I hate every single moment of going to the gym, except for the very last, when Iβm leaving, because thatβs when I know I am the farthest moment in time away I can possibly be from having to come back there.
I donβt really understand working out. When Iβm in there, all I can think is, what the fuck am I doing right now? What are any of us doing here? Are we training to be Spartans? Are we preparing for the next 300 battle? SOMEBODY ANSWER ME AND LEND ME A SWORD! SPAAAAAAARTAAAAAAA!
I was never really trained how to work out, so I usually just go in there, lift a bunch of weights up and down over my head a few times like a good monkey and then I do a little cardio. You gotta do a little cardio, thatβs what everyone says. You tell someone you work out, they ask you, βDo you do any cardio?β And I say, βYeah, I do a little cardio.β
Iβm the asshole who uses the Ellipses or NordicTrack, whatever the fuck you call it. Let me tell you something, when I get going on that thing, the synchronized arm and leg movement makes every woman in the room simultaneously want to fuck me. But can you blame them? Minus the snow, I look exactly like an Olympic skier.
Gotta love the women who can read full novels while theyβre on those machines. Thatβs how you know youβre getting a good workout in, when youβre going 1 mph on a treadmill and youβve burned through fifteen magazines, while youβre sucking down a Java Chiller Frappuccino from Starbucks. These ladies would burn more calories by simply lying down.
Iβll jump on a treadmill every once in awhile. Itβs a great way to meditate, a way to forget about everything else thatβs going on in my life β all the stress, whateverβs bothering me β and focus my mind on one simple idea that I just keep repeating to myself over and over again, which is βwhen the fuck is this going to end?β
βI hate this, I hate this, I hate this. Why am I doing this?β And why the hell is this goddamn timer moving so slowly? Move faster! AndalΓ©! Every second feels like a minute. This machineβs gotta be broken. Maybe I should just cover the screen with a towel, if I canβt see the timer I wonβt focus on it. Great idea. I cover it up and keep moving. After a short while, I realize that I have lost all sense of time and being. My entire concept of time has gone out the window. Β I have no idea if Iβve been running for five minutes or five hours. Did I have a beard when I got on this thing?
I decide to take a peak under the towel, see how much time I have left. I could be finished for all I know. But then again, I could have just begunβ¦I donβt know, should I do it? Itβll kill me if I have a lot of time left. Fuck it, Iβll compromise — Iβm checking thirty seconds.
Four minutes, thirty-one seconds. Thatβs how long Iβve been running, not what I have left. I convinced myself to do ten minutes. But I canβt quit now, this is bigger than you, Steve, this is bigger than the gym. If you quit here, it means youβll quit out there, in the real world. Push it! You can do it buddy. You can do it! Okay, itβs been a little while, letβs check againβ¦.
The gym I work out at in Hollywood smells like one giant set of man balls. So whenever I donβt feel like going, I just put my underwear over my head and run a bunch of laps around my house. But the coolest thing about LA Fitness, centered in the music capitol of the world, is definitely the house DJ, whoever picks the music. That 49-year old spinster is totally tapped into whatβs hot right now. Here are three tracks that were actually played (in a row) at my gym on a Saturday during the busiest time of day:
βHey, you know, you shouldnβt arch your back like that when youβre pulling the bars down.β
βOh, really? Because my last trainer told me that you shouldnβt open your fuckin mouth to people who donβt give a shit about how theyβre doing it in the first place because maybe theyβre just trying to get the fuck out of here as fast as they can so they can get back to their real life.β
Exercising is for gay people. Literally gay people love working out. I mean that in the straightest way possible. Itβs kind of tough to tell whoβs gay at the gym though and whose not, so I usually just assume that everyone is. And thatβs why I make no eye contact with people and walk with a limp and have people spread rumors about me that Iβm HIV positive. βRumors.β
One way to tell for sure though is if you are using the steam room alone, standing there on the first step naked minding your own business and another guy comes in and sits down right next to you so that his face is 12 inches away from your penis which is 4 inches away from your body and he decides to start exhaling directly onto your penis. Thatβs how you can tell. When a guy starts blowing on your penis, itβs safe for you to assume that heβs gay. And that you just received a blowjob from him in the steam room.
Sometimes I think about changing gyms, but I donβt know. I guess the only thing stopping me is I donβt want to pay that bullshit initiation fee or go on another one of those mandatory fuckin tours after signing up. Why do they make you do that? Like Iβm some fuckin Sioux Indian whoβs never been to a gym before:
1.)Β You know those people who wear those Bluetooth things in their ears while theyβre working out? I want to drop a 45-pound dumbbell on their heads. When the hell are those things going to go out of style / give everyone using them cancer?