There is a certain scent produced when a sweaty asshole has been trapped in skin tight spandex while enduring a strenuous hour long cardio workout. If you are not familiar with the anal stench produced by this, then I personally invite you to come to my city sponsored Brooklyn gym, where you can enjoy the inner hairs of your nostrils being burnt off, while basking in the fumes of an overweight Polish girl that chooses to do her calisthenics in the middle of the weight room.
Who is she? Who cares. Every Monday, Wednesdays, and Friday this monster of a women squeezes into spandex made for a six year old boy and drags her flaccid body to the gym. Not to be misconstrued, I’m very happy to support anyone who is proactive about controlling their weight and shape, BUT under no circumstances do I support the anal acid cloud that causes my corneas to burn and arms to twitch. To help you understand the scent she produces, I would suggest imagining what Shrek’s shit smells like after drinking a bottle of patron and eating a Dinosaur.
Most days there is a 15 foot clearance between her and any other human (Though a lot of bugs seem to be attracted to her, they all usually die before her workout is over). Last week I saw a new member to the gym unknowingly attempt to use a machine eleven feet from the beast. I wanted to save him, but knew it was to late. Several seconds into his workout he had already thrown up on himself six times and would later have to have both of his arms amputated. She was so busy doing sloppy jumping jacks, she didn’t even notice the man she almost killed.
Sometimes in between my sets, I stare at her and wonder if a horse gave birth to her. Today she decided to stay later than usual and we all paid for it. Most of the steel bars began to bend and part of the roof collapsed. The radio stop working and just kept making coughing noises. One man, while maxing out on the bench, fainted and the weight fell onto his chest. Another man so frustrated at the fumes threw a twenty pound weight into the mirror. He then took pieces of it and tried stuffing them in his nose. Speaking to no one in particular, he said, “I’ll smell my blood before I smell her rotting asshole any longer.” I tried to keep away with my gym towel wrapped around my face. Thankfully after short set of lunges she headed for the door. Her scent stayed with us for forty minutes after, but at least she was gone. I finished my workout and then met her by the locker rooms. She was hungry and being my girlfriend, she wanted to go get a bite to eat after the gym.
Holding My Breath,
Daniel Dickey
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{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
other than the fact that you a pimplicioussssssssss!- your backdrops need some work – you devil you..
xoxoxo
other than the fact that you are pimplicioussssssssss!
- the backdrops need some work – you devil you..
xoxoxo
ps.. thanks for the fries
pss… and the wild sex
psss… call me
Lolololol holy shit
just think of it like training…like how the marines have to be tear gassed twice a month…training for what exactly is the tough question…but you’ll know when the situation arises and you’re immune to acid ass clouds because you’ve been exposed so much
ps-where the FUCK are the ADS DANIEL??? I bet you still don’t have a body pillow.
this is one of the funniest things i have ever read and the fact that you tagged the jonas brothers took it to a level that, i have to be honest with you, ive never been. well played sir
Jesus Christ that’s some funny fucking shit. I wish I had that kind of power at the gym.
TOUCHDOWN!!!!! I love you.