Actually, it IS Rocket Science

Let’s get physical, I mean annoying

I’ve never been good at exercising on a regular basis.

I’ve always been extremely good at making up glib rationalizations to evade the possibility of pulling on a restrictive sports bra and a pair of running shorts and engage in what I regularly refer to as being-in-a-constant-state-of-complete-uncomfortableness-for-at-least-an-hour.

You know, the usual reasoning:

I can’t right now because I know the gym is closed for cleaning for the next hour, and by then I’ll be working on homework.

I can’t because there’s a total creeper who’s been annoying the shit out of me for the past week.

I can’t because their new automatic air freshener smells like someone else’s musty old grandmaw’s house.

I can’t right now because I’m having a fat day.  (Figure that one out.)

I can’t right now because Mad Men is on.  What’s that?  Yes, I KNOW I have all of them on dvd already.  But this is a refresher before the next season.  Would you like to discuss your affinity for Everybody Loves Raymond syndication??

I can’t right now because I just COMPLETELY BY ACCIDENT poured a glass of wine.

And after today I have just another reason why.


This morning, as with many mornings, I reluctantly slapped on my workout attire and went down to my apartment complex’s fitness center.  There was no one there, and being that it’s such a small place already, there’s only one television delegated to anyone on one of the five lined up machines.  It is, obviously, first come first serve, and since I was alone I turned on the boob tube and proceeded to zone out.

Somewhere around 9:30 one of the complex’s maintenance keepers, a guy who I see around the neighborhood on a regular basis and have struck up a minor friendship with, came up to the fitness center’s door and placed the obligatory notice that from 10-11 the gym would be closed for cleaning.  A few minutes later, a woman came in and took her place at one of the other machines.  We exchanged quick smiles and she began her own self torture workout.

ain't she pretty, y'all?

Finally, just a moment or two shy of the 10am deadline, I ended my session on the treadmill and she ended hers.  I figured we were calling it quits for the same reason  being that we needed to clear out for the guy to come dust the windows or whatever the hell he does, until I noticed her reason for hopping off the machine sparked from another motivation entirely.

She approached me and asked, “Would you mind turning the television down a little bit?”

To which I immediately felt like a bad person and smiled, said, “Sure!  Sorry!” and turned the box down, not realizing that it was as loud as I thought it was, even after exiting the treadmill.

This, in my opinion, would be the proper place to end the conversation.  But I guess she had other plans as what I heard next went like this:

“Because it’s really loud.”

I nod.

“And, you know, I’m getting a headache.”

I half-nod.  Shit wasn’t that loud, yo.

“You know, because I have to turn the music in my headphones up just so I can hear?”

I do nothing.

“And I’ve still got a long way to go on my workout.”

I blatantly disregard what she’s saying.

Because at this point, lady, you’ve far overshot a decent request.  Far as I can tell, you just want to bitch for no specific reason at someone else about something that you either really feel strongly about or take out your frustration at the fact that you never really learned to properly end a conversation.

There are few things I hate more than people who have an inflated sense of entitlement, and one of those are PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE people who have an inflated sense of entitlement.

And really, if you were suffering so greatly, why didn’t you speak up sooner?  Am I supposed to feel bad that you apparently suffered in silence for the past 15 minutes because I’m not a mind reader?


Because one bitchy move deserves another, I turned that shit on mute and walked out of the gym toward the front to retrieve my mail.  On the way back, I happened to notice my maintenance buddy in an altercation with the woman, who was now doing this weird dance where she would begin to walk away, but then twist and flip her direction and bark something back at him, then turn again and begin to walk off, only to return to the flip ‘n’ bitch again.  She finally turned a corner and the guy proceeded to enter the gym.  I poked my head in the door.

“She didn’t want to leave, did she?”

“I don’t know!  I guess not.  But I had put the sign up.”

“And she wouldn’t let well enough be, right?”

“Yeah.  Some people, you know… some people just like to complain.”

“Heard that.”


Trackbacks & Pingbacks


  1. * kimbelly says:

    flip ‘n’ bitch – I like it!

    | Reply Posted 6 years, 10 months ago

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