Bring on the Barbies!

In the past I have regaled you all with the Barbie stories, ie the people at my gym. I have a few more for you.
Carrot Barbie, as in 'She must have a carrot up her ass to be that much of a bitch!' She's an older lady who is rather carrot-y complexioned, clearly from too much sun exposure. I am sure that I will soon have to upgrade her to Handbag Barbie. She exudes as much personality as a cold peeled potato and clearly has a chip on her shoulder the size of 55 centimeter fit ball. She has no common courtesy, she doesn't hold doors, say please or thank you, or wipe her sweat off a machine. It's safe to say that I don't like her so much.

I know I have given all of the girls Barbie names, which means I should give the guy Ken ones, but I haven't. Maybe I'll start.

Drippy Ken. I noticed him today, he was on a treadmill wearing a plastic bag under a windbreaker jacket. He was really red faced and looking a little weak, I wondered if he was about to pass out and if the resulting ambulance drivers would be hot. He didn't pass out. I did see him again as I was leaving the gym, he walked by me on his way to the change rooms, and there was sweat dripping from his finger tips, it made 2 paths of sweat, one on either side of him cutting a swath across the black floor to the treadmill he was on. I wanted to stop him and remind him that as soon as he drank some water all of the weight he just lost, would come back. I didn't though, I was frightened by his sweat. It was running down his fingers, you couldn't see the rest of him, as he was wrapped in plastic, one would assume for freshness. I think if he would have stopped it would have pooled and that would be not pleasant. Besides actively avoiding his sweat I was hoping that he wiped down the treadmill when he left, I can only imagine the mess that was left.

Now all that being said, the moral of this story is: Wipe away your nastiness people!

Tomorrow I will tell you all about the trainers at the gym! Now that should be interesting!