That's the phrase I was told today during a trial trip to a local gym. It kind of took me by surprise; I've been tested on fitness not to long ago in the past, and I thought I did just fine. But, if some too-concerned-with-his-abs motherfucker with blonde highlights thinks I run like a little girl, who am I to argue?

The Big fucking Bad....that's who!

My workplace pal got a pile of guest passes to his gym after he renewed his membership the other week. He's been on my ass lately about getting out there with him, and seeing as I have a bunch of days off, I figured what the shit, off we go to the gym. Now, its been a long time since I've been to a gym. I keep healthy and active in my own way; never was a big fan of the exercise machines or free weights. I was amazed at the machinery they have there now. I don't remember having half the stuff at my old gym that this place had in the first floor alone...impressive, if anything else.

So up to the sign-in area we go. He shows his ID, and tells 'em that I'll be using one of the passes. The lovely lady behind the desk says first we have to meet with a trainer before going about or merry way. Sure, whatever. Here comes the pitch, I figured. The guy shows in all his douche-y goodness, looking the part of the stereotypical fitness fucker who does nothing else but lift weights and corn-hole his cousin. "Hey! 'm Josh! How are you!" These weren't questions as much as loud statements (thus the exclaminations). Before I can answer, he says that he'll be able to better help us if he knows where my "level is". I don't have a level, I tell him, I'm just here for the free trial. He disregards this and follows us into the main room, talking the entire time. "Blah blah blah healthy blah blah blah exercise blah blah blah I suck pole" (okay, I added the last one). He was really pissing me off.

We get to the treadmill and he says to me "Go for a run, bro. Check it out." Sure. Whatever. I get on and he starts smashing buttons. My guess is its the only piece of electronics he can operate that doesn't cook popcorn in under three minutes, but decide he must have his reasons for being a cock-bag. I start running. He ups the level. I run faster. He ups the level more. Eventually, I had to stop, much to his delight.  "You run like a little girl!" he says, smiling a big shit-eating grin. "You NEED to be here daily, man. You are seriously unfit. When can we sign you up?"

If you're gonna fuck me, at least buy me dinner first.

I tell him I have no intention of joining, just visiting. He says that with his help I could be in "tip-top" by September. I decline, walking toward another area with my pal in tow. He follows us to every machine we visit, breaking down how awesome the gym is and how it'll change me forever. Finallly, after about a half an hour, I'd had enough. I tell him I'm done for the day and to have a good one...all that shit.

He still persists I join. Now I'm pissed.

I called him a slew of names, make fun of his '98 style N'Sync hair, and proceeded to tell him that had he not been such a cock, maybe he would have gotten some commission out of me for joining. New, perspective members were waiting around and heard this, much to Randy Savage's dislike. His boss eventually comes out (also a meathead) and tries to smooth it over with a six-month free pass. I advise him to shove it up ol' Josh's ass, told him to tell that dink to tone down the sale, and left. While smoking in the parking lot and scraping off the car, the "new signers" walked out shortly after, much to my delight.

Fuck the gym and fuck fitness fanatics who feel they're better than the average person. What ever happened to a little sway and good salesmanship? Why call me a name to try and produce positive results? Fuck them. I'll stick with my current fitness program. Calastetics are way more effective for a guy like me, anyway. I have no problem with those who choose to go to the gym, but don't be all balls-fuck rude about it to people who don't. He knows shit about me or what I do for a living. I'm probably ten times healthier than he is...but to him its all appearance and bravado. My job requires me to have a very high level of fitness and stamina. Fuck that guy and fuck his "motivation".

Anyway, that was my fun for the day. To spite Josh, I'm going to go to McDonalds and get the double quarter pounder with the big french fries and soda, then wash it down with half a pack of cigarettes and the leftover beer from yesterday.

Don't run like girls...unless you're a girl, I guess.

-The Big Bad