McGriddle Pants on going to the gym...
After having belonged to many gyms, I'm used to the grunting/heaving/sighing weird noises coming from the weight lifting area. Who can forget the Jersey Shore like "WHAAAAAT!?" dude from My New Haircut. However, I am not okay with the moaning noises coming from that area last week. I swear to ba-Jesus that it sounded like someone was having sex. Uuggghhhhh. Uuugggghhhhhhhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhh. Uuughhhh. Gross! Stop that shit!
You there! 6' tall, stick-figure super model look alike, 20 year old girl!! Ya you, in skin tight pants and top. Get out of the gym! If I wanted to feel bad about myself I'd sit at home and watch America's Next Top Model. I don't need to see this shit at the gym. Go home and eat a bag of Doritos!
Never, ever go to the gym when the trainer is doing his own work out. It will make you really feel like complete shit about yourself and your own work out. He was balancing, and stretching, and lifting all over the place. Then he gets on the tread mill next to me and starts jogging backwards. I seriously couldn't help but secretly hope that he trips and falls. Showoff.
WHY IS THE FOOD NETWORK ALWAYS ON?! Seriously. When trying to be good with your diet, and on minute 47 pounding away on the treadmill, why oh why is Paula Dean on the TV making some fatty, buttery deep-fried dish y'all?
In the mean time I'm enjoying my new black Columbia fleece pants that I picked up from the outlet mall at the beach. As my friend Adri says, they "reek of unemployment!" I love it.
Mr. Man and myself catching up on some Dexter. I love that too.