All those mocha lattes, you gotta do Pilates

I was reading the East Carolinian last week, which although has greatly improved since last year, is still a very shitty university paper. There are a lot of articles that you can tell they just ran because the deadline came and nothing else worthy of being printed came about. But regardless of the impressive amount of spelling and grammatical errors, poorly checked sources, and pointless articles, I read it every Tuesday and Thursday (and not just for the Pirate Rants.)
I read it online and I'm the one always leaving lengthy comments complimenting them on their faulty logic and mediocre attempts at writing anything with journalistic value, aren't I sweet? So, why don't I write for the paper? Because I refuse to be associated with such a terrible publication. If this were The Daily Tarheel, then I would be all about it

Anyway, this has absolutely nothing to do with my rant. I was reading an article last week about girls at the gym and I got excited. I hoped it would call out all those obnoxious girls sitting on weight machines and chatting on their phones, the girls who walk slowly on the inside of the track, the girls who instead of working out are just watching the guys play basketball, or even the girls who strap themselves to the ellipticals for hours, not knowing that ellipticals won't do a thing for their waistline--but none was to be found in this article. Instead, it focused on the fact that girls are scared of the weight room and ways to go about getting them in there. It was preposterous. When I finished reading this article, I knew I had just ruined another bowl of oatmeal with mindless TEC drabble.

First and foremost, I have never heard of a girl being afraid of the weight room. Was the writer referring to the entire first floor that has free weights, weight machines, ellipticals and treadMEALS? Or just the area with free weights? Either way, there are girls in weight machine, etc., area. Granted, they are just sitting there, making sure their make up hasn't smeared from that one drop of sweat that formed while rehashing their entire weekend to their friend on the phone (as they take up a machine of course), but they are in there.

In the free weight area, yeah you don't see girls, but I don't think it is because they are afraid. The article reasoned it was because they were afraid the guys were going to look at them. No one is looking at anyone, they are all too fixated on their bulging muscles and the fact that their shirt with the ridiculously large armholes-that they cut themselves-is hanging on by a thread. At least I have never been checked out while getting my arms deiseled up with those rocking ten pounders. But that could be because by this time my hair is frizzing off the top of my head, my make up has smeared and I'm the sweaty mess that's bicep curling to Thriller. (grunting to myself about how I need to get jacked and tan, sorry that shit isn't funny anymore, at all.) I mean, I would check me out and I do--I narcissistically stare at myself in the mirror all Kevin Spacey-esque in American Beauty. Mmm.

To the point..
Hey, I'm all for you getting your fat ass into shape. If the gym was packed because people were actually working out and concerned about their health, then I wouldn't mind waiting for a machine or treadmill, but that's never the case. So I'm gonna talk about what the TEC forgot to mention.

Enter the typical girl at the REC center: Full face of make-up that clearly isn't just left from what she had on during the day, skimpy shorts w/ a ripped wife beater, and shoes that were not made to work out in. She struts in with her other moronic friends, they scan all the elliptical time sheets to see if anything is open and of course there isn't because for some reason girls love the ellipticals. (I once loved the elliptical too, because it was an easy way to avoid actually running. Then when I moved to shithole U. Manor and they had broken ellipticals, I learned running actually helps you lose weight, who knew? ) They resort to walking around the track and gossip with each other, while taking up the 3 lanes, forcing everyone else to run around them. Finally, after two solid laps (a third of a mile), they retire to the weight room, where they perch upon what I call the sex machines or leg presses and inspect their nail beds, split ends and to see if their tits look good. They leave after having lengthy discussions about Coldstone and undoubtedly rolled up there and got the "Gotta Have It" size and talked about how they really need to start going to the gym more often.

Of course, this is an over exaggeration, there are a decent amount of girls who are working out, some who probably should stop working out and eat a hamburger, but none the less, aren't wasting space. However, in the one to two hours I spend there a day, I see between 5 and 10 of these gym flies, who do nothing but provide me much entertainment and great aggravation.

Now for the guys...
I can't say much about them because besides that half of them look like they have injected too many steroids, they are indeed working out. So, I'll say what I can. I don't get the ripped shirt trend. You took your t-shirt and then ripped from the armpit to about three inches from the bottom seam on the side, so it almost functions as one of those reflector vests you can wear. It's not a shirt at this point, just something that's draped over your shoulders and stained wife beater. I don't get it. And lastly, why must you grunt? Half of the time it's the guys who don't know what they are doing and are maxing out every time, so they grunt through the pain. And I just laugh, because you're the guy who pretends like they're really bad ass and are working out hard. I would come over and tell you that maxing out is bad idea and you're destroying your muscles, but taking directions from a girl at the gym is emasculating, so I'll just snicker to myself as Jitterbug plays loudly in my ears.

Shro, out!


I dedicate this blog post to Anthony. He used to be this blog's biggest fan back in the day and now that I've started it again, it's just not the same without all of the sexually innuendo filled comments he would leave. He came up with a lot of the ideas for the old posts, ignited my bitchiness and always told me to keep writing. We all miss you :( RIP.