Get the fuck out of my gym, Hollywood. - April 24, 2007

(Reconditioning Batteries)

A few hours ago, I threw my dingy workout clothes on and sauntered down to the gym in my apartment complex for my daily self-inflicted ass kicking. I opened the door to find two people already in the 20' by 20' sweat box, which was a little off because I try to time my visits downstairs so that I won't feel crowded while I perspire and grunt the booze and cigarettes out of me. If anything, I go to the gym to break even.

Not thinking anything of it, I climbed onto the treadmill to clack out a few miles before I hit the weights, just like I do every day. As I was running, I could see a man and woman using the other equipment through the mirrored wall in front of me. The man was wearing brand new, expensive workout clothes. He was perched on the sit-up bench with a cell phone to his ear, blabbing away about something useless, while executing a crunch every 45 seconds at best. The woman sat at the butterfly press section of the universal gym and flipped through songs on her chrome iPod the entire time, without ever attempting to actually exercise.

I'm not sure why it bothered me so much, but with every mile I completed, I had more and more contempt for the people in the mirror. I couldn't understand why anyone would spend a bunch of money on clothes they were just going to scuzz up with body funk, and I definitely couldn't understand why they would even bother going to the gym if they weren't going to put any effort into working out. I started thinking that these people just wanted to be seen in the gym; to give the air of athleticism to those that might pass by. Just as this thought crossed my mind, the man on the sit-up bench reached down and started flipping though a stack of mail. The fucking guy was reading his mail in the gym. Wearing weightlifting gloves.

By mile three, I usually look like I need to be wrapped in one of those silver NASA thermal blankets at the end of the Boston Marathon, and today was no exception. Luckily, there is a set of fans on the control panel of my favorite treadmill, which I set on high in the hopes of coolinga me down so that I might be able to squeak out one more mile before my heart exploded.

That's when I farted.

It was awful. For a second, I almost thought I shit my board shorts. It must have lasted 20 seconds. I didn't even break stride, I just kept running, hoping that I wasn't going to have a serious stomach issue that was going to keep me from drinking beer later.

The fart wafted through my board shorts and into the twin, high-powered cooling fans on the treadmill, blasting it at the two people behind me. All I could do was look in the mirror and watch the smug faces of the man and woman turn sour. It was awesome. The entire room smelled like New Orleans.

The guy grabbed his mail and immediately bolted for the door. The woman, who was making a face like she had just been punched in the vagina by a guy holding a plugged-in iron, held on for a few more seconds before screaming "JESUS CHRIST!" loud enough for me to hear her through my headphones before she stormed out, leaving me to finish my workout session in peace.

Posted by KungFu Mike at 9:32 PM

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F*ck yeah! The Village Killer emerges in gaseous form! You totally owned those two f*cktards. I'm glad because people like that piss me off when I'm trying to get my workout on. Sweet story bro.

Posted by: Wayland at April 25, 2007 12:33 PM

Nicely done.

Posted by: aL at April 25, 2007 04:38 PM


Posted by: Anonymous at April 25, 2007 04:46 PM


Posted by: DaveJ at April 25, 2007 07:02 PM

That's pretty Fuckin' Metal

Posted by: Twilight Ninja at April 26, 2007 05:23 AM

You should come move down to hermosa, at least you dont have to cut thorough the air of pretentiousness with a knife like you do in H-wood...

Posted by: Matt at April 26, 2007 04:21 PM

Nice one.
It's not a workout unless you're leaving sweat stains on the floor when you're leaving, right?

Btw: (I know it's ot, so fucking what?) regarding your new pics on MySpace - you look so damn HOT in that pinstripe suit, it might even beat the hair metal outfit. And thumbs up for the Arch Enemy shirt, Angela Gossow is one of my personal heroes.

Posted by: Eva at April 27, 2007 03:27 PM

holy shit!! No WAY! you actually farted in public and upset some people??? dude, that's never been done before. amazing

Posted by: Joe Brighenti at May 22, 2007 12:38 AM

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