First of all, working out at the gym with Johnny Vegas is good because he knows how to keep you motivated when you want to quit.
Ninja: Are we done with biceps yet?
Johnny Vegas: Look at your biceps, man...do they look done to you?
If everyone at the gym was like me or Johnny V, that would be okay...but they're not. There are other people at the gym which annoy me more than they should especially because of my bad mood. And here are the culprits:
OCD Guy. It doesn't bother me (much) that you sit there and fold your clothes like my grandmother. It doesn't bother me that you bring hangers to put your clothes away (actually, it does, but I'll pretend it doesn't). But what the fcuk is up with the shoe trees? Who brings shoe trees to the gym? Do you really think those Allen Edmonds knockoffs will deform and lose their shape if you don't keep them in shoe trees for the hour that you're going to be in the gym? If you weren't twice my size, I would beat you to death with those shoe trees.
Steroid guy. On behalf of everyone, Steroid Guy, let me tell you that you are not fooling anyone. No one has that many muscles. You've got muscles in places where most people don't even have places. Get off the roids, man. It'll shrink your pee pee and give you cancer. I know some guy probably kicked sand in your face when you were 11 and you swore you would get big and now you are so big and swollen that every shirt you wear looks like it belongs to your little brother, but it's time to let it go man. Besides, chicks don't dig guys with huge muscles and small pee pees...they dig libertarians, beeyotch! And in case you think you know who I am and want to kick my ass, just let me say that "I'm not him". I'm some other guy at a different gym and I was talking about some other roid-head with tiny genitals. No, Really.


Pale Freakishly Hairy Guy. Yes you, you freak. What the fcuk. Someone with pasty white skin and more hair on their back than I have on my chest should never ever wear a tank top...ever. And you need to start going to tanning booths and waxing your back. Haven't you ever seen an episode of Queer Eye? I don't know what your deal is, man. Maybe you're Turkish, maybe your part Sasquatch. I dunno. But this isn't a beach on the mediterranean, this is my gym, Chewbacca. I wish I was exaggerating how hairy this guy was, but he looked like the guy in this pic, except he was freakishly pale. Like all the guys in our IT dept.
BenchPress Addict. Listen up, muscle man. You know why you are hunched over and looked deformed? Because you need to work out ALL your muscles. If you work out your chest and arms, but not your back, then you look like the hunchback of Notre Dame's freaky cousin on steroids. Your chest and triceps are huge, but you have microscopic biceps and a huge gut. Not good, man; not good at all. And the chicken legs. Good god man, it's bad enough your upper body looks deformed but do SOME leg presses or lunges or something. You look like some deformed stickfigure some one made using an orange for the body and toothpicks for the legs. I don't go to the gym as often as I should, but whenever I do, you're always benchpressing. WHY are you always doing benchpresses? When I bench, you're benching; when I do cardio, you're benching; when I do legs, you're benching...etc. Stop with the fcuking bench! There are plenty of other machines, weights and exercises you can do. Try them. I know you're good at benching, how could you do it so much and not be good at it, but for the love of Moses, branch out a little and do some other muscle groups.
Black sock guy. You know I make fun of people in Florida when I see them in brown sandals with black socks. You know where black socks go? With black shoes. If you're going to commit a fashion crime by wearing dress socks with sneakers, at least have the decency to wear long pants so I don't have to witness those distracting fcuking socks when I'm trying to lift.
Big Shorts Guy. Listen carefully: If your shorts go past your knees, then they don't fit you, got it? The only way you could get away with shorts that are longer than your knees are if you are married to a pentecostal minister. Are you? Didn't think so...so cut it out.
You know what shorts that go past your knees are called? They're called capri pants. And yes, that makes you a girl...wearing 1980s fashion. Are you still watching Pretty in Pink and the Breakfast Club, champ? What makes your fashion crime a capital punishment is that your ridiculous looking shorts have the logo for the school that beat my school in the NCAA tournament. Are you trying to get me to throw a dumbell at you? If so, keep it up. My school got taken out in the first round this year, but all our starters will be playing again next season. Next March I will mock you mercilously for your ridiculous shorts and the school that they came from...which I'm not even sure is a real college.Little Shorts Guy. Yes, you. Those shorts may be okay if you had a career in 70s gay porn, but they are not appropriate for the gym. I don't want to do incline presses then look up and see some dude's underwear. It's freaky and disgusting. And I don't care how dirty your laundry is, you better keep wearing underwear. If you decide to go freeballing at the gym one day and I look up from the bench and see that I will throw a barbell at your head. Then I'll run, 'cuz you look like you're on steroids too.
Li'l Engine that Could. Look, man, no one walks around calling me "Stevie Strongman" or anything, but I know how much I can lift and I especially know how much I can't lift. You're not that big. If you're going to workout by yourself, then go with lighter weight. I don't like hearing you making sounds like you are giving birth when are working out next to me. And I don't even know you so, no, I don't want to "spot you for just one set" and I don't want to feel obligated to stop what I'm doing when you lift without a spotter and suddenly yelp "someone get this off me! help me please! Oh my trachea...I'm dying, please please don't let me die like this. I can't breathe, I think I'm dying!!!" Walk it off, like a man dammit!








































