An Open Letter to Local Gym Guido
I am writing to inform you that everyone in America besides the kids on Jersey Shore think you’re a fucking tard. I see you at the gym several times a week, you’re there every single time I’m there. I’m not sure if you’re aware of anyone’s presence besides your own, though, so I won’t presume you have a clue who I am.
You know those weird V-Neck tee shirts you wear, even to the gym? Most people think those are creepy. Nobody wants to see your orangey-tanned pectorals which are strangely absent of hair. By the way, it’s not very manly to be as smooth-to-the-touch as me, since I have a vagina. You don’t need to put your patchy (head) hair up in globs of that shiny, smelly gel when you’re at the gym either. It just makes you look like a child molester. Oh that’s right, you DID get charged for sleeping with that minor. What was she… sixteen? But she gave you consent, right? nobigdeal.
I’m sorry, did I bruise your giant ego? I know it’s hard to hear criticisms, but I really think you should listen and take this to heart. For the aforementioned reasons (and many more!), most people tend to gag when you’re present. Shocking, I know. It is what it is.
that girl whose ass you stare at while I’m running on the treadmill.
P.S. Yeah, I know it’s a nice ass – why do you think I spend my time at the gym?! Doesn’t make you any less creepy for staring (for minutes on end). Yes, I’m aware that you’re obsessively checking me out. Do you really think I’m that dense?