Saturday, February 23, 2008

Da Gym

So my daily routine, after I finish a hard day at the office in bum fuck Virginia, I head into the city for my daily release: da gym.

I love going to the gym. It is a chance for me to rid myself of the various stresses in my life. No matter how shitty of a day I have, after a solid workout I always feel much better. Along with my BFF Cameron, we rock that shit out, and by the end, we are sore, tired, and dead to the world.

Now there are many different types of people who go to the gym. People such as Cameron and myself, bust it every time we go. One of the things I CAN'T STAND are those who go to the gym "for show."

Granted, we work out at a gym that is populated by about 95% gay men; to me this is annoying. When I go to workout, I go to just do that: WORK OUT. I am not here for social hour or to play a little hide the rainbow roll in the showers. I HATE people who use the gym as a social forum for hookups and to be fucking meat gazers.

How can you tell these people apart? It its really, really quite simple. Here are some tell tale signs (and examples of) that people are not at the gym for the benefits of a cardio workout, as well as a description of the various stalkers Cameron and I have accrued whilst we work out:

1) The first type is more of just a like "are you kidding me with this shit?" than stalker-ish annoyance. What do I mean? Let me explain to you the guy who was on the elliptical machine next to me yesterday, and it should be rather apparent.

So I am going to town on the elliptical machine, when I notice out of the corner of my eye, an obvious mo walking towards the machine next to me. What gave it away? The Starbucks and Apple carrying case slung over his shoulder. He proceeds to put his Starbucks in the WATER BOTTLE holder on the elliptical machine, whips out his Macbook Pro, and sets it up...ON THE FUCKING ELLIPTICAL MACHINE. Are you kidding me?

This is the best part; he then starts "exercising." So I am cruising along at like uphill mountain style resistance at 60-65 RPMs, he starts out at a modestly challenging ZERO resistance, with a full head of steam at about 30 RPMs. Now what kind of benefit are you getting from this? Really? REALLY? You mine as well be eating snacky cakes while you browse amazon.com; dumb ass.

2) Now, at least the first guy is non-threatening. This next genre of gym fag, I really really can't stand: creepy stare guy. Cameron and I have a couple of these each. This is why I am glad that 95% of the time we go to the gym together: everyone there thinks we are a couple, which is great because that deters creepy stare guys from using their misplaced confidence in themselves to approach us.

Anyway, I will speak to just one of the several creepy stare guys we have acquired, the one we have affectionately dubbed: bad hair guy. This guy CREEPS ME THE FUCK OUT. Whenever he is at the gym the same time I am, no matter where in the gym he is, he is ALWAYS staring at me when I happen to catch a glimpse of him. The few odd times we happen to make eye contact (which I try to avoid at all costs) he adds the creepy smile and eyebrow lift to complete the trifecta or uncomfortable facial features. First, he IS NOT attractive. Second, it feels like he is gazing into my soul, undressing me with his eyes, and I do not appreciate that.

3) The last guy is tight shorts homo guy. You will find him in 70's style short shorts and some form of sleeveless top, and he will spend 99% of his time doing squats or hanging out by the leg machines. Why? Do you really have to ask that question? If you don't know, I am going to virtually bitch slap you through the computer. If you want to hookup, please, please do not use my workout area for your sexcapades.

Now, sometimes you get a 2/3 combo, such as another stalker we have collected; fat tropical swimsuit guy. This guy likes to wear an assortment of Hawaiian style swimsuits that are WAY to tight to be any kind of comfortable. He also has the ability to gaze into my soul and make me feel uncomfortable, but instead of the "I want to rape you" feeling I get from bad hair guy, he surely is looking for someone to jump on it. Well, I am not a whore, and I don't do fat charity - no thanks.

Friday, December 28, 2007

Etiquette continues...

Continuing with the idea of holiday themed etiquette, I feel, especially after my flight home, I must comment on one of the greatest recurring annoyances of the holidays: Airplane travel.

It never fails. Airplane travel is one if the most irritating experiences to deal with during the holiday season. The worst part is that it doesn’t have to be. Here are some of the things that really bother me:

1) If you are too fat to fit in one seat, you should be required to buy two: Plain and simple. Despite my flight being just one hour long, it can be a very long hour when you are sandwiched between two people that clearly, CLEARLY have issues with portion control. I mean, would a little self control and maybe 20 minutes of cardio a day really kill you? And no, walking to McDonalds to get your super sized Big Mac does not count as cardio.

When buying your ticket, along with the required fields of name, address and phone number – weight should be a requirement. Its science. We do not want all the fat people concentrated in one area of the plane; it could throw off the equilibrium, thus endangering the lives of everyone on the flight.

