So I recently picked up downloaded the exercise routine system known as the P90X system, which is essentially a home workout system in which you follow the DVDs which promises you a ripped body in just 90 days–contrast this of course to other workout programs which promise you to become fat flabby and impotent.

I did it in part because I fell into the trap of its unique marketing techniques, in part because my routines were becoming mundane and I needed to change them up, but perhaps mostly because I absolutely, positively, LOATHE going to the gym; or rather, I loathe having to deal with the types of people who go to the gym and think that they own the damn place.

Here are some of the many annoyances that I’ve observed in my many years of gymming (don’t let the bony arms and flabby abs fool you, I indeed have a membership that I use… at my convenience) that have been been rekindled during my triumphant return to one 24-Hour Fitness tonight.

1) Guy who acts like he’s giving birth at the gym

Don’t relegate our governator’s performance in which he defies all that we know about science and ends up getting pregnant, w/ child, as simply a fictional dream of billions of women worldwide–if you want to find out what it would be like (or at least sounds like) if men could give birth, head out to my local gym.

There are actually two types of guys inwhich I’m tempted to call an ambulance for, and perhaps an editor of a medical journal to record such breakthrough in the world of science.

First there’s the guy who is actually indeed built like our governator, and feels like it’s not enough that he has to let everyone around see him bench pressing an elephant–literally, we even call the elephant Stampy–he also has to let everyone inside (and outside) of the gym hear him do so, along with perhaps half the neighborhood and sometimes nearby galaxies.

“GrrRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!” he goes, “I Jack, I strong!!!”

He then proceeds to stuff a fully grown mountain lion in his mouth, for protein.

Then on the other hand you have the guy who weighs about as much as the 15lb dumbbell that he’s trying to lift–but if you had no visual cues and could only hear him struggling, you’d pull out a cigar and go to Hallmark to find a card congratulating him on his new twins.

Luckily though, some New Yorkerss have some bit of sense in them.

2) People who use the water fountains to save up for the next drought

So there I was walking toward the water fountain for a quick sip when some guy abruptly cuts in front of me to claim the fountain, of which I have no problem with at all really. I was tired and moving quite slowly, and if someone is that thirsty and want it that much more than me then they certainly deserve it.

The only problem was he wasn’t going for a quick sip, or even to gulp down a few mouthfuls. He was there to fill up his coddam water bottle. And it wasn’t even a miniature water bottle that makes sense to lug around the gym–or the Sahara Desert even, this looked like one of those things that you need an industrial sized water hose that they use to either bathe elephants or to water NYC’s Central Park with to fill up.

You get one of these things filled up and I’m confident that you would’ve been set to solve the water crisis that occured during the early stages of Hurricane Katrina.

I decided though to just wait out the 4.2 hours the dude was going to spend filling ‘er up, because the other water fountain was on the other side of the gym, and with me exhausted as I was I knew it would’ve taken at least half that long to crawl over there.

And plus you just know that someone else is over there filling up their aquariums filled with common pet fishies like great white sharks and blue whales (I’m aware it’s a mammal).

3) Dudes who parade around buck naked in the locker room

Perhaps the best part of the gym experience is at the very end when you’ve finished, proud of what you’ve accomplished, and when the endorphins produced during the workout start to kick in making you feel alive, energetic, almost euphoric.

You then go into the bathroom, dry yourself up, give yourself a quick glance in the mirror and enjoy that pump you got, and then attempt to go on back to your day feeling proud of yourself.

Except as you’re exiting, you notice that there’s an old, fat, pasty-white, hairy-ass, pimple laden BUCK NAKED dude staring at himself in the mirror right before the entrance.

My reaction:

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I suppose, on the one hand, that I was fortunate this dude’s gut was sticking out so far ahead of him that he technically didn’t need a towel or even any underwear to cover up his um…goods, but, that’s like justifying losing a testicle with the idea that “but hey I still got another one”.
Now certainly I have no problem with obese people, naked people, or even obese naked people.

But it’s like 2 Girls 1 Cup.

Just knowing of its existence is way more than enough to give me shivers and nightmares…I just don’t.actually.need.to.see.it with my own two virgin eyes. It should’ve been an arrestable offense that borderlines the need for the death penalty for lewd behavior (I don’t care if this was a private establishment–or if we have an 8th amendment).

Ugh, UghH, UGh. I had to force myself to keep my eyes open for as long as I could after I exited my gym (I still am actually), for when I close my eyes for even just a split second, with the image so ingrained and tattooed into my brain, it pops into my head everytime I blink, and any more exposure to it is surely potential cause for permanent impotence.

Again, ugh, ugh, *puke*

I really had 6.5 more reasons to go here, but I’m going to have to cut it short for now due to the memories that have just been triggered here in the last few paragraphs–and this is a convenient excuse to be lazy as well.

Consider that last point to be 7.5 full reasons in and of itself, enough not to ever step foot into a gym again.