This Week In F—k You: Gym Conversation People

03.31.10 7 years ago 131 Comments

It’s the offseason. Real football is still months and months away. You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re hateful. We understand. At KSK, hating things is what we do best. That’s why we have the offseason series THIS WEEK IN F YOU, in which we unleash our considerable bile upon that which we dislike the most. Today: Gym conversation people.

I was chatting with Mr. Maj yesterday when he brought up this topic:

So I forgot my headphones the other day. Worst gym day ever. Even worse than listening to that music is listening to “gym conversations.” I prayed for death. The conversation itself was brutal. This one guy behind me struck up a conversation with a female. He spent about twenty minutes going over his entire workout history. How many marathons he’s run, his weight before and after training. I can’t imagine a worse place to overhear a conversation, except for the waiting room at a proctologist’s office. MAYBE.

KOGOD is right. Gym conversation people are the fucking worst people on Earth. Hey fuckheads, does this look like a fucking speed dating bar? I’m trying to move my fat ass along this goddamn treadmill, and you are not helping. SILENCE. I want fucking silence.

I swear to God, I have gone to the gym, put on my headphones, hopped on a machine, only to then have two galpals sandwich me on the machines to the immediate left and right of me, and then been forced to listen to them chat for forty goddamn minutes while I’m stuck between them. And they somehow manage to talk louder than the maximum volume setting on my headphones. HOLY FUCK. YOU FUCKING SHREWS. And it’s never an interesting conversation. They never give me precious football injury info, or a crucial stock tip. No, no. It’s always the fucking most inane shit you’ve ever heard. “Well, Jenny says they’re going to Ocean City this weekend. Do you like Ocean City? I went once! Not really my thing.” HOLY SHIT, DOES THIS CONVERSATION HAVE TO BE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW? THERE ARE 70 TVS YOU CAN WATCH HERE, CUNTSAUCE. DIE.

And I can’t get off! All the other machines are taken! Precious calorie burning might stop! I’m stuck. I sit there on my machine and I just fucking seethe. All I can think about is visualizing these two being hit by a fucking van. And I always think the conversation is going to end, but it never does. They just keep going on and on and on. Even when one of these people finishes their workout, they’ll just linger on the machine to keep on gabbing. I try and counter this by farting, burping, wiping snot onto my shirt, anything.

Even worse are the fuckhead guys who will walk up to some chick on the elliptical and just stand in front of the machine and stay there forever to flirt with them. It’s fucking horrible, because the poor girl can’t go anywhere. She’s stuck having to talk to this asshole, and all the fucker can talk about is whatever exercises he just did. No cares about your fucking uppers, YOU FUCKING COCKFACE. These are the same guys who will happily hold conversations in the gym stairwell, then glare at me when I try and walk by them. YOU’RE ON THE FUCKING STAIRWELL. THIS IS A THOROUGHFARE. FIND A FUCKING CORNER. But no, all their flirting must be done in a doorway, or in front of a water fountain. God, I hate them. FUCK YOU, TODD.

And then there are the personal trainers. These dipshits who litter the club and stand right by the machine next to you, teaching some retard how to use a treadmill. IT’S A FUCKING TREADMILL. WHO THE FUCK NEEDS A TUTORIAL TO USE IT? YOU FUCKING RUN ON IT. They’ll take 25 minutes teaching this person to use the stupid thing. I want them garroted. Or they’ll spot an old client on one of the machines be like, “Carla! How are you! How’s your progress?” Horrible, in every goddamn way.

Maj may be right that the gym may be the worst place on Earth to overhear a conversation. The only other place that comes to mind is in a movie theater during the movie, or if I’m trying to sleep on an airplane. That’s about it. Gym conversation people are agents of Satan. I’m gonna open my own goddamn gym. It’s gonna be called DON’T FUCKING TALK, and anyone who talks will have their tongue cut out. And I will be the only person allowed to join.

It will rule.

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