I went to the gym today. Yeah baby, THE GYM. I love saying "I went to the gym." It makes me sound so manly. When I say that I like you to think of me wearing a tanktop, really working the equipment, sweat pouring off of me. But in reality going to the gym for me is to try a equipment, find it way to hard for me to lift, push, whatever, and then spending the rest of the time watching the little TV in front of the cycling machines. As to not look too pathetic, I brush off fake sweat each time someone walks by.

    Saw theses training instructors, these pumped up balloon-people, walking around in there tight pants and shirt. So muscular that I bet they can't turn around to get the toilet paper when they're on the loo. And they're so competitve and energetic too! I was trying hard to lift some weights, minding my own business, and one of these goons come over with chests like a nuclear warhead, and roared into my ears (not exaggerating): " YES SON! Come On SON! YOU CAN DO IT! WORK THOSE BICEPS, BE A MAN!" If he had said "put hands on your head, this is an armed robbery." I would instantly obey.

    You get all sorts of people in gyms. See, I never knew that. But apparently, it's not always Sylvester Stallone working the weights. I saw this old geezer, gotta be sixty at least, coming over and sitting right next to me. No pressure for me at all. Then he started working the 140 pound "pull thingy", and all I can think of is: I'll come back in thirty years.

    But the real bright spot of the gym is this dancing room. Wooden floor. Mirros covering every wall. Perfect. But then I saw something that is totally out of place-three brightly coloured rubber balls half my height. What the...? Here is a perfect place I could practice and out jumps these "blobs" to distract me. I tried to ignore them. I tried not to look at them. When it pops into my mind I quickly think of an image of Gang Yang topless, which made me sick and would momentarily put the balls out of my mind. It didn't work. In the end I unbelievably merged to two images together: A pink ball with Gang's face on it. A hideous creature which would haunt my dreams for eternity. Then, I gave in to temptation. The instructors found me sitting on one of the balls and boucing around the room. They said they were for yoga and I was thrown out.

     So, to sum up: Don't go to gyms unless yo're VIn Deisel. If you do go, then beware of the pink balls...they are cursed.