My Gym (again)

Joining a gym has proven quite useful, if for no other reason that it keeps giving me (boring) blog material.

The latest is this:

Naked Realtor was in the free weight room (clothed). I walk by and say "hey."

He looks at me like I was fucking scum. Motherfucker (clothed) didn't even recognize me from three days ago when he yakked my goddamned ear off (unclothed).

But that wasn't even the highlight of this workout, no the highlight was this:

Morbidly obese man wearing a weight belt to protect his back, spent thirty minutes doing one, yes one, exercise over and over and over (not that it matters but it was a tricep pulldown, which is the sort of thing you'd want to do three sets of, not three hundred).

Astonished that he was still doing it a half hour after I arrived (and lord knows how long he'd been doing it before I showed up), I happened to walk by him only to overhear him say to no one in particular "this is stupid."

Yes it is, Mr Morbidly Obese, yes it is. He's my new favorite gym character, beating out the previous favorite, cat tattoo dyke lady. Yes, I'm not the only one with a cattoo. But she's got no Ptattoo (at least that I"m aware of), so I still win.

Another actual sign posted at my gym

They've posted a follow-up sign, apparently the bandit is still around...


Attention Members:
We'd love to keep the treadmills open, but the HEALTH DEPARTMENT is making us close them down because SOMEONE keeps SHAVING, WASHING, AND DEFACATING on them. Because of this, there will no longer be treadmills to use.


Okay, it should be known, however, that I was the one who posted this sign. And it was handwritten on a paper towel.

Attention: Molly Slaggerty

So while at my gym today a man in the locker room started a conversation with me. This is the first time someone at my gym has spoken to me (and hopefully the last).

Anyway, Miss Molly, this is your fault. It was painful; he was a real estate agent.

Realtor: Hey man, how many tattoos do you have?

Me: (what? you're talking to me? fuck) ... (mumbles something incoherent)

Realtor: Yeah, I go to the shop downtown. I'm thinking of getting a big dragon.

Me: (You mean like as a tattoo, or a pet) ... (mumbles something incoherent)

Realtor: On my chest.

Me: (that doesn't answer the question) ... (mumbles something incoherent)

Then I did that thing I do where I try to drum up business for you... Hope you don't mind doodling dragons on lame dudes' boobs.

And oh yeah, he was fucking naked the entire time.

I told him to go to your website. And to put on pants.

Actual sign posted at my gym

Attention Members:
We'd love to keep the jacuzzi open, but the HEALTH DEPARTMENT is making us close it down because SOMEONE keeps SHAVING, WASHING, AND DEFACATING in it. Because of this, there will no longer be a jacuzzi to use.

Okay, so my first thought was "wow, one guy is doing all that stuff?" And my second thought was "I wonder what order he's doing these things in?"