Where loosers are the best.

I feel like there might be certain essences of truth in life. Clearly, man has evolved beyond the hunter/gatherer scenario, but there's still a certain respect in being the big guy. Whoever comes up to that guy, trying to show off or give him shit, could always just get the response: "Sure, you're a professional athlete. You train 345 days a year, just to be injured for the olympics. You're 22 and considered really cool. But when it comes down to it, I could still kick the shit out of you."

End of discussion. I mean, what do you say to that? After all, it's true. This fact lead me to thinking: What is that place where nobody feels cool, except total loosers? I've got it right here: The gym. 

Rem Koolhas could walk in there with a posse of David Bowie, Steve Jobs, Noam Chomsky and JK Rowling. Now, these are some of the most accomplished people on earth, but that simply does not matter. They would all feel like complete fairies, whilst quietly trying to benchpress like four pounds. I'm telling you, all that guilt is due to that dumb fucking gym-grin that they put on. People who go to the gym a lot(meaning they have a shitty job that allows them to do so), have this little grin that they make when small people put in their futile efforts at benchpressing the equivalent of a remote control. I don't think it's because they want us to feel bad, it's because it makes them feel even better. While performing this vile grin, I picture one of these three things going through their head:

1. Man, I'm so glad I'm like totally huge.

2. Why is my face moving on it's own?

3. Oh my god...it's Tom Cruise. I can't believe I'm bigger than the guy who played Batman.

And what is it about people who work at the gym/at a gymstore? I mean, they're not blatantly unpleasant or demeaning, but why do you always end up feeling like shit after talking to them? Here's how a conversation with gym-staff always seems to go:

Staff: Hello there.

You: Hi, I need some advice. I don't go to the gym very often, you see.

Staff: Yes. I do see that. *chuckles*

You: So, what do I do? I have done sports all of my life: Racketball, Tennis, Soccer etc.

Staff: Well, the first thing I'm going to do, is put you in the beginners program, that's the lowest of the low.

You: I have done some sports bef...

Staff: No, you've had hobbies. Hobbies are for fun. This is serious training. It takes time. Do you have a job?

You: Yes, I'm an aero nautical engineer. *smiling*

Staff: Get rid of it. You're going to the gym now.

You: *not smiling anymore*

Staff: How much do you want to weigh? You're about 170 cm, so you should weigh about 200 kg in pure muscle. Does that sound like something you can do?

You: Well, I was just planning on staying in shape...

Staff: Shapes are for killerwhales and graphic designers. Here we get buff. I'm going to sign you up for the elite package, it's 1000 dollars per month. So for a year, thats... Hey, engi-queer, do you have a calculator?

You: It makes 12 000 dollars.

Staff: Right, and that includes useage of our super-sonic-laser suntanning bed. That bad-boy will make you look like.... well, me. *dumb grin*

You: But I don't think I want to spend that mu...

Staff: Hey, let me tell you something. I can fuck anytime I want. I just flex these bad boys, and the ladies come running to my basement apartment around the corner. My dick doesn't seem to work anymore, but the point is that girls always want to come home with me. Why? Because I'm confident, sexy, and fucking massive. Don't you want those things? 

You: Well, I guess, but... *Looking at the floor*

Staff: That's the spirit. Elite package it is. When you're done, you won't even know you ever had a dick to begin with. Now, let's fucking do this. Here's your yellow spandex, courtesy of the institution. Change in the back. I'll call your job and quit for you. I'm also divorcing your wife.

You: Okay... *Takes the yellow spandex and tries to figure out how this happened*

What I'm trying to say is: Don't let the people at the gym get you down. At least you have a cool job, you have friends that don't look like hairless grizzly bears, and at least your dick doesn't need crutches.