Wednesday, February 20, 2008

I'm runnin' shit in here....

For those of you that don’t know me well, I’m a bit of an athlete; an insane, carbo-laoding, protein shake drinking, ball scratchin’ in public athlete…and I train at 24hr fitness’s Pico Roxbury location. The Pico/Roxbury location is easily one of the worst gyms in the history of the sport. That’s not an exaggeration. Yes, I have been known to embellish. Yes, I have been known to make my descriptions and recollections of situations a bit more colorful than what actually happened; but I swear to fucking Christ (who I don’t believe in) this is exactly how it went down.

I’ve been out of the gym for almost a year due to a series of injuries (shoulder, back, wrist, groin, dick) and about six weeks ago I returned to Pico Roxbury (also known as the dungeon). Well let me tell you nothing has fucking changed in this gym. For starters, the thing is underground and by that I mean no fucking windows, anywhere. Fitness equipment that was installed when Ford was in office, cardio equipment that’s so ancient that many of the pieces should have a disco ball hanging off of them (…cause you really can’t use them to get in shape). No, I don’t really use the cardio equipment. I go to the gym for one reason and for one reason only, to throw steel.


The locker room is fucking scary. I’m not going to come right out and say that the locker room is a biohazard or anything; but let’s just say if you need to get some cultures of staphylococcus you are in the right place. There are two stalls and unless you plan on taking a shit before 6am, it’s going to be hella nasty in there. The urinals aren’t pretty either. The piss odor is so strong that the paint on the walls fades in a matter of weeks (I’m not kidding). There’s so many fucking pubic hairs on the urinal you don’t even want to stand that close when you pee (better work on your 3-pointer kid!) and then there are the people who are always in the locker room. I hate all of you people and I don’t apologize for what I’m about to say.

The really old white guys with pencil dicks, balls that hang to their knees who never wear underwear….you know who you are. What is your fucking problem? First of all, just because it’s a locker room that doesn’t mean you have to be naked all the time. Contrary to popular belief the only time you should be naked for more than a nanosecond is when you are taking a shower. This standing around with your balls swinging around is not attractive; and since we’re on the topic of your balls…either shave them bald or trim back that forest of gray hair. Normally I wouldn’t care, but your balls are so hairy that it sounds like someone is trying to breakdance in a snowsuit when you walk (and he walks all over the fucking locker room). Another thing, if you are going to just hang out in the locker room naked with hairy balls…don’t try to make small talk with me. I’m not a homophobe, I’m not even anti-old man…but here on planet manhood – you put your pants on when you wish to engage another male.. that’s the rules motherfucker!

The middle aged black dude with 300+ toiletries that has a 2hr bathroom ritual; ok, you must be homeless. That’s the only logical reason you’d spend so much fucking time in this scary as shit locker room is cause you have no place else to go. I get that. What I don’t get is why you need all these bottles of ointment and colognes and pastes and sprays. Do you have a date? Is she aware that you need 6 layers of lotion to feel secure? Why do you have to constantly walk between your locker and the sink? Do you have so much shit that you have to make multiple trips? Is it really necessary to put a towel down on the counter and then place all your shit on the towel? I actually thought you were a bathroom attendant except you don’t have any fucking lollipops (where’s the fucking blow-pops dude?) …so my question is, what gives you the right to dominate a sink in the locker room for 2 hours. And why do you give me dirty looks when I come close to you to watch your hands? I think you are a serial killer. I think it’s a matter of time till you flip out and try to kill most of us.

Mr. Don’t look in my fucking locker: Ok, I don’t really get you. You have such precious and rare and sought after personal accoutrements that you bring them with you to the gym? I mean really, what could you have that is so valuble that you have to stare down everyone and constantly look over your should till you find the opportune moment to open your locker? If you really think we’re out to jack your shit…why not leave your shit at home, it’s a thought.

Mr. I like to dry my hair, armpits and feet with the wall mounted air dryer. How did you develop this peculiar behavior? What’s wrong with an old fashioned towel and why must the rest of us watch you have invisible sex with the wall as your correctly position your body parts for optimum drying. Has it occurred to you that the reason it’s mounted @ 3.5 feet is because it’s for dying hands? Do you really enjoy hot air blowing on your armpits because that’s fucking strange man…real fucking strange.

So now that’s out of the way, back to the story…

Ok, what you need to know: I’m 6ft, 220lbs…I’ve got a wide back, big fucking arms and I talk to myself when I lift. I don’t intimidate people, I don’t refuse to let people work in. I do realize that I’m kind of an ominous presence cause I’m larger than a number of the people in the gym and I lift about 3-3 ½ hours a day. That seems really strange to a lot of people, but hey…it’s my fucking body.

