The Gym

Well...if you can call it that. See I work out...well...if you can call it that. At one of these totally girly fru fru places. You know, all women, painted in pastels, lots of recipes and reminders to get your mammogram hanging on the walls. Only here's the thing. Its in this quaint little uppity Ohio town, full of old ladies. So like everyone who goes there seems to have showered coiffed and applied make-up first. Oh they'll jog ever so appropriately, with their matching work out suits.... except for me.

There I am, digging at eye boogers in a concert t-shirt.

And they're scared.

So finally the other day it happened, see they all talk to each other but noone has talked to me and I have been going, for several months now. One of the proper ladies simply pointed at my shirt and said 'whats that'.

I looked down and to my horror and amazement realized I was wearing my favorite t-shirt. I was forced to reply, "oh, thats from a Metallica concert. It says 'meet the inmates'. "

Oh yeah, the gym loves me......