Please pardon the interruption, but does anyone happen to have a blow torch, some duct tape and a dirty sock? We’d like to go Guantanamo Bay on a few of our newest Loopcquaintances we’ve run into at the gym lately.
You know who were talking about. The guy who transports his gallon-sized milk jug full of water to impress us with how hydrated he is. He’s just finished his seventeenth set of curls and has been grunting like a zebra in heat on mescaline and Adderall. It’s no surprise he’s acting like a Baboon given all the Alpha Male dust snorted prior to each of his weightlifting raves.
If it looks, smells, and sounds like a Baboon, you are probably at a gym ITL.
...
On another note, when the fuck did someone permit the donning of Capri pants by men at the gym? We saw you the other day, Toni and Guy. You and your clam diggers. What. The. Fuck. Are those shorts or pants? We just call them fags. Actually, never mind, because regardless of what your answer will be, it won’t change the fact that you probably wore culottes to your last White Party in Montrose. Why do we even bother covering this utter non-sense when you are oblivious to common heterosexual fashion-sense? You make Richard Simons look like Charlton Heston. If gay were a planet, you'd be Jupiter. Are you the new assistant-deputy director of Homo-land Security?
Rant over. Please disperse to go forth and mock.
4 comments:
Roar!
you must be talking about half the guys at the 24 hour fitness off of westheimer behind the all you can eat chinese buffet. uber tools who work out 7 days a week and have the jug, manpris, and jugs
I love the use of the word culottes. This can't be any worse then the guy at my gym who works out in a sports bra, yoga pants and clear plastic stripper heels. He vaguely resembles Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs.
That same guy comes to my gym suffering from scrubolepsy.
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