we are all so tired that we can't breathe, much less respond to you, you crazy ho-bag.
B) There is always that one a-hole who is all WOOO! YES! COME ON GUYS! LET'S DO IT!
Somebody shut her up. I'm 'bout to cut a bitch.
Although I think it is my profound hate of this person that fuels me with the rage necessary to push through the rest of that class, soooo....thanks, ^@*#bag. I guess.
But if you break an ankle *accidentally* tripping over my foot I'm not exactly going to cry about it.
Alas, the things we must endure for physical perfection. That, and the ability to eat an entire pizza in one sitting.
But if you break an ankle *accidentally* tripping over my foot I'm not exactly going to cry about it.
Alas, the things we must endure for physical perfection. That, and the ability to eat an entire pizza in one sitting.
RSS Feed