2) Sit the fuck down, you aren’t going anywhere before I am: These people drive me up a fucking wall. You know, the guy sitting behind you - as soon as the seatbelt light goes off he springs into action to try to get that one spot in front of you even though you are in row 21 of a 22 row flight? Chill the fuck out. If you whip me with your coat sleeve one more time, I am going to shove it up your ass. Not only have I put up with you kicking my seat and playing with your fucking tray table all flight, but I was subject to hearing your pointless, inane conversations about a huntin’ and a fishin’

Realistically, you are not going to save any time by jumping that one spot. Please just be patient like everyone else – you aren’t that important.

3) Shut your kid up, seriously: Control. Your. Kids. If you can’t keep them quiet, you need to find some alternative form of transportation. I understand; a little outburst here or there, that is bound to happen – they are kids. What really irritates me is the people who have kids that are shrieking like rabid banshees the entire flight, and the parents sit there, doing nothing about it. These are the people that really shouldn’t be breeding.

4) If I want to talk to you, I will let you know: Now, I am a friendly person. But when I am tired and trying to sleep on a flight, don’t try to engage me in mindless conversation. You see that my eyes are closed. You see that I have my headphones in. I really don’t want hear about your sister’s intestinal problems or your daughter’s promiscuity issues. Sounds like you should be talking to someone a little more qualified than I am about these things. Good luck with that, now shut the fuck up and let me sleep.

Again, if we all would just be a little courteous and aware of our surroundings, experiences like this would be much more enjoyable. THANKS.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Proper Mall Etiquette

So, everyday for lunch, I walk over to the Subway in Tysons Corner Mall. It gives me a chance to get out of the office, stretch my legs, and get a little exercise in the middle of an otherwise dormant day in my cube. I usually look forward to this daily adventure, but of late, it has been more of an irritating experience.

With the approaching holiday season, I have become painfully aware that people either:

1) Have no understanding of proper mall etiquette.

2) Simply don’t care that they are obnoxious cunt monkeys.

Now, I understand: it’s the holiday season. People are bustling to and fro buying hundreds of dollars in shitty gifts that will be returned at a later date for the cash (or if you are footlocker, store credit – bitches) they should have just given in the first place. But really – is there a need to be such a raging lunatic? Here are some of the things that drive me crazy:

1) Follow the flow of fucking traffic: There is a divide for a reason people, lets use it. This mall is designed to have a continuous, circular flow of travel. It’s a very basic concept: follow the flow of traffic and upon reaching your destination, make your exit. There is no reason to bob in an out of oncoming stroller moms and geriatric grandparents (who are to busy glowing about the $99 dollar value perfume set from CVS for $19.99 they got for their granddaughter to pay attention) coming at you like whoa.

2) Pick up the pace stupid ass: Please, by all means, meander in and out of mall walking traffic at a glacial pace, looking around as if you are a lost little child. If you don’t know where the fuck you are going or what you are looking for step to one of the many conveniently located medians where you can look at a directory – assuming you can read it you dumb cunt.

3) Stop using your children as bulldozers/shields: Ow, OW, OWWWW - step off betch. Stop hitting me with your fucking stroller in my heels, its not going to make me move faster. In fact you are just going to pis me off. You think when I turn around and I see little Jimmy and Sally in your stroller that I am going to be all “oh, its ok don’t worry about it.”

Sorry –not happening.

It concerns me that you would use something as precious as your child to shave 5 seconds off your shopping trip for the shitty gifts that your kids will be sick of in 4 days anyways. Next time you hit my heels, I am going to turn around and kick you in your heels – and you can tell me how it feels. As an aside – please stop talking to your kids all cutesy trying to show them off; I really, really, could give a shit. Maybe if you stopped doing that you wouldn’t be nipping at my heels to save time anyway.

4) If you stop in front of me - I will mow you down, and cut you: It seems to me the group most often guilty of this offense are gaggles of sorositiutes (sorority prostitutes). You can usually avoid running into these over tanned, hair abusive biotches even if they stop. This is due to the brightly colored pink sweatpants they are wearing with the sorority letters brandied across the buttocks. 99.9% of the time there are fuggs (fucking ugly uggs boots), some kind of matching hoodie, and a headband involved as well. The bright colors along with the pointless conversation you are sure to hear and the odious smell of bath and body works lotions as you approach is usually enough to evade even the most abrupt stoppers.

4) If you don’t get to the standing side of the escalator – I will get uncomfortably close to your personal space: People. Please. One side is for standing, one side is for walking. How difficult is that. Granted, if you are fat enough to take up both sides, you should be taking the elevator for my safety and your own in the first place. I don't want one of your cankles to collapse and have you roll over me as I patiently wait for you to get to the top. Those of you who are capable of moving to the side, I suggest you do so. Otherwise I will push up on you and make you feel extremely uncomfortable by invading your personal bubble using a combination of burps, farts, and rambling gibberish.

All in all, if we all pay a little attention to what we are doing, all of these issues can be avoided. For your sake and mine, let’s start today, ok? THANKS