Anyone smart would do the smart thing and just change gyms, but lets just say at this point it's become... survival of the fittest. You can cut the tension with a knife.. and.... if looks could kill, we're playing Russian Roulette.
The good news is, I immediately become so much more athletic when he's stepped into the room. Like "yeah you big stupid meat head.. you can't run!" And I amp up the speed on the treadmill. Literally attempting to kill myself.
Where one meat head goes, the rest will follow.
This is completely true. They congregate to each other. Like there's something to be said for them standing there comparing their juice induced muscles. Look at how much I can squat.. my roids are better than yours. I think they'd start peeing on the work out equipment if they could.
Well... completely irritated that he interrupted my workout, for the 2nd time this week, I decided to do the completely mature thing and pick the machine right next to him and his shoulder workout. I have NEVER used this machine... ever. Thank the good lord for the little pictures.... like paint by numbers. I had a point to prove, and apparently that was that I was going to make his life as miserable as possible.
Let me also just insert here that he makes the most ridiculous work-out faces EVER. Apparently he never looks in the mirror while lifting. I think he should. He looks like a constipated pug. Scrunched nose and everything. And... had I not been so focused on shoulder pressing 40 more pounds than I'm physically capable of.. I probably would have done the next mature thing and copied each face in strategic - "you look like a complete idiot" order.
I guess I made him uncomfortable enough, he flexed all the way into the free weight room, and me.. feeling completely accomplished gathered my smart water, waved goodbye to the rest of the sausage fest... and left.
I can't wait for tomorrow when I can't turn my head.
Me: 1 Meat Head: 0
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