So yesterday I got all introspective and thankful and happy, counting my blessings despite the nasty weather outside. What I FAILED to mention was the dark side of the tropical storms’ effects.
No, no… not flooding or fallen limbs, no damaged roofs or wind-blown chaos. The damage I speak of is a by-product of horrible weather. The horror I share is that which happens when tropical storms drive me indoors for workouts. The horror of … The Dunwoody L.A. Fitness. [If that name brings no ire of fear in your very being, please refer to a previous post of mine - An Open Letter to L.A. Fitness.]
But ooooohhhh… the Dunwoody L.A. Fitness. A place where stench and douchebags come together in a fit of explosive ridiculousness. A place that, genetically speaking, is 90% devoid of that which is good. A place that steals your innocence with more nipple sightings than people, and more plastic than real body parts. A place where meatheads abound and bimbos rule. A place my friends, which I shall never wish upon you.
Example #1
Innocently putting my bag into a locker for safe keeping thrusts me deep into sweaty, somewhat hairy, cleavage, as some lady deems it necesary to take up 10 ft of space to change her bra post workout.
Example #2
Working out my rear deltoid places me on a machine next to someone discussing his injured pectoral muscle. And why pray tell, is it injured? Well thanks to him discussing the topic so loudly with his friends, I now know that said injury occurred while he was slapping his wife’s ass during sex. Vomit. I no longer even want deltoids.
Example #3
Waiting in line for a treadmill (yes.. WAITING IN LINE at a GYM to WORKOUT) forces me in the middle of a heated argument between meathead #1, meathead #2, and bimbo (who apparently belongs to one meathead and was hit on by the other). Oddly, the argument quickly turned from what you might assume – “don’t hit on my girl, she’s taken” – to a weird testerone induced twilight zone. The meatheads decided that whomever could benchpress the most would win the honor of dragging bimbo into the sunset.
First of all… WHERE am I? Second of all… do wonders never cease?
Please pray that tomorrow brings sunshine for outdoor workouts, and Santa brings Lauren a new gym for Christmas.
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In the spirit of crazy, I share with you a quote brought to my attention by my friend Justine…
”In Canada, a severed human foot was found washed up on shore wearing a Nike running shoe. Nike says it’s all part of their new campaign, ‘Just Do It…or Else.”
…Conan O’Brien…


