Monday Night Hotness

Well it's official: Monday night is Hot Night at the gym. From about 5:30 to 7:00 it's like a masturbator's paradise in there. Evidently, most of the wrinkly, decripit, old people that give me nightmares get kicked out and in their stead are hot young college chicks. The difference between gross, saggy boobs and shapely firm cha-chas is like the difference between sweaty grundle and Entenman's Little Bites--one makes you want to throw-up, the other you'd be willing to give up a kidney for. Having spent too much time at the gym and not having taken an anatomy course since middle school, I had almost forgotten that women aren't supposed to be able to trip over their gross, saggy boobs.

But back to the hot chicks. It's almost disgusting how slutty today's youth is (and by almost disgusting, I really mean one of the greatest trends in US history). It seems like instead of buying new clothes, they just dig through the closet and find their clothes from elementary school. Some of these girls' shorts are so short it just looks like a waist band. Shorts to them are belts to most decent people. They make John Stockton look like Allen Iverson.

Last night there was a chick wearing those beautifully designed spandex that stop just under the buttocks; apparently she mixed up her work-out clothes with her Victoria Secret underwear. After ensuring that her make-up didn't smear, she moved over to quite possibly the most ingenious invention known to man-kind: the inductor machine, more commonly known as the "Cooch Machine" where your legs are spread and you squeeze in. Since I didn't bring a change of underwear, I had to leave pre-maturely. And speaking of pre-mature, let's just say my femur wasn't the biggest bone in my body last night.

Just kidding, it actually went down the opposite way. The chicks were the ones that couldn't concentrate. I've become accustomed to having a small group of ladies follow me around, but it was a fucking horde last night. I had to jump 15 feet up and swing from rafter to rafter just to get to the bench press. Since they were blocking the plates, I had to use them as the weights. After I stacked them ten high on each side and benched them with my right arm, I realized that many of the chicks couldn't breathe as they were so taken away with my stunning features. Fortunately, this is quite common so I resuscitated them and finally agreed to take all their numbers in return for their leaving me alone. The manager called me over and we both agreed that I shouldn't come anymore on Monday nights. As I had expected, these girls were calling all their friends to witness the Gutmeister in person and the gym was so over-capacity that the fire marshall had called saying it just wasn't safe.

(I'm sure none of you were fooled earlier when it seemed like I was the distracted party as opposed to the females, but it's still fun to joke around every now and then.)

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