âThe Sink Is Not a Place to Wash your BALLS"
Welcome, to my day at the gym.
It’s Thursday. 5 PM.
I start off with a jog on the treadmill. I hate this thing. I run and run, yet I can’t get away. If I end up in hell this thing will most definitely be there.
To my left there’s a guy who keeps clearing his throat “Uhhhh-Hummmm”!!! Every thirty seconds this fucker adjusts his mucus ball over and over again. I wish he would just spit it out; he’s really pissing me off.
To my right there’s some crazy bastard running like he just downed two lines of Crystal Meth.
I decide to leave these two alone. I was supposed to do ten minutes, but I cut it to five.
Upstairs I go to the stretch area. I like to do about 3 minutes of stretching before I work out, so here I am, stretchin’ those pecs.
The thing is I’m not too fond of stretching, my Gym teacher would say, “strechin’ is for pussies”, hmmmmm…maybe she was right, then again, she got fired for trying to get some student pussy.
I continue to stretch.
A few feet behind me sits the Spanish janitor. He sits in a corner and just stares at me. He stares at everyone. I guess we all need a hobby.
Next to him there’s this old black lady listening to her headphones and singing, “Whoomp there it is!” She’s snapping her fingers and bobbin her head, she loves this God forsaken song and lets everyone know. She’s way too happy.
I cut my stretch down to 2 minutes, my gym teacher was right.
The gyms packed. I hate it when it’s packed, but that’s the price you pay when you go at 5 pm.
I lie on the flat bench and begin my set.
Quickly, some guy tells me my shorts are on backwards. And he’s right. My shorts are on backwards. I feel slightly intruded on and stupid, the fucking nerve of this guy. What a dick. And what the hell is he doing looking at my dick, fucking dick.
The dick walks away, but luckily he left his energy drink behind. I “accidentally” kick it over and it spills everywhere. I smile for the first time today.
I decide to walk to the other side of the gym. Suddenly, I notice the “talker” is here; he’s the guy who talks to whomever will listen. Every gym has one and for some reason these “talker” guys love me.
I see him coming and make a quick right turn and then a left, but this fucker is persistent, he chases me, literally. I’m cornered at the cable-pulley machines. There’s no escaping.
Self absorbed as ever he rambles on for a good ten minutes about the food poisoning he had last night. I fight to get in these 9 words…really, corn, ouch, baby, wipes, help, please, stop, talking…He hears nothing.
Luckily, I know how to deal with this situation. It’s easy; you see I include some unsuspecting victim into the conversation and pawn him off on the talker. I escape.
I sit down at a shoulder machine.
Directly across from me a woman works the inside of her thighs. She wears tight pants and I now understand what the term “camel toe” means. If there were a heaven this machine would be there and so wouldn’t she. I find myself staring.
Damn it. I’m turning into the Spanish Janitor. Quickly, I move.
The next 45 minutes are a blur highlighted by…some dickhead talking on his phone while he hogs the incline bench, a gay guy who keeps trying to make eye contact with me, and a heated argument from two meatheads “I have dis bench first bro” “No, no, I have dis bench first bro”!
I hope for a fight, but nothing, they make their peace, grab their gallons of water and walk away. Pussies.
It’s time for the locker room. I have to piss.
This place is my personal hell, it’s ten times worse than the treadmill.
I walk into to see a few guys walking around naked and just chatting it up like they don’t have a care in the world. Men should not talk to each other when they’re naked, ever.
I find the urinal and piss. Next to me another man pisses. I hate that.
I wash my hands in the sink. Promptly some old bastard next to me plops his foot in the sink. He starts scrubbing his knobby old man toes. On my other side some naked man sets his balls in the sink. He trims his pubes.
The gym is an evil place, I look forward to the day I can by my own equipment and work out at my house.
this is in or around Ballys Santa Monica