You're doing it wrong

Dear weird 20-something-year-old bro I always see at the gym,

Every time I see you you’re running like a madman on the elliptical. Uh, the elliptical? Isn’t that a chick machine? I mean, I’m a chick and even I feel like a total fag when I’m on the elliptical. You’re always sweating really hard too, even though I once took a stealthy peek at the screen on your machine and…you are exercising at level one. Level one on the elliptical. I probably exert the same amount of energy sitting on the couch yelling at the TV for the rest of the Real Housewives to stop ganging up on Bethany. So stop grunting and panting, because it’s obvious your body is under zero stress considering you are doing the lowest-impact cardio on the lowest level possible on the gayest exercise machine ever invented. And really, what makes you think we want to hear you sing whatever bullshit song you’re listening to OUT LOUD? Do the words “gym etiquette” mean anything to you? No, seriously, elliptical bro, do you have some sort of social disorder? Actually, fuck it, that wouldn’t even be an excuse. I’ve actually started planning my visits to the gym around when you’re going to be “working out” just to make sure I’m not there to hear your ridiculous Ray Romano voice and see you sweating like a coke-head in a coke factory on free coke day. Just, please, get your shit together. I’m only trying to help-- you’re never gonna get laid if you keep doing it wrong.

xo

Lock the grown-ups out

Maude had the right idea, as far as swallowing death pills on her 80th birthday, because what the fuck is there to do once you’re 80? You’ve done everything you’re going to do, and if you still WANT to do anything, you basically have to succumb to the fact that it “ain’t gon’ happen, honayyy” because you are in the process of, quite literally, shrinking down to the cold, dark earth from whence you came. But I digress...

Maude had basically the right idea, only her timing was a bit off (is what I should’ve said). I’d probably take the death pills around oh I don’t know 40? 45? Mostly because I hate middle-aged people and I never want to become one. What the FUCK, middle-aged people? What is your DAMAGE?! You are so fat and lumpy and GRUMPY all the goddamn time, and I know why: it’s because you’re jealous I can apply liquid eyeliner without my hands shakin’ all over the place, and you’re jealous of my shiny hair and wide-eyed stare and youthful glow or spirit or some bullshit--fuck, I don’t know. And I DON’T CARE. It’s not my fault I’m in my early 20s and, theoretically, have my whole life ahead me. It’s not MY fault I can binge-drink with no next-morning repercussions, and I can spend all my money on drugs and cardigans and diet tonic water. It’s not my fucking fault! SO STOP TAKING IT OUT ON ME. FUCK OFF, MIDDLE-AGED PEOPLE. GET THE FUCK OVER IT (via ingesting copious amounts of death pills so I don’t have to deal with ya’lls bullshit baggage plz). I mean, Christ, why can’t everyone age as gracefully as Bill Murray?

p.s. my boss is a dick.