Uh. The rec center was so busy. I suppose it was my fault for going at 4PM though. The new rec is like a spaceship, but I wish that instead of spending a million dollars to plaster every vertical surface with 3 foot plasma TVs, (in which to blast me with bad rap alternated with gawd-awful rap) they would have just put in twice as many machines. The only thing I value is my time.
Filled to the brim with pretty boys who were all e.nor.mous tools. (Read: “I am Carson Daly and I’m a massive tool.”) What straight man gels his hair, spritzes cologne, and dons the perfect shoulder-revealing cut-off shirt to go the gym to work out with other guys? I mean seriously. Why are you sitting on a machine for 10 minutes at a time (not doing a single rep) with the look on your face of, “Hm. I wonder how gay I can look and dress without actually doing guys?” I just wanted to shout, “You don’t realize yet, but all of you, yes all of you, secretly love cock.”
I guess I am spoiled. My mental image of a hetero man is my Dad. Working out in the same unfashionable non-descript gym clothes for 15+ years, having a hairy chest, and a medium sized bald spot that didn’t bother him one bit. Even though he could bench press 300+ lbs plus, he never took off his shirt—even in 100۫ weather. He could kick just about any of the student’s asses that ever set foot in the gym (including most of the football players—which most seasons, wasn’t saying much).