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Mardi Gras from hell.
Are you a man? Are you thinking about going to the gym? How about taking your fucking clothes? Last time I went to the gym, I had to take a pee. So, no big deal, I head over to the locker room to use the facilities. I do my business, turn around, and BAM! Standing right there, sixty year old man, butt ass naked. As quickly as I could, I pull a ninety degree pivot and slam my face into the hand blow dryer, but it is too late. Upon seeing this horrible, horrible man, I was immediately rendered impotent for the next, oh, I'd say six weeks. Of course, I didn't want to make it look like I was caught off guard, so I go to wash my hands before sprinting out of the bathroom. I try to keep my eyes squinted as tightly shut as possible, so as not to see this train wreck of an individual standing there with his wrinkly-old-man-wang flopping around. Now, after washing my hands (with my eyes shut), I made a mad dash for the exit of the locker room. After I made it out of Hell alive, I had to ask myself a question. What kind of person goes into the bathroom section of the locker room (it's a completely seperate place, with a door between) and walks around naked for awhile? I mean, if you're going to walk around naked (I know I'm way to insecure about my lower regions to do so) at least stay in the goddamn area that's meant for it. How would you like it if I came over to your house and raped your cat while you weren't paying attention? Not very much, right? Well, that's how I felt after I saw that. When I got back to my bench for bench press, I loaded up about four hundred pounds on each side of the bar, pushed it up a tiny bit, and dropped it on my forehead, in the hopes that it would wipe out the horrible image. No such luck. Damn.
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