HumanityCritic's time at Bally's

I have a friend named Chris who currently is dating a woman named Pat. I feel bad because when I first met her I used to joke to Chris that she reminded me of the non gender specific character on Saturday Night Live named "Pat", where everyone was always trying to figure out whether "it" was a man or a woman. It didn't help her case that she has a deep voice, a Navy tattoo on her upper arm, and she can beat Chris in a arm wrestling match.(I beat her though, it was a bit of a struggle, I must admit) It got so bad that when we were all out together I would ask to see her birth certificate, or stare at her throat for minutes at a time with Chris watching, Pat not knowing of my immature inside joke about me questioning her gender. Well, because Karma is a bitch, Pat turned out to be cool so all my jokes about her possibly having testicles has left me feeling rather stupid. Pat has taken a liking to me, even trying to hook me up with one of her friends. Unfortunately, through a single night, I found out that this blind date was not only a kleptomaniac(I am missing a couple of CD's), but she is also a stalker and an all around jackass to boot. Pat felt so bad about this so she did the only thing she could think of to make up for it, she gave me a month's pass to Bally's. I thought it was a strange present at first, especially considering that I already have a membership to the YMCA, but at the end of the day I figured that I would at least have something interesting to blog about. Boy was I right. Here is my month's worth of experiences at Bally's. compressed into one day.

The Weight Room: When I first entered the weight room all I could think about is how different it was to the YMCA. At the "Y", you have individuals who you would think would be in there, overweight people trying to shed some pounds to have a healthier life. Not at Bally's, even though there are some overweight people sprinkled here and there, it was mostly people who were there to impress the other douchebags in close proximity. The women looked like they were about to audition as a extra on the "O.C." and shit, and the men, even though they looked like they hadn't taken a healthy shit since 1997, looked like muscular ballet dancers because of the extremely too tight spandex pants they were wearing. Plus, I don't know if any of you are like me, but if the music in a establishment is shitty I can't really function properly. This one time I entered a pool tournament, and I know I played horribly because they blasted country and western music the whole time.(I guess it didn't help matters when I said, "Can you West Virginians stop fucking your sister for one minute, and turn that shit-kicking music off") The first day I couldn't help but notice that people kept staring at me. Was it because they weren't used to a dreadlocked black man being so close to them while they worked out? Was it because my "realness" oozed out of my pours, and that mere fact threatened their silicon and "Hair club for men's" world?(Looking down at shirt) Oh, it was because I was wearing a "I Like Bush: The Pussy not the asshole president" t-shirt, ala the great movie "Harold and Kumar go to White castle". Shit, you red stater's can be so fucking touchy sometimes.

People in the Weightroom: Jerry is a 55 year old man who looks like he should be on the cover of a muscle magazine. The guy has a heart of gold, very nice, and he was willing to show me some work-out techniques that he uses. I told you before, for some reason I am one of those people that individuals feel that they can pour their heart out to. Jerry not only told me that he hadn't had an erection in three years(Too much fucking information), but that his wife left him and took the kids with her. Every time he mentioned his kids he started to tear up and get a lump in his throat, prompting me to give a 55 year old muscle bound freak with spandex so tight you could see the veins in his penis a hug.(I am such a big pussy) He also told me that he is losing his house, and a whole bunch of other depressing shit. It got so bad that I actually told him,"Fuck Jerry, I don't know if I'm working out or watching a goddamned Lifetime movie of the week. But I know I'm not watching a Lifetime movie because I don't see a woman getting her ass beaten." , which made him laugh. Even though I only did the Bally's thing for a while, I really Hope I see Jerry again.

