I cannot run. I cannot hide.
They are #Gymbags. I even created a new hash tag on Twitter just for this phenomenon.
Each Tuesday, I’ll run down my list of weekly offenders and I encourage you, my sick little lemmings, to email me at erika [at] redheadedfury [dot] com and send me your ideas for each week’s #Gymbag post. You will be credited, I’ll give you a linkback. So shut the fuck up. Tell me who pisses you off and I’ll tell you who chaps my hide underneath my cycloskort.
#Gymbags for the Week of 9/28/09
- Sloppy and Slick – the dude who had no time to wipe-down his spin bike after class but had plenty of time to check his hair in the mirror on the way out.
- Icky Sticky – the gal who took her Band-Aids off following her shower and (!!!) stuck them to the vanity mirror. (I can’t make this shit up)
- Trophy Wife – the mid-forties lady with freshly-planted breasts and collagen-filled lips, face painted to the hilt and paint-splashed baseball cap atop her perfectly flat ironed hair, yelling at her anorexic 13-year-old daughter on the machine next to her to “C’mon! Go faster! You’re being lazy!”
- Still Drunk – the frat boy on the elliptical machine next to me who reeked of alcohol so completely that I almost puked. Just like he had 5 minutes before he came to the gym.
- TMI – the nice college coeds who proceeded to blurt out their oral sex practices at top volume. I featured them in last week’s Dear Redhead post for ToyWithMe.com.
By the way, have you subscribed to this RSS feed? Seriously – get this shit in your reader. Screw all that depressing health care reform shit from Yahoo! News. I’m collecting readers. I’m going to make Christmas ornaments out of you and popsicle sticks.