Boston’s arctic blast has passed. While I always prefer cold weather over a humid hell, that was just too damn cold. Maybe it’s just because the cold reveals my laziness. Having to be so bundled up requires so much effort. It really affects my desire to exit my apartment. Wearing my winter boots, for example, takes several minutes to lace them up entirely and an equal amount of time to take them off. I can tell you this, if I am going to the trouble of putting those boots on, there is no way that I am having sex. That’s just too much effort to put them on and off again. My winter boots prevent more sex than any chastity belt ever did.
Unless I met a guy with a boot fetish, in which case I wouldn’t need to take them off. Thank goddess that I am gay. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that a hetero could probably find a woman with a such a boot fetish if he put some effort into it. Being gay, though, I could get ten men lined up just by choosing the right bar. Too bad I don’t find some guy rubbing his crotch on my boot all that hot – Well, it’s kinda hot.
More than anything else, though, the arctic cold really tests my motivation to go the gym. Somehow, I still drag my carcass into that sweaty pit. After all, I don’t have enough chest hair to ever qualify as a bear. So, that just leaves staying relatively thin as my most basic option in the queer world. I suppose there’s some health benefits to exercising, but, whatever. We all know that it’s just about the sex.
While at the gym, though, I rarely have a positive attitude. Some people, I imagine, must be totally focused on the gym. They must get into it and need it. I, in contrast, think fairly negative thoughts while there. Here is what typically runs through my mind:
- Man, this sucks.
I will be skinny.
This time could be spent doing something more pleasant – like having a lobotomy. At least then I wouldn’t care if I gained an extra ten pounds or not.
I wonder if this is how Steve Reeves started out.
Man, this sucks.
God, I hope those shower stalls are cleaner than last time. I could have sworn the mold was cruising me.
At least this gym doesn’t have the mold problems of Walter Reed Hospital.
How is Bush still in office?
Man, this sucks.
Isn’t that the guy who spit in the water fountain three months ago? I don’t forget those things – Ever. He’s nasty. Still, he’s kinda cute too.
I bet I am the only man in this gym who has the Wonder Woman theme song on his work-out playlist.
I bet I am not the only man in this gym who imagines himself as Lynda Carter while running on the treadmill. I am not sayin’, I am just sayin’.
Man, this sucks
That guy sure has a lot of tattoos. I think I will nickname him “Illustrated Man” in my own mind.
When was the last time I read the Illustrated Man? Middle school?
Maybe I should get a tattoo.
Man, this sucks.
Even though I hate it, I think it looks cool when I do the declined bench press.
Did I remember to turn off the coffee maker before I left?
Man, this sucks.
Hey, there’s that woman with the cool hair. I nicknamed her “cool hair.”
Maybe I should be more imaginative in my nicknames.
I wonder if cool hair is a lesbian.
Man, this sucks
Ugh, that’s heavy.
I could make fat sexy again.
I wonder if the other gym patrons are disturbed that I do a Freddie Mercury pose when Mika’s “Grace Kelly” song plays on my i-pod.
Man, this sucks.
Eating that bag of guacamole-flavored chips before coming here was a serious mistake.
I wish this gym had a liquor license.
Illustrated Man sure can lift a lot weight. I bet under all that ink, he has a good body.
Man, this sucks.
I wonder if I could get a blog entry out of this.
With all this work, I deserve a treat. When I get home, I am going to eat a whole cheesecake.
Cheesecake always makes me think of the Golden Girls.
Man, this sucks.
Damn – Illustrated Man started using the machine that I was going to use next. I now despise Illustrated Man.
Maybe I should just get my stomach stapled and skip all of this unpleasantness.
I wonder if Swingline makes the staples they use in that stomach operation. They seem to have some sort of staple monopoly.
Man, this sucks.
I can’t believe that I pay for this pain.
Fuck the gym.
Fuck society’s expectations for beauty.
Man, This sucks.
Only another five minutes on the treadmill and I will be done.
If I keep doing the treadmill, I wonder if I will have any ligaments left in my knees by the time I am forty.
Hey, I am done. Now I don’t have to worry about the gym for another 48 hours. That wasn’t so bad.
It kinda sucked, though.
