It has occurred to me that you may not believe everything I write - particularly when it comes to making fun of the people at my gym. If I'm right, I don't blame you. How can there be a crazy homeless woman who constantly paces around the pool, a guy in his 20s with no friends who zips up little boys' pants, and an old man willing to both insult my profession and pimp out his granddaughter to me, all at one location? That definitely sounds like a work of fiction.
I'd like to ask you all to believe me that these and other crazy individuals frequent my gym, but there's a better way to earn your trust. I've been inspired by the episode of Boy Meets World in which Eric asks Jack if he has pictures of his trip to China he's planning on writing about and then responding to the negative answer, "Then you got nothin'!" So, with that in mind, I've decided to put pictures of my gym into this jerks entry.
Now, as you can imagine, snapping pictures of strange people can be quite difficult. You can't just walk up to someone, flip out your phone, press the camera button and take a picture of them. This is especially difficult at the gym, when I don't have my phone on me most of the time because I'm either swimming or taking a dip in the hot tub (**). It'd be great if my phone happened to be waterproof, but unfortunately, that's not the case.
(**) By hot tub, I mean kiddie pool. You see, there's a very shallow pool next to the lap pool which is normally heated to 104 degrees. Old men and little kids share it, which sounds like a scene from To Catch a Predator. But that's exactly who goes into it - assuming it's even open. This "hot tub" is frequently broken; in fact, they recently closed it for two weeks because the water was an odd shade of yellow. It's almost like a bunch of people peed in it. I assume the old men had more to do with that than the kids.
It's also difficult to take a picture of people who are self-aware. Take Grandpa Pimp, for instance. He might be crazy, but he would at least notice if I tried to snap a picture of him in the locker room. He'd either report me to management to get my membership revoked, or try to get me to marry his ugliest granddaughter instead of his prettiest one. I'm not sure which would be worse.
Before I show you my pictures, I have to mention that I did have another encounter with Grandpa Pimp recently. Wearing a strange necklace with the Pi symbol on it, he walked up to me and initiated a conversation.
Grandpa Pimp: Let me talk to you for a second, young man.
Grandpa Pimp: You are a journalist, am I right?
Me: Sort of, yeah.
Grandpa Pimp: My youngest granddaughter - she's very stupid.
Me: Oh... really?
Grandpa Pimp: Yes. She wants to study journalism in London. I tell her she is stupid. She don't need journalism! Who needs journalism?
Me: Well, there are definitely ways to make a good living...
Grandpa Pimp: She don't need journalism! She needs a nice, young man to marry.
Me: Well, if she doesn't want to have a career, then I guess.
Grandpa Pimp: What does she need a career for? She needs a nice, young man. You are a nice, young man...
Me: Uhh... thanks?
Grandpa Pimp: Let me show you a picture of my youngest granddaughter. She's very stupid, but very beautiful.
He revealed the same picture as last time, and sure enough, he was right. Well, at least the part about her looks. I don't know how stupid she can be if she has aspirations to study her desired profession in London, but whatever...
Me: Yeah, she's pretty.
Grandpa Pimp: You are a nice, young man, and you are a journalist! You are also very successful! She can marry you, and you can hire her to be a journalist!
Me: Wait... what?
Grandpa Pimp: You would be a great husband for her! You are very successful, and you can hire her!
I'm not sure when Granda Pimp hatched this plan, but it seemed flawless in his mind. Sure, this random guy he met at the gym can marry his stupid granddaughter and also sleep with her so she rises to the top of his company. That makes a ton of sense!
Grandpa Pimp: My eldest granddaughter, she's even more beautiful, yes?
Grandpa Pimp: You cannot marry her. Because she's smart. Do you know what she does for a living?
Me: No clue.
Grandpa Pimp: Nothing! She does nothing! She found a nice, young man, and she married him. She's very smart!
So, according to this geezer, a woman's intelligence is measured by her willingness to settle down and marry at an early age. She can be a shark lawyer, a renowned doctor, or a scientist attempting to make world-changing discoveries - but all of that doesn't matter if she doesn't find a "nice, young man" to wed as soon as possible.
Unfortunately, I have no pictures of Grandpa Pimp, and I'm not sure I could even post them for legality purposes. I can show other members, however, if I'm discrete about it.
Take Homeless Clown Woman, for instance. This lady, who walks around the pool a dozen times in a row and believes she's being spied on by the government, apparently thinks she works at my gym. I'm not making this up. She's crazy enough to believe that she's a gym employee. I recently saw her reordering newspapers near the front desk. They were all the same, so I have no idea what she thought she was doing. I tried to flip out my phone, but by the time I accessed my camera, it was too late - she had already started down the hallway toward her next meaningless task.
Of course, Homeless Clown Woman is referred to by other monikers. I'm sure she was given a real name by her parents upon birth. Perhaps the real gym employees call her Milton Waddams...
