Yeah, I’m talking to you guys. At the gym today, I ran 10k, and when I got into the locker room - just put my thumbs in my shorts, you two muscle heads sweep into the locker room in a big freaking hurry (what, those barbells are gonna melt if you’re a few seconds late?). About the time my shorts are at my ankles you fuckwads pick out a locker. Now, there’s gotta be 100 FUCKING EMPTY LOCKERS over there in the OPPOSITE HALF ACRE of the locker room, but NO, YOU NUMBNUTS HAVE to have the one next to me!
Not just next to me, mind you, but in the space between me and the wall. So, as I’m minding my own (locker room-type) business, you and your butt-buddy have to move yourselves and all your fucking gear thru the 18 INCHES OF SPACE between the cold tile wall and my SWEATY BARE WHITE ASS.
WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? Maybe you two have some exotic warm-up planned, but my idea of an after-workout regimen does not include an ELBOW between the CHEEKS, A TROIS.
So, you get your gear stowed, but wait - you have to come back. “I have to put my watch away”. Yeah, next time I’ll bring my speculum and some boy-butter, and we’ll have some fun finding a place to put your fucking watch.
As I am about to leave for my own workout, I pray that my previous post does not come back to bite me on my not-yet sweaty covered-by-clothing slightly tanned butt.
Reminds me of the time I was camping in upstate South Carolina. (Yes, SC does have an ‘upstate’, just not very much of it.) It was during the week, and I pitched my tent in a practically empty state park campground.
I went off on my hike, and, feeling overly ambitious, added a loop to my hike that turned it from a pretty middlin’ 10-mile hike to a pretty exhausting 16-miler.
When I staggered back into camp, I found some bozo in an RV had decided to occupy the site directly across from mine. The asshole was watching TV, and every few seconds, the canned laughter of the laugh-track forced its way into my brain.
The campground still had, at best, a thin scattering of campsites occupied. Other than him and me, there was nobody for six or seven campsites in either direction, on either side of the road.
I was practically too exhausted to move, but I summoned up the energy to move my tent and belongings a few sites down the road. I have no idea why he decided that the site right across from my tent was the perfect place to pull in and watch the tube at.
It’s because I can’t resist your sweet naked ass. I’m not here, focused on my own workout - I’m just thinking how to get a piece of you. Maybe if I come back to put my watch away I can get another look at your impressive cock. Mmmm…baby, that’s why I come to the gym.
Oh, and this is for another one of my locker-room buddies - you know who you are- you’re the one who comes in on Saturday morning. You take a shower, then stand in front of the mirror. You put one foot up on the sink and then proceed to blow dry your enormous pubic beard with a hair dryer.
Let me speak for the rest of humanity - NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THIS, NOT ON SATURDAY MORNING, NOT EVER! The sight of you man-handling your man parts with the aid of an electrified appliance is just not on my list of wanna-see items! There are some things that Civilized People just don’t want to be exposed to.
My (psychology) prof/boss once recalled a bus-riding experience of his. He boarded a bus one morning, and observed that he was the sole passenger. It was an off-peak travel time, so there wasn’t anything unusual about this. He picked the window seat of one of those forward-facing two-seaters, and then proceeded to read the paper, look out the window, space out, etc.
At one stop, a big, smelly, creepy fellow boarded the bus. BSCF took survey of the bus, and then out of the three dozen or so seats available, chose to sit right next to my boss. Practially sat on my boss, even. It pissed the hell out of my boss, and weirded him out.
IIRC, boss’ stop was the next one, so he didn’t have to endure BSCF for long. But he couldn’t understand why out of all the seats on the bus, BSCF had to choose the “closest goddamn seat” as possible. After all, don’t most people possess a sense of personal space and a desire to maintain theirs and respect others’?
Apparently not.
It happens to the best of us.
My condolences on the pubic-beard blow dryer guy, though.
