I'd like to say I'm so focused at the gym that I don't notice what other people are doing, but it's impossible to avoid looking at the mat area when it's only a few feet from my treadmill and people are conspicuously stretching. As if the spread legs (in shorts), sweat-wet crotches, and bulbous exposed bellies aren't enough fodder for disgust, I must witness this one scrawny schlub who looks like he's fucking the blue Swiss ball — and fucking it badly, with tremendously poor form. If that's how he moves against plastic, I shudder to imagine him against flesh.
fresh-baked at 10:48 PMPlease don't judge said scrawny ball-humper too harshly. I too, was once the lad in the back of comic books, relegated to facefulls of kicked sand and long amorous nights with a WHAMMO! hoppy ball. But through practice, the aid of a self-help book entitled "From off your balls and into your sack," and $19.99 sent to a warehouse in Bethel, Pennsylvania, I was able to graduate from rubber to latex, and my first inflate-a-date, Mavis. Now, 26 years, 125 dolls and three dead bicycle pumps later, I am finally ready to become a man. Next week I am graduating and going to hold hands with a flesh and blood woman who isn't a blood relative.
Offered by: Ds on March 17, 2008 10:29 PMSo much for my plans to get into yoga.
Actually, I tried it once, unfortunately after a Tex Mex lunch.
Somewhere between the cobra and dog position, I managed to fart so loud I could have won a beer-fueled fraternity contest.
Feh.
omg...and I'm going to have to TOUCH these sweat-wet crotches, and bulbous exposed bellies.
I. am. NOT! kidding.
This weekend, during what I view as school for the ultra mega glam job as a yoga instructor, I learned how to adjust "Warrior 1"….. from BEHIND.
First: I have to get up in their buttocks and bump and grind them HARD from behind. I’m not really a very touchy feely type to begin with, so to get over this mental block, I HAD to do a little research at an empty dance club with a guy that had bleached tips and was retardedly tan.
Second: I have to wrap both of my rock hard thighs around their sweat drenched gooey back thigh. I have to get in very. very. close. *shudders*
Third: I have to slide my hands across their funky shoulders to remind them to relax.
Fourth: This is the fun one. I slip and slid my hands from their funky, STUBBLY, arm pits up to their elbows.
Fifth: I have to pull their arms back so that their sopping back cozies into my own sweat drenched chest.
Nice.
And at the end?
(Oh you thought that was the worst of it? HAAA!!!)
When they’re lying in Savasana…all oozing greasy, oily, probably YELLOW in a microscope, sweat I get to run my fingers lovingly through their hair and give a very tender face massage.
That’s STILL not all! There’s more.
(giggle)
(dry heave)
I then go around to their feet. (gulp) and. (throws up in mouth a little) touch them.
Rub them.
Lick them.
Chew off some toe nail to get to the good stuff...the toe jam and rejoice when it’s slightly crunchy.
