Welcome to a personal rant. I don't care that this looks like a Buzzfeed listicle, because I've got a bone to pick and my opinions matter the most.
Here are the five types at my gym that I wish would instantly disappear, leaving only me and the other swole gods, and a bunch of hot girls.
1) Projectile Sweaters
These dudes (they're always male) are usually the size of a refrigerator, have a towel draped uselessly around their necks, and in addition to spraying their nasty sweat everywhere, like to drink water by pouring into their mouths from a distance and getting at least half of it on the weight rack. Bonus point for rocket body hair that ends up on me from ten feet away.
2) Dumb Instagram Bitches
Maybe you're a 10. If you're an actual 10, spend all the time posing and twerking in front of the weight rack you want, honey. But more likely, you're a 5 with a doomed New Year's Resolution. Get the fuck away from the mirror, I need it to admire my own perfect form.
Erik thinks we're friends because, for a while, we would spot each other on the bench without speaking. He had to fucking ruin it by asking me to come with him to his brother's DJ night at a club in Jersey.
4) Cardio Boy-Men
These 115-pound lightweights spend two hours on the treadmill everyday in the winter but aren't willing to work in a god damn 5 minute lifting set. These are grown men wearing women's headbands, for god's sake. If you need a headband, you need a haircut (and a shrink for your gender issues). Your marathon shirt from 2014 smells like shit. Go to Central Park and run from the hobos at night. Leave the cardio machines for the old people trying to stave off death for one more day.
I bring performance-enhancing drugs (and other substances) to the gym. Obviously a flask of Woodford and Creatine is coming with me, as is my little bottle of pre-workout with a few drops of liquid molly, on occasion. My workout is my business. My life is my business. However, some nosy motherfuckers (probably the 80something widow with an idiotic amount of money who lives on my new floor) have made it their business too, and now the gym manager - a tightwad bitch who glares at everyone while they exercise, who, because this is a "boutique" gym with "elite" clientele, probably gets paid almost a quarter of what I make to basically wipe jizz out of the shower - has eyes all over me, and not in a way like she wants to fuck me (though I definitely could/would bang).
Mod Note (Andy): top 50 posts of 2017, this one ranks #42 (based on # of silver bananas)
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