Saturday, May 14, 2011


Since I'm not spending money on Boys or Drugs I figured I should put it towards my appearance.

So I enrolled in a Gym.

Exercise, Sweating and General Health go against everything I believe in, but let's face it; I don't have enough sex to work off my alcohol. I'm afraid of swiming via water, running in public is humiliating and I'll never learn to ride a bike. It's either this or bulimia.

I walk into the "Milan Sportsman Club" wearing hot pink Nike with matching makeup and nails. I look  #appropriate.

"Hey Yall! Can I have like a membership or something?"

"What kind?"

"The kind thats for the Gym?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to be skinny."

I pay and enter the "weight room."

I look for hot guys.

"Is this it?"

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah like, where are those things you can walk on?"

"In the other room."

"Do yall have any magazines?"


"Do yall have MTV?"


"What about vending machines with chocolate power bars?"

"You're hungry?"

"Tell me about the Sauna; can I be naked?"

"If you want."

"Is it Co-Ed?"

Two weeks later the staff already love me, and by "love" I mean "laugh at."

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