I know of someone who refers to her as the Grudge as well. The reason? When Homeless Clown Woman "works out," all she does is lean forward on the exercise bike and stare down at the floor. Her long, nappy hair covers up her entire face, just like the monster chick from the Grudge. Don't believe me? Here's proof:
Is that scary, or what? I'm almost terrified that Homeless Clown Woman is going to crawl out of the shadows, grab me and force me to walk around the pool with her a dozen times.
It makes me sad that I didn't capture a picture of Homeless Grudge Woman's face. I don't think I would've been liable for any sort of lawsuit because she's crazy and probably has no clue what's going on around her. At the same time, however, I believe I have spared you all from looking at her hideous, makeup-ridden face. Showing her ugly mug on here would've certainly caused some of you readers to suffer a heart attack, or at least a mild stroke. So, for those of you who are overweight and have health issues, you're welcome.
As you can probably tell, Homeless Grudge Woman wasn't exactly having an intense workout. She was, however, exercising much harder than someone else at the weight room on this particular day. Don't believe me? Here's proof:
Wow. This guy sure puts the "work" in workout. A 30-minute nap is exactly what he needs to trim that belly fat and develop that six-pack he's been yearning for throughout his entire, long life.
And I'm not joking about the 30-minute bit. He was actually asleep for half an hour. I bench pressed, did my triceps, worked out my biceps and even took pictures with my phone, and he was snoozing the entire time.
Seriously, how do you fall asleep at the gym? You go there to work out; if you're tired, why not just take a nap on the couch? Well, at least this guy was on a stupid leg machine that no one cares about. It would've totally sucked if he had dozed off on the gym's one-and-only bicep curl seat.
And yes, there's only one bicep curl seat for some reason. I'm confident that I didn't have to take a picture of that for proof. I figured this would make sense to you upon seeing what two of my fellow gym patrons look like.
I'm actually beginning to think there's something special about my gym. And by "special," I'm not just referring to the sort of special that parents call their glue-eating child. Oh, no. My gym is on the brink of medical breakthroughs, despite the fact that there's only one bicep curl seat and half the members are either ghastly monsters or asleep elderly men. My gym is actually one of the world leaders in curing a disease. Don't believe me? Here's proof:
This is a bottle I found just sitting on a shelf near the desk in my weight room. The desk was unattended - there's never anyone working there - so I just picked up this bottle, which caught my eye.
It disinfects... AIDS? Huh? And it's just sitting on a forgotten shelf of my gym's weight room? How is this even possible?
Why hasn't anyone working at the gym realized that there's a cure for AIDS just laying around? Shouldn't they be calling Scientific American so they can sell it and buy, I don't know, a second bicep curl seat? Or how about something to keep the kiddie hot tub pool from turning yellow all the time? Does this spray not work on the yellow water? Why would it disinfect AIDS and not old-man urine?
Oh, and by the way, this spray disinfects herpes and Polio too! Getting rid of herpes is cool, but not Polio, because as Duke University recently discovered, Polio is the cure for cancer. So, owners of my gym, if you are reading this, it would be great if you developed a Miracle Spray 2.0 to get rid of everything on there except Polio. And while you're at it, can you make sure it disinfects Ebola and old-man urine, too? Thanks!
I was actually befuddled why my gym has a strong spray like this until I recalled how disgusting the place can be. Just last week, I walked by the bathroom on the pool deck, and I had to cover my nose because the stench emanating from there was so foul. I figured Homeless Grudge Woman or some other member was taking a nasty crap in there, so I just went into the kiddie hot tub pool, as I usually do after my workout.
About 20 minutes later, I walked by the bathroom, and the smell was even worse. It dawned on me that an old gym member may have died in there, and that the stench was from a rotting corpse. I knocked on the door, and when I didn't hear a response, I opened it against my better judgment. What I saw was even worse than a rotting corpse. Don't believe me? Here's proof:
Yeah... there was literally s*** running down the wall from the ceiling on both sides. The bathroom right above this one must have been leaking, which would explain how fecal matter from there was getting into this one. The s*** even reached the paper-towel dispenser, so all of the towels in there were covered in brown crap. It was so disgusting that I nearly vomited everywhere.
I told the lifeguard about it, and she contacted maintenance. Some guy who looked like he was stoned came down 10 minutes later. I couldn't believe the lone sentence he said to her:
"I'll grab a bucket so it doesn't drip onto the floor."
Wow, way to come up with a great solution! That'll definitely stop poop from reaching this bathroom! Unfortunately, he must have forgotten, because he never brought down a bucket to "fix" this problem.
My guess is that he told Homeless Clown Woman to do it, but she never got the job done because she thought the government was spying on her again. That would explain why she paced around the pool a dozen times that afternoon. Unfortunately, I was not able to produce a picture of that.