|Kind of self explanatory|
As a college aged male, I find that an effective method of procrastination with regards to my academic pursuits while also fulfilling a gender norm is going to exercise at the on campus gym. You know the drill; lift some weights, do a little cardio, shower off and pat yourself on the back for getting yourself into shape despite living in a country where rampant cellulite and 50 plus inch waist lines are becoming the status quo. As satisfying as it is to pump some iron and feel like a boss in the process, there are types of people who frequent this establishment that make the experience border on intolerable at times. I call out these assholes below:
|King of All Meathead Brodaddy's|
This species of gym dwelling asshole will typically be accompanied by a chubby friend to ensure without a doubt he looks better by comparison when lifting (Say that part in a Steve Irwin voice, it's alot of fun. RIP Croc Hunter.) Further indicating marks of this former jock desperate to maintain his ego are barbed wire bicep tattoos, shin high lacrosse socks, and a varsity sport shirt turned into a cutoff shirt from at least 5 years ago. They seem to think everyone in the general vicinity finds them supportive when they bellow, “ONE MO’ SET BRO, YOU FUCKIN’ GOT THIS, LETS GO!!! YEAHHH!!!!” Earth to dumbfuck: Everyone else is simply trying to exercise in peace, not humor you by reliving your “glory” days. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t notice you brought along the Pillsbury Doughboy for a spotter. I bet your oversized Hummer is sitting in the parking lot as further evidence of your need to overcompensate your steroidically shrunken balls.
Earthquake Weight Drop Douche
|I hope it lands on your toes|
This is a sub-group of the Meathead Brodaddy since they share many of the same motivations, yet they seem to be utterly harmless since they aren’t nearly as distinctly loud/fucking obnoxious. They are almost as bad as their counterpart, however, since they find more subtle, passive aggressive ways to try to demonstrate their physical superiority to everyone around. Typically this is accomplished by loading up a barbell with absurd amounts of weight, getting halfway through one set with a look of intense pain on their face, then letting it SLAM into the floor, causing a fucking tremor to shake the foundation of the gym and distracting everyone else. We get it, asshole. You can lift heavy things up, but unlike thefunny Eastern European Guy on the Planet Fitness Ads, you lack the common courtesy/cognitive ability to put them down without putting holes in the floor.
Mobile Sweat Puddles
|Towel's aren't just for decoration: USE ONE, DICK|
Remember Pig Pen from Charlie Brown who was the lovable little guy with the eternal dust cloud swarming around him? This person is exactly the same, except that he’s a complete pain in the ass and instead of a cartoon cloud of dirt circulating around his person, there is instead a DELUGE of sweat soaking his skin and clothes. You could literally be on the other side of the gym and detect this foul creatures sour stench because its just that potent. Oh, and don’t even dream of using a machine after he does. Not only will he slather his disgusting form all over every surface inch, his complete obliviousness his disgusting state prevents his radar from alerting him to the fact he should WIPE DOWN after finishing. Whatever unfortunate device ran into his warpath might as well have a haz-mat team come in and quarantine the poor exercise equipment, since it is essentially dead to everyone who wanted to use it.
Condescending Form Coaches
|Maybe I am, but you are an asshole. I believe I win.|
There are many times in life when we need to be corrected because we fucked up at something: the girlfriend pointing out you left the seat up again, a police officer explaining to a drunken undergrad why it is unacceptable to instruct a member of law enforcement to, “Fuck off” (that example wasn’t from personal experience…totally hypothetical…yeah…) But when at the gym, many of us use it as a type of sanctuary, a peaceful temporary respite. Whatever our motivations or goals for being at the gym, when we are there, we go because it is separate from our other realms of life where we have many demands and responsibilities. This is the very last place where I want a stranger to walk up to me and say, “Hey man, you totally weren’t doing those squats right. See, what you wanna do is keep your backside completely underneath you (insert further condescending bullshit instructions here.) Listen, fuckwad. If I had wanted instruction on how to do an exercise, I would have asked one of the professionals who work here how to do it, not some random dipshit who felt the need to be superior for no reason. Now what YOU “wanna do” is get out of my face before I use my “improper” fighting form to break your nose.
Primal Roar Lifters
|When you are the King of Spartans, yelling is allowed. When lifting weights? Shut the fuck up|
Listen, when you are on that last rep of an exercise and you are running on fumes, I understand how badly that burn can feel and a gasp/slight grunt is a useful mechanism for fighting the pain you just endured. But for the love of everything that’s holy, you do not need to roar like Mel Gibsonin Braveheart charging into theBattle of Stirling (the clip is way too long since my previous point is made in the first 30-45 seconds, but Braveheart is fucking awesome, so more of it can’t hurt) every FUCKING time you complete a rep. You knew what you were getting into when you purposely chose weights to lift that were way out of your league. Stop being an attention seeking bitch and work out in a less vocal, aggravating way like the rest of us, or I will institute that whatever weight you were lifting when disturbing everyone’s peace has to be shoved straight up your ass.