Pong.

...so i'm at GloboGym last night happily sweating my ass off on the elliptical runner and I'm cruising along for a good 20 minutes and who happens to come along and start running next to me? Stenchy Sweats-a-lot Guy. I can appreciate the fact that we're at a gym and you're bound to sweat but COME ON. This guy must've been secreting garbage, shit and vomit at the same time.

What was kinda funny was that when his unwelcome pong started wafting across the rest of the room you could PHYSICALLY SEE the wave of stench overcome individuals. People started breathing out of their mouths or breathing through their t-shirts. I couldn't take it any more so I went downstairs to the weights floor (AKA gay-nightclub-floor-with-all-the-ugly-weeded-out) where Matt was working out. I have overcome my fear of the muscle marys and started to do weights.

Matt's quite serious when he works out. He even has a schedule on a pad and he ticks off each station. I, on the other hand, try and make Matt laugh when he's in the middle of a 100kg bench press. Matt does not appreciate this. Matt also takes serious issue when random-muscle-guy takes his bottle of water.

Matt: "Excuse me?"
RMG (Random Muscle Guy): "Oh are you using this machine?"
Matt: "NO. I'M USING THIS BOTTLE OF WATER." *glare*
RMG: "Wanna fuck?" OK, I added this one myself.

I remember when Matt and I first started dating and he was the sweetest, most gracious being on Earth. Now he roadrages like he's on steroids and glares at RMG's who make the mistake of drinking from his water bottle. I'm so proud.

Song of the day: "Don't Ya" - Tori Alamaze