Mark is the walking and talking reason of why I want to get married. He is 42 but he thinks that he is still 22. For one thing all he talked about was his car and his ability to pick up women. When we were spotting each other I thought I was just going to sit back and observe him, but when he pulled that "You are pretty cool for a black guy" shit I decided to fuck with him. When he would talk for minutes at a time about women and all the sex he has I said, "You know Mark, the only type of guys who talk about women as much as you do are either guys who aren't getting it, or gays guys who are closeted, which one are you??" He quickly said, "I feel the same way, guys lie all the time bro." This stupid motherfucker wasn't even aware that I was insulting him, lets try this again. Later when he was talking about his car's big engine, his big house, and his "monster" big screen TV I said, "You know when guys obsess with big things they are either trying to overcompensate for a low I.Q., or an incredibly small penis." He laughed and said, "Yeah, that is so true." Fuck, I would love to think he was being sarcastic and choosing not to address my insults, but he actually wasn't getting it. I walked away to go upstairs to the aerobics room.

Aerobics Room: I started off on the wrong foot with the aerobics instructor before I even set foot inside Bally's. You see, when I was walking from my car to the building, a beautiful black woman passed me with roller skates on and wearing extremely tiny shorts. I meant to only THINK this but I actually said, "I haven't gotten an erection from seeing a black girl wearing roller skates since seeing Tootie from "Facts of Life" and shit." She turned around and gave me a "You're such an asshole" look, a glance that I am all but too familiar with. Anyway, that ebony goddess that invokes mass erections happened to be my aerobics instructor that day. As soon as she saw me she gave me an evil smile which scared the shit out of me. We were doing that Slide aerobic thing, which I thought was so easy I actually said, "I am going to tear this shit up!!" Ten minutes later, the only thing I was tearing up was my will to live, as I was breathing heavier than Bill O'Reilly on the phone with a staff member. She actually came around to me, whispered in my ear and said, "You aren't so smart now!! What's wrong pussy!? Work! Work!" I should have been embarrassed, but her putting me down actually got me excited and motivated to give it all I had.(Hope that doesn't lead to me getting a dominatrix and being her leather clad man servant.) Minutes later that was over, let me run a few laps on the track.

The Track: Let me start by saying the track smelled like a combination of a Bum's nutsack and old cheese left out on 100 degree weather. I started off jogging at first, until this 80 year old man named Abe passed me and gave me a "You are a pathetic black bastard" look on his face. I am a competitor, fuck that, so I pushed passed people to beat this elderly fuck. I caught up to him, smiled, and raced passed him like I was Carl Lewis in his prime.(Minus the Jheri curl, bad national anthem singing, and ultra feminine ways) I felt good, "I used to run track motherfucker"(albeit 1991) I thought as I kept laping the old man. After I laped him a few times I caught a leg cramp that dropped like a sack of potatoes. I limped to the side and rubbed my leg to see if I could work the cramp out, then I see the old man passing my lifeless body, waiving at me like he is in a parade. To add insult to injury, each time he passed me he would say shit like "Get your ass up son", "You're still down?", or my personal favorite, "I never knew a vagina could have dreadlocks." I screamed, "Just because you wear a adult diaper doesn't mean I won't whip your ass old man!!" Let me take my wounded ass to the Pool.

The Pool: I go to the locker room and I feel like I'm in High School all over again. I never understood how some men feel comfortable walking around you, even having conversations with you while they are butt naked. I changed into my swimming trunks and this man named Brad approaches me, naked to the world, and says, "Did you happen to see who won the Yankees game??" I swear, to be naked he was standing entirely too close to me. I quickly said, "They won. 4 to 2.(Pointing my finger) Go that way!!!" He comes closer and says, "What's the matter?" I said, "Man, if you don't carry your ass. Beat it! Scram! Get the Fuck on! Or like my uncle in South Carolina says, "Go'ne nah!!"(Which is actually "go on now", just country-fied) He looked confused and walked away. I went to the pool, considered swimming, but a few factors halted my progress. 1. Chlorine would absolutely do major damage to my locks.(I think) 2:Even though I look uber sexy in my snoopy swimming trunks, I shouldn't over exert myself in one day. 3. I had a sudden germaphobe moment, and just evisioned all the dirty bastards who are currently swimming and probably pissing in this pool as we speak. So I grabbed my towel, went back in the locker room and tried to avoid "let me talk to you naked while my penis is pointed in your direction" Brad, grabbed my shit and said to myself "let me get my black ass out of Bally's!"