Sweaty Boxers

Sounds delicious, doesn't it?

Well, now let's put it into perspective. Master P and I decided that we were going to start trying to more religiously doing some sort of athletic activity. (Even if it is not swimsuit season, there are certain hibernating techniques that only our furry friends should engage in - storing fat). So we've vowed to go to the gym more often.

It's ironic actually -- we half decided to live where we do because there is a gym on site. Given the fact that the gym is not in our apartment complex is my excuse for never going before. Anyway - back to the story.

So we went - sweat a ton and felt good. We repeated the next day. Which, by the way was far more difficult than the day beforehand. Now this is where our story goes from being G rated to near X. Master P and I are cranking away at our selective machines, when low and behold, enter another residence.

What I am about to say from this point on is the gosh awful truth.

A small framed man enters into the gym. He is eating a cookie. He does a quick scope of the scene and puts his bags down in the middle aisle, between the two rows of machines. (In other words, he puts his things down where anyone on any machine has full view of what he is about to do -- thank goodness P and I were the only ones in the room).

He proceeds to take off his boots and put them in a plastic bag, perhaps the same one that had the bag of cookies in it. Who knows? What happens next nearly caused me to either a) fall off my machine or b) piss in my pants. He took his jeans off. He took his jeans off and then proceeded to fold them up. Mind you, there is a bathroom in the entrance way. So here he stands in his checkered boxers. P and I exchange glances, trying not to laugh out loud.

Instead of them putting on a pair of track shorts OVER the boxers - stringy man sits down (yes - sits down in a room full of mirrors!!!) and laces up his running shoes. He does all of this without thinking that there may be other people in the room. Well, once the shoes are on - he jumps on the treadmill and starts running.

Two thoughts cross my mind.
1) He is not afraid to let it all hang out - he is comfortable with his manhood.
2) He must not be packing much, because I would imagine as a male it is not very comfortable to run free balling it.

Upon consulting with Master P, we concluded that it would have to be the later.

Never a dull moment in this life. Never a dull moment.

* I thought I could chalk the experience up as never wanting to go to gym again and to continue with my blissful lazy streak. I have opted to refrain from giving up on working out. Maybe next week someone will be lifting weights in a thong! *