Denim Douche: Locker room heebie jeebies

Friday, January 23, 2009

Locker room heebie jeebies

I'd like to start this entry by calling out my readers. Yes, that's right. You're mine. I've been luring you in with subliminal messages for weeks now. Although to be honest, the.. umm.. liminal messages are pretty fucking awesome too. Liminal should be a word, thus I will use it despite its nonsensical nature. At the bar last night, I was approached by several bright-eyed fans, fans I didn't even know were fans. I think people who enjoy this blog need their own name. I will call you Cronies. Anyway, I was approached by Cronies and was thrilled to find out that the word is getting around. So thank you. I need to invest in a hit counter on this motherfucker so I know how many people are actually reading this shit. Pardon my French. Just wait until the subliminal messages inspire you to incite riots. So, people, keep it coming. Don't lurk in anonymity. Announce your Cronie-hood.

One quirk I've become quite fond of in writing this blog, this manifesto on living life properly, is the intro paragraph that has nothing to do with the main focus of the post. In this case, the futility has extended into the second paragraph. Every word you're currently reading is completely inconsequential. In fact, you're probably better off not reading it. It's extraneous. I'll ramble on semi-coherently and then start the next paragraph with "Anyway," followed by me getting to the point. I wish I had a toothpick to get this popcorn out of my goshdarned bicuspids.

Anyway, I went to the gym today. But wait, there's more. So, I'm not much of a locker room type of guy. I push the door open, and what the hell! There's half-naked dudes everywhere. It fucking stinks like sweat. I don't want to be in this place. For whatever reason, though, everyone else seems totally comfortable. Everyone is shirtless, chatting it up, having a grand ol' time, in no rush to get on with their workout. The locker room, to me, is a means to an end. I get changed there so I can leave. Apparently to everyone else, it is a sweat-drenched social Mecca.

In fact, in an effort not to belabor the point in the locker room, I wear what I'm going to work out in UNDER my sweats. What a novel idea. So in short, I pull off my sweatshirt and sweatpants and I'm good to go. I avoid changing my T-shirt because I don't want all the other guys to get jealous and cry due to my washboard abs. So at this point, there's an old dude changing to my left. Fast fact: at any given point, there are as many old guys in the locker room as there are on all the courts and exercise equipment combined. Old guys fucking love the locker room. I guess that's where they all go when they stop paying their dues for the Rotary club or something.

But this is what you may not know, ladies. Old guys get full-on ass naked in the locker room. All the time. Out in the open. No towel, no stall. They just continue their conversations and make no effort to dress quickly. Haven't these guys ever seen a prison movie? Shit, here I am taking off my sweatpants with my ass touching the lockers behind me so that no one sticks their fingers in my butt, and these old guys are just doing the wang-out hangout. According to my sources in the female world, old ladies do not get butt-naked in the locker room. But then again, I don't see nearly as many old ladies as old men in the gym. Perhaps they have different solutions for re-living their youth. Crocheting? Ironing? Who knows.

This really isn't new. It's just that I had the blog on the mind after my ego-boosting experiences at the bar. (Tying the first paragraph back into the main point? 50 points. I guess it's not completely extraneous after all.) Literally every time I go into the locker room, there's a naked old dude. Possibly two. Oh, I don't search them out. They're right fucking there. Usually right when I open the door. Seriously, if you planned on getting completely stark naked, would you choose the locker RIGHT behind the door? Me neither. It's like these old dudes really want us to see their ass-tattoos from their Navy days. No, I didn't see an ass-tattoo, but that doesn't mean there wasn't one. I try not to look. Young guys get naked too sometimes, but it seems to only be swimmers. Fucking weirdos. Michael Phelps, eat your heart out.



God damned swimmers.

Anywhere else in society, if you see a naked old man, you're probably going to freak out. But in the locker room, there are no rules. I wonder if I just started pissing all over the floor, would anybody say anything? I'm telling you, this place is ass-backwards. Can we invest in like, a curtain? Stand behind the curtain when you drop trou, Chet. No exposed balls past this point, Walter. I guess that's the best suggestion I have to end the insanity of the elderly and the nude. (Great title for the Denim Douche movie, I have to say. Or maybe the sequel. DD 2: The Elderly and the Nude.) I just had to get it off my chest.

If any girls want to provide details on how things operate in the ladies' locker room (Hot, steamy details), or have information on the goings on of the old-lady locker room faithful, leave a comment or write something on facebook. I mean, I assume the majority of girls do those crazy Houdini tricks where they can take off or put on a bra or underwear under like half a dozen layers, but are there some weird exhibitionists who just whip 'em out? Are they also swimmers? Why do swimmers love to be naked? Do you enjoy my blatant profiling? I actually am curious about this shit. I'm fucked in the head.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

At my old gym there was a 60ish lady who liked to avoid towels completely and showered at the gym everyday. My favorite was how she would keep her shower shoes on while she air dried, applied makeup and -- if the prancing around wasn't awkward -- blow dry her hair bending over. And in case you're curious, no, she didn't employ the same ass-positioning method that you swear by dear brother. When she did wear clothes, she wore the Jane Fonda special -- thong over bike shorts. I bet her husband was that guy you saw by the door.

Dave said...

Once a man enters the elderly stage in his life, which is 65, he has mandatory “old guy things” he must do. First and foremost he must purchase a Lincoln, Buick, or Cadillac. He most also own at least one pair of flannel slacks and have hard candies with him at all times. These are just a few “old guy things”, and being naked in the locker room as you mentioned is "old guy thing" numero uno.