The experiences and exploits of a college grad trying to make it in the "real world:" leaving school and friends in New England, moving south, and living with her boyfriend. Watch as I pretend to be an adult.
I truly despise arrogant pricks, particularly when I'm forced to be polite to them. My stepbrother-in-law is one. One of the recruiters at work is another. Every time I have to listen to the crap that spews out of their mouths, I find it harder and harder to keep mine closed. Seriously. You are not funny. You are not intelligent, or witty. You're not any better than anyone else here, and with an attitude like yours, you only piss people off.
Alright, I'm done with that rant. Moving on.
Dear lord, please save me from spandex. Honestly, if you're on the chubby side, why on earth would you choose to wear skin tight, stretchy garmets that show every bulge, jiggle, and dimple? For the life of me, I don't understand it. And furthermore, how is this comfortable? Wouldn't you feel better in something a little looser, and a little more breathable? Cotton, or a nice poly blend that moves with you? Why? Why the spandex?
And last, but not least, to the two women who hogged two of the treadmill this evening:
Look, I know sometimes you need a good long workout. Far be it from me to begrudge you that. But there are signs up asking you to limit your time on the treadmills to 30 minutes for a REASON. There are a limited number of them, they're the most popular gym equipment, and when the gym is full (as it was today), it is fucking inconsiderate to WALK on the damn things for 40 minutes. If that's really what you want, please come at a time when the cardio room is a bit less crowded. Otherwise, I would like to point out that there are a number of other machines you can use. Have you met Mr. Elliptical? Or perhaps Senor Stairmaster? What about Madame Stationary Bike? All fine machines, and, I'd like to add, vastly underutilized. I mean, come on, all I want to do is run my mile and I'll go back to the elliptical and stationary bike. Can you please just give me the nine damn minutes I need?
