Flurry O' Fury

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Now that we’re back from Utah I was able to get back on my gym schedule again. The schedule is pretty simple – if I don’t have to be to court early and if I’m not terribly hung-over, then I should really hit the gym every morning. I refuse to go to the gym after work because it’s always crowded with morons, like the loser who snapped at me once for switching one of the TVs from Wheel of Fortune to a baseball game. Can you believe he reported me to one of the personal trainers? Like what are they going to do? Make me drop and give them 20 push-ups? What a whiny little bitch. He did have nice pecs, though.

Anyway, I work later hours, so I have the luxury of going into the gym around 8:30 a.m. when the majority of people have already left for their rush hour traffic and 9-to-5 drudgery. Most people remaining at that time are either retirees, MILFs, or strippers and other sex industry workers. Another category is added in the summer – high school teens exercising with great fury, trying to develop that perfect stomach so as to attract their ideal sex partner. I watch as the boys ingest a variety of dubious supplements in furtherance of their goal, like powdered shark piss or liquid lizard hormones. The girls never take anything like that though, probably being content enough to simply vomit from time to time – sometimes the old methods work best.

I observe all of these things because my time on the treadmills is dead time, where my body is occupied but my mind is disengaged and free to ponder whatever crosses my path. I often think about how great it would be to be one of the many WASPy MILFs churning on the stairmasters in front of me. Spend all morning at the gym, have a fashionable lunch, engage in some light afternoon shopping, pickup the kids in the SUV, send the housekeeper home for the evening, cook a meal for the family, tuck the tykes into bed, then put out for 3 to 5 minutes before ending the day with some TV. I’m sure that there are more rewarding existences, but it’s not bad work if you can get it. They probably acquired their positions at college, earning a M.R.S. while there. That degree is probably all that separates them from the strippers sweating next to them. There’s a great lesson – make sure your daughters’ keep their grades up.

4 Comments:

  • At 4:43 AM, Blogger Woodward said…

    Where's your gym? The YMCA on Stella Link doesn't have near the diversity yours seems to. I posted a suggestion that management do whatever's necessary to recruit more strippers and sex workers, but they don't seem to care. That's the trouble with American business today - just not responsive to the customers.

     
  • At 4:44 AM, Blogger Woodward said…

    Where's your gym? The YMCA on Stella Link doesn't have near the diversity yours seems to. I posted a suggestion that management do whatever's necessary to recruit more strippers and sex workers, but they don't seem to care. That's the trouble with American business today - just not responsive to the customers.

     
  • At 4:45 AM, Blogger Woodward said…

    Sorry about the double post. Oops, now there's three...

     
  • At 9:42 AM, Blogger Furious Jam said…

    Our Y has proximity to the strip clubs, modeling studios, and Asian whorehouses that cover Richmond and Westheimer west of the Galleria. The 24 Hour Fitness down the block is loaded with them too. As with any business, it's all about location, location, location.

     

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