Also…I started a new supplement last week, it’s called Fast Twitch and it’s made by Cytosport. That’s the same people that make Muscle Milk (I’m fucking addicted to Muscle Milk) and this stuff is the shit. You mix 1 scoop with 16 oz’s of water, drink ¾’s of it 30 minutes before you lift and sip the last ¼ during your entire workout. Well let me tell you the shit makes you an animal. I thought I was going to break something I was so fucking strong on the shit.

I get into the gym portion of the gym and it’s a madhouse as per usual; crowded, bad music, rude people…you’ve got to love the gym. As I start my pre-lift ritual I see all the people I hate.

Mr. Make up your own exercise Guy: C’mon dude, the 300+ exercises we have aren’t enough for you? Is it really necessary for you to stand on top of a bench with a dumb bell in your mouth? How is any of this making you stronger?

Mr & Ms. I’ve got to smell good so I wear cologne in the gym. What is the fucking deal? Here’s a little piece of advice for the aspiring athlete, the only thing more important than correct form is oxygen. In case you failed chemistry perfumes and colognes have a lot of alcohol in them. It hangs in the air and makes a fresh breath of air nearly an impossibility. And since I’m bitching, all of you “wear a lot of jewelry” people can take a fucking leap as well. It’s a fucking gym, not a night club, not singles night…you’re fucking killing me.

Anyway, I blow through this workout like there’s nothing to it. My shoulders are blown, my arms are blown, my chest is blown. I can’t see well out of one of my eyes and I think I’m losing hearing in one of my ears. Now that’s what I call a fucking workout!

I’m staggering to the steps like a bear that just got shot with a tranqualizer and all I really want to do is get back to my crib and eat everything in sight. As I approach the reception desk I noticed that the new dude, the black guy…was kind of looking at me.

Hey man, they want me to tell you that you can’t use chalk anymore because it’s against the rules.

Ok, so…not only have I had this conversation with like 5 managers in the shitty ass gym over the last 6 years, but it’s always the same old bullshit. I was nice, and I was polite, but I wasn’t going to take any shit

Well, I don’t know who told you to say that…but that’s not really true.

What do you mean that’s not true.

Well, there’s no rule on the placard on the wall over there that mentions chalk; neither is there a rule on the contract I signed. Matter of fact, there isn’t a single rule or regulation on the website or in all of 24hr fitness that even mentions chalk. So to flatly state that chalk use is prohibited is and out-and-out lie.

Hold on…

The brother gets up and walks back to one of the many desks and talks to this short white guy who doesn’t look to happy. After a very short conversation he approaches the counter.

Listen, the issue is my clients are complaining because their hands are getting dirty from the chalk

Ok, that means fuck all to me. This is a gym, if you don’t want to get dirty you are in the wrong fucking place.

Not everyone comes in here to get ripped up and totally messy, we have to provide an environment for everyone and your spilling chalk all over the place isn’t helping.

I removed my professional rock climbing chalk bag (one of the ones with two chambers and two drawstrings), turn it upside down and shake it. No chalk comes out of the bad.

As you can see this bag does not spill chalk; so all this talk of my spilling chalk is a myth.

Until you get the dust free chalk I’d appreciate it if you’d wipe the chalk of the bars and the dumbbells.

You mean residue free chalk, this is dust free chalk (well reduced dust…chalk is a fucking dust)

You know what I mean.

Listen man, I’m not trying to be an asshole, I’m not trying to give you a hard time, but I’m not the custodian in this place. Look I’ll make you a deal. I’ll work with you to keep the excess chalk off the equipment if you work with me to enforce a number of the rules that aren’t enforced in this gym.

Like what?

Like…no open containers on the floor, like…no open-toed shoes on the floor, like…no cell phones on the floor, like…letting people work in, like…rack your weights

Well, we make announcements and post sign frequently.

I understand that, what I don’t understand is why you are going out of your way to discourage activity that is not prohibited, and not aggressively enforcing rules that we already have on the books.

He gets this ugly look on his face.

Listen man, I’m willing to work with you on the chalk if you are willing to work with me and enforce some of the rules in this gym.

After that the dude just kind of walked off. I guess I should wear a sign that says “this man can argue his positions”…because Johnny fitness manager was none too happy with me. As a result I’m the “aggressive black guy” now. It doesn’t seem to matter that the fitness manager approached me after I’d been lifting for 3+ hours with a bloodstream full of adrenaline, endorphins, testosterone and various supplements…

Anyway… it’s week 7 and I’m down to 211 lbs….I’m about to be the baddest motherfucker on the Westside. I’m most likely going to quit this gym because I’ve just been here too long and I don’t need to argue with fat trainers about training methodology.



Blogger Lanie said...

Fuckin' aye, man! You tell 'em!!!

By the way, ladies...this man is a total stud - Hot sex personified!

I love a man who doesn't take shit or back down!

1:08 PM  

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