Going to the gym is like making love to a wet poodle; you want to get in, get out, and make sure your hair isn’t too frizzy when you leave. Any setbacks just throw off your game, leaving you to think about why you came in the first place. So, you can imagine our malaise when some uncertified meathead in an Ed Hardy leotard interrupts our last set of cagles to offer some unsolicited advice about how our uterine wall would be tighter if we just extended our knees 27 degrees to the right.
Thanks Impromptu Gym Trainer. We’ll be sure to make that adjustment next time we’re working out alone and you aren’t rubbing our asses under the guise of selfless exercise tips. Speaking of which, where do you find the time for such altruistic behavior with all your neck shrinking, headbutting tournaments and lighter fluid chugging contests? Your time management skills rival those of Tiger Woods at an all-you-can-eat prostitute buffet. Bravo friend, bravo.
Should you find yourself being approached by a 235 lb ball of Dippity Doo in the middle of your reverse lunges, make like the lady in this photograph: accept his advice willingly and lay a silent crop duster as he positions himself between your thighs. And if you can’t muster the anal strength after all those cagles, you can always suggest he become a member of Crunch’s elbow-drop location. Membership is free and they don’t mind if you bleed in the showers!
