Shrugs: Why Do I Go To The Gym?


Shrugs, Proof That Humans Don’t Know They Are The Punchline

Shrugs are a silly exercise that requires humans to grab far more weight than they can comfortably lift and then proceed to repeatedly shrug. As if to answer the questions they silently ask themselves, “Why did I grab so much weight, why do I do this to myself, and wait, do I make that face during sex?”

In Order To Look Good, You Have To Look Stupid

This is essentially the gyms unspoken mantra. In order to look good, you have to look stupid. Cross your arms and fold in half! Squat then explode up while thrusting your pelvis forward. Heck, just lay on your back, put a weight on your hips, and thrust, thrust, thrust.

Things that come up, must come down. Something is always coming in or going out. Such is life at the gym. Shrugs are absolutely no different. If one does shrugs in front of the mirror, which surprise, everything is done in front of the mirrors – except for treadmills because gym owners don’t have an intentional sense of humor – one is in for a life-altering experience.

A Lovecraftian View of The Seven Faces of Orgasm, Yours Specifically

It’s like looking into the pit of madness itself. If you truly love yourself and are not in love with yourself keep reading. If this doesn’t fit your description, perhaps you should stop. You may not possess the mental and emotional fortitude to survive.

As any good narcissist can tell you, looking at yourself in the mirror during sex is interesting. Although, most of us don’t find it interesting in the same manner a narcissist does. Something also tells me that many of us don’t finish while looking our mirror-selves dead in the eye.

That’s why shrugs were invented. Faces change with each subsequent shrugging of shrugs. Like a skateboarder doing a different rad trick each time they come out of the halfpipe. All of the expressions you make during sex are there and you don’t know about a single damn one:

  • The Macho Teeth Grit
  • The Whimsical Smirk
  • The Look To The Left
  • The Ho-Ho-Ho, What’s This (interrobang)
  • Open Mouth McClosed Eyes
  • The Meaningful Tilt
  • The Hey There Lassie, or Laddie.
  • The Eyebrow Raise That’s Reminiscent of The Rock
  • The Eyebrow Raise That’s More Common and Reminiscent of Eugene Levy
  • The Very Special Episode
  • The Nyuck-Nyuck-Nyuck
  • And The Wakka-Wakka

While, in the heat of the moment, these expressions may pass quickly and can be easily missed. Mistaken for a trick of the eyes. All of your lovers have caught glimpses of them. Now, each expression is completely explorable and can be broken down on each agonizing shrug. If one isn’t driven mad and has an ounce of humility, surely, they will laugh. Then the biggest challenge is not dropping a weight or pulling something.

 


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Fat Beach

 There my wife and I were, watching the sun slowly sink behind the trees while standing in Lost Lake. My stones skipping mere millimeters away from the mountain chilled water and instead choosing the arid sanctuary of my brand new electric blue swimming trunks. Tadpoles danced around our legs. Kids frolicked and dared one another to do cannonballs off the dock. Good looking people were sure to do yoga and try to walk across a multipurpose tight rope and dolly strap. Everything was right with the world except for one thing.

 We had taken the extended and mostly uphill way to Lost Lake. It was hot. As my hands slowly slid down to the hem of my navy blue American Apparel 50/50, some tanned bro, sans shirt, would come wizzing by us and I would lose all enthusiasm to pull that shirt over my head.

  Due to duress or perhaps the toxic sea urchin – whom was also vacation at Lost Lake –  I was standing on, I had a vision. Albeit, not a very attractive one. Fat Beach or for you Vancouver folk, Train Wreck Beach. Regardless of the name, it will be a sandy solace segregating socially scorned souls from the young good looking people. A place where all the pudgy, hairy, pale, scrawny people of the world can go. A place where the taut, waxed, tanned, muscled people cannot.

  A place where lanky wooden fences covered in climb deterring splinters separate us from those good lookin’ bastards. George Castanza like lifeguards will shoo away any Brangelinas and ensure that none of us get cramps after eating at the pizza buffet. Instead of weights, we will have video games. In addition to showers, there will be a slime pit that goops the occupier with SPF 30+ sunscreen. Can you imagine? No taut bodies running to and fro, just the out of shape milling about. No tan people getting even more tan, just the human salamanders lying there while burning alive. That isn’t yoga, that person is trying to stand up or maybe sit down – honestly it is a little difficult to tell if they are coming or going. Regardless, they are accepted and loved at Fat Beach, just like the red heads.