Helloooo, how are you this fine morning? I just ate this weird-named sweet thing called… Ya momma, ugh autocorrect, I meant yamama. Yes there is something called yamama, it isn’t offensive and it tastes a lot like chocopie. Perhaps I should stop explaining. But I really like it, except the one I just ate, it tastes very eggy. Eeks.
Anyway, day 9 of gym was excellent, that’s mainly because… I didn’t go. Day 10 was better, I woke up at 10.30 am. Oh, ya I couldn’t go to the gym.
So, let’s call today day 9. I spotted new faces, I went late to the gym, so the usual faces weren’t around.
I met a man who was a copy cat. He kept tapping his foot impatiently as I took a break, to pant and puff, he wanted to work out on every machine I was working on. I had to control my irritation… you know, what with the muscles and all, I could just punch him. Punch him… after I finished panting and puffing. Damn… *breathe breathe breathe * silly, silly, *breathe breathe breathe * guy.
My fellow-gymers have icky taste in music. The moment this song, that I detest, stated playing, most of the men asked the trainer to increase the volume. I gave everyone the snide, side look. But they were too busy listening to that stupid Hangover song. The lyrics of which are ridiculous, the hero apparently has a hangover of the heroine’s eyes and a zillion other body parts. Really? Really? Idiot.
As I silently judged everyone for their extremely tacky taste in music, West life’s, I lay my love on you, started playing. Yeah… whatever “I lay my love on you… *something* *something* feels so true.”
I got carried away. It took me five minutes to realise that two old uncles were staring at me lip-syncing. I stared back at them, we had a mini stare competition. I thought, it was still a better song than stupid Hangover of the eyes and the butt or whatever.
Anyway, after that little session, I staggered back to my car. And you wouldn’t believe the song that played on the radio. Sigh.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Make it stop.