pet peeve of the week: old men at the gym

I do the gym thing occasionally, like couple of times a week. My ass needs that or one day it’ll make contact with Mother Earth and I’d like to put off that moment as long as possible, thank you very much.

I’m not alone at the gym. As I hate most everyone, I find that to be a great a pity, but hey, other people need to exercise too. I’ll just have to put up with them.

To a certain degree.

That’s right, I don’t think I should have to put up with just anything and here’s where I draw the line: old men in baggy sweat shorts that a) look like they stole them off Ramses the Great’s desiccating body and b) smell like their owner happened to roll themselves in an old rat carcass on the way over. Add that they insist on pulling said shorts up right under their arms so that they ride up the butt-crack pretty hard and the private parts all but fall out in certain positions and I think you get my point.

So, dear Old Man At The Gym, I’ll spell it out for you:

Dude, you smell and you look like shit and I’m having nightmares about how one day your wiener will fall out and I will cry in front of a gymful of people. If your wife goes for that homeless chic, fine, but please keep that pervy shit in the bedroom because I do not want to put my precious tush anywhere near where those shorts have been.

Get. Yourself. A. Decent. Outfit. And learn how to use the goddamn washing machine.

/agneta