Gym Blues

I hate the gym. I think it's one of those places I'd rather avoid unless I'm forced into going there by being held at gunpoint by Miss Universe as my gym instructor - even then I'd still be hesitant. Don't get me wrong though, I love workout. I love the sweat and calories I could be losing if I didn't favor just thinking about how much good exercise can do for me while eating popcorn on the couch instead.

Gyms suck. You're wasting energy that could be spent doing other more worthwhile activities (like work or community service). Then you'd go on socializing with other sweatwhores doing small talk and just wasting time. And it's not like you need those shaped muscles for anything. Carpentry is dead bitches. Learn something that can earn you more than minimum wage.

And then what's up with those Black Mamba babes? You know what I mean - those big chunky muscleturds who hang out in the gym all the time looking like bastard children child of a chunky piece of cornshit and a hairless gorilla, with the potential to become pro wrestlers and drag queens at the same time.

Since when did being homosexual require large body masses anyway? Did the village people convention suddenly declare fags all over the world have to be ripped like hell to be gay? The future of this trend is a scary one. Think of the world swarming with Mr.T - gay Mr. T's who'd make short work of your ass - literally.

And then they just get to you. I can live with people. I'm not one to complain outrightly. But when they start shoving their existences down your throat, that's a different ballgame already right there.

Like when your working out and they'll go near you and ask you like some beggar looking for chump change "Pare, gusto mo spot?"

A spotter, in case you dont know, is somebody who looks out for you in case you can't take the weight of your lifting load so he can catch the weight instead of you turning into a pancake.

But I thought I'd be just fine so I say "No, I'm ok thanks."

He insists "Hindi, pare okay lang. Ako bahala sayo."

I'm really okay and I'd feel even better if he's somewhere far away from me - like in Mars or something. "Thanks na lang."

But he doesnt leave and just watch there, "Spot na rin ako just in case."

That's the point where I get pissed. I went on saying, or shouting if you were there, "#@$@#*#&$@*!!! Pare, sabi nang ayaw ko ng spot eh. Treadmill to. HINDI KO KAILANGAN NG SPOT."

t(' - ' t)

This may or may not have happened in real life. But if it did, I'd probably have acted that way too.

You might think I'm just being a sick paranoid fuck by thinking about all these and then blogging it for all the internet to read/accidentally read.

Maybe.