Man do I hate working out. Let me clarify. I hate working out at the gym I go to. It is too small for all the egos that parade about as if their shit smells like roses. 1) It doesn't. And 2) You aren't as pretty or studly as you think you are. Why no love? Because the average conversation at this gym of judgment is about clubbing, last nights gossip or how pink boy tanks make ones pecs look juicy. Oh and put away the old man penis! What is with that? Who wants to see that? Why is it when I walk into the locker room every single craggy older man or middle aged man has to strut out all National Geographic like? I don't need or want to see that. Put your underwear on under your towel. Is that such a tough concept? Isn't that what high school PE was about? Learning the basics. Fugggg. I hate the gym. I go in to lift, bike or run and get out. It is not the hair salon slash coffee shop and apparently those who attend my gym didn't get the memo. Here are your higlights: We...