25 November 2008

Thanksgiving cards and dicks at the gym.

I know, right -- who buys Thanksgiving cards? Well, other than my mom. But she includes $20 of drinking money, so who am I to complain? I'm one of those people buying a Thankgiving card this year, though. Because most of my Minnesota relatives are heading to The Nunnery to have Thanksgiving dinner The Nun, I thought perhaps I should send The Nun a card.

This actually would probably have been one of the better family Thanksgivings, because my mom doesn't have to do any work, making her far less insane and stressed. I'm a little sad to miss it, truth be told. However, I adore Thanksgiving with KayGee and The Prison Librarian. It's all the food, plus booze (though, I had wine at The Nunnery on Easter), cursing and football, without the crucifixes, religious women and annoying family!

So I'm looking for a card for The Nun. Nothing too silly or racy. Nothing too childish or frilly. Jesus, it was tough. Did you know there are "romantic" Thanksgiving cards? Who the fuck buys these? What the hell do they say inside? "Hey baby, let's work off these food babies by practicing making real babies!" Wishful thinking. I'm certain the romantic cards are full of overwrought prose detailing just how thankful the cardgiver is to have the card receiver in her life (because you know dudes aren't buying Thanksgiving cards, romantic or otherwise... not straight dudes, anyway).

I suppose I could have looked to see what exactly appears in a romantic Thanksgiving card, but I was afraid. Also, I was on a schedule. Had to get to the gym for my almost-daily dose of asshole.

Asshole 1: Look Dick Face, if you're going to take the spray bottle filled with ... some sort of cleaning spray, I hope, with you to your machine (on the opposite side of the cardio area, I might add) instead of saturating a wad of paper towels like everyone else does, DO NOT fucking stop to chat with someone on the way, then stop on your impossibly long and circuitous route back to watch TV for a bit. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass, you'd see two people standing with paper towels in hand, waiting for the cleaner. Or maybe you wouldn't, because you're a fucking dick.

Asshole 2: Turn off your cell phone before yoga starts, you inconsiderate fucking twat. This is the second time it's happened. Actually, it's the third. When it happened a couple of weeks ago, you didn't silence the phone after the first call and then you got another call. You're lucky I didn't accidentally punch you in the face when you were standing too close to me in the locker room when I was putting on my sweatshirt. Namaste, Lady Jerkwad of Stupidton.

10 comments:

Little Ms Blogger said...

I can just imagine how angry you'd be if you didn't do yoga....LOL...

Jess said...

I'd probably be in jail. Or therapy. Lucky for me, a little orgasmic pigeon pose releases all the anger.

This morning I was marvelling at how great of a mood I've been in lately. The assholes at the gym are really just a blip on the radar. But they make for such good blog fodder. So, I hold on to that brief, intense anger and write about it later. Everyone wins!

.::~P~::. said...

If you don't punch her for yourself...please do it for me

I actually got angry reading this LOL

shaken AND stirred said...

I just had the same gym experience yesterday with an asshat and the spray bottle. Seriously!? What is so hard about spraying a paper towel and then LEAVING THE BOTTLE THERE? Sometimes I think the people on the machines next to me have IQs of less than 20. But I also tend to be quite harsh. I feel your pain..:-)

Andrew DK said...

I'm kind of sad that you guys use paper towels when a reusable rag would be just as good. I mean, it IS being sprayed with sanitizer (I hope) the whole time, right?

There needs to be a sign by the goddamn spray bottles that says,

"Listen, asshole: just spray the goddamn rag and leave the bottle here, for fuck's sake. No, I will not end this PSA by saying thank-you. Wait, dammit."

Hmmmm, what's this? A Thanksgiving card from Prince? o_O

Ezekiel Barzillai Smythe said...

Nothing gets my hackles up like the overly-skinny cardio girl who act like everyone is staring obsessively at them. Actually, no, we're not jealous. We just hate stuck up bitches. I'll take that out to the parking lot!

Jess said...

P: I'm going to give Inconsiderate Phone Twat another chance before I punch her in the face. I might even talk to her first! Since it happened right before Savasana, I didn't really have the opportunity to give her the Look of Hateful Death. However, the Look of Hateful Death seemed to have an effect on the instructor whose class before yoga always goes over.

ADK: The paper towels are bad, I know. But my gym is SO FUCKING GROSS I'll do what I can in other areas of my life to try to offest the environmental impact. I don't like to touch anything there if I don't have to. And I have to touch a lot of shit there.

Is it really harsh, Shaken and Stirred, if the people are inconsiderate assholes? Or morons? I would argue no. They're lucky we don't go bitchcakes on them, quite frankly.

Mr. Smythe, I totally will stare at that skinny bitch doing cardio if she thinks she's hot shit (because she's fully made up, drechened in perfume and yapping on her cell, perhaps?). However, it'll be the Look of Hateful Death.

Do you ever just want to try to live a day as one of these self-absorbed douchenozzles?

Andrew DK said...

Never really understood what was so attractive about Overly-Skinny Cardio Girl, but as they say, attraction isn't a choice.

And some people are attracted to skeletons.

Apparently.

As long as she doesn't take the goddamn spray bottle across the room and hops off the elliptical when her times up, I couldn't care less.

Jess said...

Yeah!

Dick Face the Spray Bottle Stealer was there again tonight. Joke was on him, though. There were no paper towels!

Seriously, that place is so fucking gross. No paper towels in the bathroom. Paper towels but empty disinfectant bottle in the cardio area. Later, disinfectant in the bottle but no paper towels. I need to be hosed down with bleach.

Frank said...

They make Thanksgiving cards?

What an age we live in.