I know I have blogged about this sort of thing before, but this is getting out of hand. This is not the regular "tools at the gym" post. This is about a particular tool.
He makes me so crazy that when he shows up, I want to leave. But I will be damned if this smarmy little dude runs me out of the Y freaking M C A. I will not have it.
Tonight I saw his slimy ass arrive when I had only about 10 minutes left. That is pretty good, surely I can make it through ten minutes, I think.
But tonight, he was specially jam packed with irritation. Not only is he overly tanned, but he dresses like he is 17--with basket ball shorts hanging low, and some spring break looking t-shirt. And he is 50 if he is a day. He has this young hair cut that he uses entirely too much product in. I do not know which is the most irritating thing he does--it might be how he sings out loud to his I-Pod, clearly listening to some weird music. I can tell it is weird because while he is squealing and playing air guitar to himself, it is completely unrecognizable. Or it might be how he THANKS everyone for coming to the gym. Like he owns the place. Which he does not, mind you. He is just a regular ol jackwagon who needs to stay home and at least far away from me.
It makes me crazy. The only thing he does that is even creepier is to hit on every girl under 20 in the place, although I kind of enjoy that because he is never successful.
One day he got on the machine next to me, and made some comment about how I should slow down or I would not make it. Lovely, just what I need--tool convo. I told him I was within minutes of completing my hour, so I thought I would be all right. He of course has to tell me he does two hours per session. Um, no he does not. He must not realize I am here every friggin day and see him come and go in a much shorter time period. Plus, he is not really working all the time, he is making a nuisance of himself and squealing, and calling everyone "Brotha" and high fiving all over the place. Also, if he worked out two hours a day, he would not look like an earthworm with a tanning bed and a personal waxer.
Ugh, I cannot even talk about this much more. It is getting so bad, I am considering getting up in the mornings to go to the gym rather than going at lunch and after work like I do now. I am about to be defeated by a cartoon character