Big Fat Liar

That’s me. A big fatty, fat, fat, fatty fatterton liar. Fat! Fat! Fatty…!

Waoh, sorry about that. It’s that self loathing again. Looks like daddy needs his medicine.

Okay, I’m better now. The reason that I’m a big fat liar is because I promised yesterday that I would post the new TAM Cartoon either last night or this morning. It’s not going to happen. There will be no new TAM Cartoon for the beginning of this week. I would love to give you a great reason why. Unfortunately, there isn’t one. I’m just incredibly lazy and creatively bankrupt.

There.

Unfortunately, my creative drought is spreading to this blog post as well. I have nothing to post about. I had an idea, but I forgot what it was. See, that’s why I should write these things down. But carrying a pad of paper around is an awful lot of work. Who needs that kind of burden, right?


Oh, hey, here’s something. The other morning Tanya and I were at the gym. Gyms are inherently creepy places. They haven’t made a gym yet without the creep. I don’t think it’s possible. It’s just that everyone is constantly comparing their bodies to others’. That’s what you do. Maybe not consciously, but it happens to the best of us. If you were in an art class, the same thing would happen. Band, drama…whatever…you know…I’m not gay!

Now, my gym isn’t the creepiest that I’ve been to. It’s not a huge meat market. But there are a few guys who go out of their way to personally obliterate any traces of women’s lib. The biggest offender also happens to be the biggest dude in the gym. The most in-shape I should say. He’s a body builder.

Of course, I can’t get into the heads of the women at the gym so I don’t know what they think of him. But most of them seem to take his misogynist leering in stride. Like I said, he’s the biggest dude there. The other guys look up to him. He’s a complete moron, but the other guys look up to him.

In fact, he’s the same guy who was involved in the fight that I mentioned in a much earlier post. He’s not aggressive or anything as a rule. But you can never tell when roid-rage is going to show its think head.

Also, that guy has really nothing to do with my story. I just think it’s interesting to see the hierarchy of the gym. It’s truly survival of the fittest. There’s a hierarchy any place you go. The gym, the country club, the astrophysics lab.

I’m just going to assume a great deal about those last two.

If fitness is key to respect at the gym, one might think that the personal trainers would be gods among men. Not the case. Personal trainers are helpful, sure. They’re friendly. They’re fit. But there’s something predatory about them. Perhaps it’s because they really want your money. They’re basically solicitors. Universal gym-to-universal gym salesmen.

Whores?

“Hey pal, you looking to get in some really great shape? No one can do it like I do! I’ll make you a deal, buddy. Just because I like you.”

“Hey, handsome, you looking for a great workout?”

“Please hire me, I’ve got eight illegitimate kids to pay for!”

Joining a gym can be like spending the summer in a bear’s den. It’s only a matter of time before you get your eyes clawed out.

I’m being a bit unfair toward personal trainers. But there are those who become personal trainers to pickup chicks/guys. That’s the kind that accosted Tanya the other morning. There’s been a big push for the trainers to find more clients. I know this because it’s posted on the office wall of the PT’s office. I know that it’s posted on the PT’s office wall because the PT’s office has another glass wall that looks out into the workout area.

Luckily the personal trainers though better of putting up the “screw ‘em for all their worth” poster. But I’m sure that’s just implied.

Anyway, I leave for two seconds to get a drink of water and this guy’s all over Tanya. And in a very creepy way. He even had the creepy inflection going on. “Heeeeey, did you just get done with your…workout?”

Complete with the short pause before “workout,” treating it as if it’s some kind of double-entendre.

I’m not a jealous person. Honestly, it didn’t bother me that he was hitting on Tanya. If she was the type of person to run away with that creep, then we wouldn’t be together in the first place.

No, what bothered me was that Tanya saw the man’s flirting as an accusation of her being fat. Only women can take a guy’s obvious flirting and turn it into an insult. Sure, he was a personal trainer looking to make some cash. But this guy was the type of personal trainer whose idea of a great workout doesn’t involve gym equipment.

Well, maybe some Pilates gear.

Does a sex swing count as Pilates gear?

I’m just asking because I’m going to start working on my taxes soon.

My point is, ladies, that when a smarmy assjerk oozes his slimyness all over you, just slap the bastard and feel great about your hot rockin' bod! Jeeze!


Fun Fact: I’m wearing a green shirt today too. No the same one either, smart ass.

No picture though.