September 15, 2006

At The Gym Some More

At The Gym Some More
(i.e. More "Thoughts On The Treadmill" and then some.)

Inner Monologue on the Treadmill:

This treadmill isn't so bad, it has a good view of the television. Unless of course someone takes the treadmill right in front of-- and there it is. Oh well, I have my iPod for a reason. And this chick does have a really nice ass. They're like two cantaloupes hanging out next to each other. I love cantaloupes, especially that Filipino melon drink. Wow, her ass really does look like two cantaloupes. I should probably stop staring in case she turns around. Oh, what do I care. She blocked Sportscenter. The least she could do is let me stare at her ass until I'm finished on this Instrument of Hell. I like how it seems like I'm jammin' to some hip-hop song but really it's "I'm Blue" by Eiffel 65. If they only knew. Hey there's my fake Gym Boyfriend walking in. And he's not wearing a hat this time, oh good. I never get to see his face. He needs to lose the shell necklace though. Those are awful. Why do men wear those. It's not cute. How many minutes have I been on this thing, it must be at least 20... 5. Five??? Five freaking minutes??? This sucks. I hate the gym.

Inner Monologue at the "Body Sculpting" Class:

I didn't bring my very own what are those called... Yoga mat. Speaking of which, how does yoga even help tone anything, don't you just lay on a mat and breathe for awhile? Like those overweight movie stars that say they lost 60 lbs due to yoga. Rooooiiiiiiiighht. Hey, focus, focus! I don't have a mat. Okay they have ones you can borrow, eeew, let's not think about how many dirty people have sweated all over this thing after a long day at work. It's not like YOU just took a bath. You dirtball. Okay focus, we're about to begin "Body Sculpting." What are they going to sculpt me with anyway, a chisel? HA HA HA! Damn that joke was so stupid and yet I cracked myself up. Now people are looking at me, they think I'm "The Crazy Girl At The Gym." So what bitches, turn back around and keep watching yourself in the mirror and lifting weights. Do I have to do everything around here.

Well, that wasn't so bad. I kind of jammed through the first half. WOO-HOO what's next! I rock, I rock... oh fuck. The instructor wants us to grab the "Swedish Balls." Oh please let that mean some hot Stefan Edberg-y guy is standing around here naked. Or that someone just got take-out from IKEA. Please don't let it be that big bouncy ball of torture. Dammit, yes there it is. I hate these things. Okay for the first exercise we're going to balance on top of the ball and push our legs to the ceiling with our hips. What??? Why don't we start with something easier, like sitting on the ball and clapping our hands or something. Fuck. Five bucks say I fall off my ball first. Yes, I win. Another five bucks says I'm the only one in this class of smarmy people that does. Yes, I win again. I hate the gym.

Inner Monologue on the Nautilus Machines:

Let's start with my favorite machine, just because it gives me time to think about which one I'll use next. Remember, low weights high reps. That will tone me up without making me all bulgy. Like that woman. Oooh look, her and her friends are eyeballing how much weight I'm using. Hey! 30 lbs is respectable, low weights high reps you bitches. Then I won't look like you, all fucking Mrs. Schwarzeneggers. No wait, that's Maria Shriver and she's girly. Well, you know what I mean, you bulgy muscular freaks. Keep walking. Yeah, that's right, I'm straight. And what!!! Straight people go to the gym too you know. Damn, they left. Now what am I going to look at. Well lookee-here who just sat down at the pull-y thing in front of me. It's my hot fake Gym Boyfriend. Hoo-waaah, that is one nice body. Look at those arms. Perfection. Look at that back, beautiful. Look at... Oh no. Dammit, I knew it. His face is all messed up. Well there it is, proof that there is no God, or if there is one he's really mean. No benevolent God would put a face like that on a body like that. It's just cruel. Oh good, my reps are over. Time for a new machine.

Hey it's Useless Gym Girl! I'm so happy! Let's see, okay her boyfriend is telling her where he's going to be and what he's going to be doing. Will she be okay by herself? Will she? Will she? Yes! Apparently she will. And now she's going over to the knee side to side machine and putting it at the lowest weight. Side to side four times... wait where are you going? Must not have liked that machine, going to the butterfly one. Lowest weight... four times. Wait, she's getting up again. What's going on here. Oh my Lord she's going to use every single machine in here at the lowest weight four times and then leave. She really does live up to her name. She didn't touch the anal pron machine though. I don't blame her. Geo makes fun but I don't use the anal pron machine unless he's around. Someone might poke me. "No one will poke you Riss," Geo says. Yes, they just might. Because I'm on my hands and knees with my ass in the air and when I see people do that I feel like poking them. "If someone pokes you it will be me." Well then that's why I need you in front of me to make sure people don't poke me, and to make sure you don't poke me either.

Alrighty then, last machine. Okay I need to take my mind off how boring this is. So what does this thing do? Ahh, I am working out my trapezius and my rhomboids. Those lazy rhomboids! Think they can just sit around eating bon-bons on the couch and watching "Montel" all day. You have to stay on top of them or they don't do their jobs. And that trapezius, once I caught him drinking milk out of the gallon container just so he wouldn't have to wash a cup. Take this you lazy ass punk! And this! And this! And this! Okay, high reps suck. I hate the gym.

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