Like your head is all trapped up inside a bottle.
Hello, my name is cycle-t, and welcome once again to the bi-weekly, semi-annual, brand new Mind Bottle adventure time. As with every other entry, this will jump around alot, so try to keep up. A transcript of this post will be provided upon request, and as always, we broadcast simulcast in español and braile, for the hearing impared.
So going to the gym is not as easy as it used to be. Lately i’ve been going, which is way out of my element. By element, I mean sitting inanimate infront of my computer talking myself out of playing Guitar Hero because it involves to much movement. Yet to the gym I’ve been.
Every gym worth its salt contains the essentials: treadmills, weight machines, smoothie bar, beefy guys made of testosterone, et cetera. More importantly, they have locker rooms. Now this brings me to my point.
I’m not normally a squeamish kind of guy, but I have to say with all honesty that I have never been exposed to more old men’s penises in the past two months than I ever could have imagined possible. If it were easy to ignore and/or avoid, I would do with great gusto and it wouldn’t be an issue. However, what cannot be avoided is the shriveled windsocks wish to come converse with you: “How’s the weather, slugger?”, “Want to go play some squash, partner?”, “Hey champ, you need a spot out there?”.
Now normally when I, and hopefully the majority of people on this planet, talk to another human being, we don’t lead with our crotch. I don’t recall a time where I wanted to hit an unsuspecting person in the face with myself before I asked them about the Watchmen movie.
So what’s my point? The point is, I understand that the local gym serves as a community outreach for many people, but please don’t reach out with your “entire community”, if you catch the vernacular.
I’m out.
