Several $12 martinis or a monthly gym membership

It’s common knowledge that skeezy men and tasteless  women all over the world go to bars to pick up/get picked up at some point in the week. As a member of the service industry, I’ve witnessed first hand the grotesque rituals attached to such practices and their tragic consequences. However, a new meeting ground has raised its ugly head on the breeding grounds of douche bags and loose women: The gym.

Did I ask for this? I just wanted a drink...

Perhaps this breeding ground isn’t so new after all. I remember my folks ditching Bally’s after too many people tried to pick up my then 20s something Father (go dad!). While the gym has been offering a different medium for foul pick up lines and women wearing waaaay too much make up to be on an elliptical machine, I can’t help but wonder: Where did everyone go so dreadfully wrong? When I trek over to my gym, Gold’s, the last thing I want is to be thrown some lame ass one-liner. I’m not here to speak with you, I want to repent for what I drank/ate last night, you tool. In the defense of overly tan juicers everywhere, I can somewhat understand your reasoning for prowling around the exercise floor. Women who are in the gym probably take care of themselves; this is a perfectly justified assumption since we pulled our carcases outta bed to pay homage to the tread mill. But on the other hand, I’m sweating and I am hacking up a lung – how is this attractive?

“You should exhale when you pull that towards you,” offered a gray-hair “gentleman” who was sporting a sweat band and a cut off T-shirt. He was motioning to the lat-pull machine I was using. Until a moment ago, I had been “in the zone”. Now I’m just annoyed. Please note, kind reader, that I always have my Ipod ear buds on my head regardless of whether or not the device is changed and or working. I don’t wanna be disturbed.

Duuuuude! Broooosef!

I’ve had men come up and stretch in front of my elliptical machine in the most disturbing ways imaginable. Nevermind that just steps away from where I am is a stretching room specifically designed for fowl stretching. I don’t need your ass in my face as I’m struggling to complete my exercises and I really don’t want you to change in front of me… OMG!! STOP STOP STOP! I’ve literally had to change machines to get away from this lunacy.

So please, men of Boston, refrain from coming on to women who clearly are at the gym for its designed purpose: TO WORK OUT. For the crazy, self-absorbed bitches who did their make up specifically for a 10am work out, make good use of your morning routine and push your ass in front of these crazy men before they bother those of us trying to lose some pounds. Do I make myself clear?

I can amuse myself, don't worry about me.

Ergo, the dreadful mating ritual that men and women partake in at both the bar and the gym. Both dances are foolish and embarrass those who are subjected to watching. I don’t care for either practice. I just want to drink my $12 martini at the bar and I just want to repent at the gym the next morning. Nothing more, please leave me the F alone. Thank you.


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2 Responses to “Several $12 martinis or a monthly gym membership”

  1. 10 Things That I Judge about You « Lersif Says:

    […] on the day’s colors. This section is not directed towards you. I’m talking about the Jersey Shore ladies who stroll in to the gym at 8am on a Wednesday dolled up to the nines. Boobs are everywhere, bright […]

  2. Lorri Says:

    Howdy! This blog post could not be written much better!
    Going through this post reminds me of my previous roommate!
    He continually kept talking about this. I will send this article to him.
    Pretty sure he will have a very good read.

    Thank you for sharing!

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