Hey, you. Yeah, you, impatient musclehead at the gym.
Newsflash, fucko: If I’m doing jumping jacks five feet away from the racks of free weights, I am not in your way. Plenty of other people, my trainer included, have previously been able to move around me without incident. Sure, my legs and arms are going this way and that, but between my own awareness of space and theirs, we’ve somehow managed to make the past few minutes work for everyone. So, stop shaking your bald fucking head at me in annoyance.
Here’s a tip: If you are in some way prohibited from engaging in the exercise of your choosing, pick another one to do! You certainly walk around as if you know every machine, free weight, and ab ball in the place backwards and forwards. Clearly with your infinite knowledge and tremendous stamina, you could walk away from your incline bench presses for a moment and do, say, some lat pull-downs, or maybe take a spin on the rotary torso machine, and then return to the strenuous punishment of your pectorals without missing a beat.
Of course, perhaps I should be more understanding. After all, once you had ample room to retrieve the 65 pound weights you so desired, you waved them around wildly, making a grand spectacle of moving them the grueling ten feet from the rack over to your bench, where you quite audibly squeezed out around six reps before letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor at your sides. Had I known you would need such wide clearance to allow our tacky tattooed ass to maneuver these dumbbells, I would have ceased my routine immediately to allow you pass. How impolite of me! I’m just mortified.
Honestly, impatient muscle head at the gym. Honestly…