Yeah. I know. I've been horrible about posting lately. What can I say other than oops...sorry...my bad? So I'll try to make it up to y'all with some more letters to gym people. Yay! Aren't you excited?! I know I am! I mean really, me criticing people at the gym? Who wouldn't wanna read that?!
Umm. A workshirt? Really? How comfortable can that be? (Seriously y'all...a button-down workshirt with a name patch) I guess there's nothing really wrong with it, but dang if it didn't look weird. And please do something about the obviously itchy underwear you were wearing. I know that there are other possibilities for why you couldn't leave yourself alone, but I don't want to think about them.
So. In the future. Try a t-shirt at the gym. You'll find that you're much more comfortable and get lots less strange looks from other people. And speaking of strange looks, the itchy undies situation. Please remedy that. Or at least pick an elliptical more than one away from me when the entire line of them are empty. I was on the one at the end for a reason.
Thank you for your time,
The-girl-who-is-going-to-start-putting-"This Machine Is Broken"-signs-on-the-machines-around-her
To the Very Affectionate Couple:
Omigod y'all....get a room. No one wants to see that. I seriously thought I was gonna barf. That's the sucky thing about being on a workout machine and seeing something that makes you wanna hurl. You can run faster and faster, but you don't actually get away from anything. Like the guy in the bright red sweatpants and the bright yellow sweatshirt (yes, I'm talking to you...You looked like a hotdog) walking over to his girlfriend/wife/hooker/whatever (yes, now I'm talking to you, a bra is not a shirt) every 5 damn minutes to suck face and pat her on the butt while the girl on the elliptical (hey, now we're talking about me! in a respectable amount of clothes that don't remind me of any kind of food) is trying not to be sick.
See what you made me do? I've never seen so many parenthases in my life!
To recap: don't make out at the gym, especially when dressed as a hotdog and a stripper.
To The Hot Guy Who Doesn't Go To The Gym Enough:
Dear Hot Guy,
Please come back. I'm sorry about the drool. I promise to bring a towel next time. And maybe I'll even try not to stare as much (who am I kidding, I'll just wear my sunglasses). And even though you walk like you're pretty full of yourself, I won't judge. I mean, hell, if I looked like that I'd probably be pretty full of myself too. And hey, I could be wrong! You've just got a little bit of that Christian Bale in American Psycho thing going on. All that aside...you're pretty... ~drool~
Oops...there I go again.
"NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT"