"Excuses are the nails that build the house failure."

Paul Bunyan's Beard

Swing low.  Sweet chariots.

Swing low. Sweet chariots.

This topic stares back at me much like an old, leathery set of nuts at the athletic club.  Which, as luck would have it, is exactly what's spurred this subject.

I'd like to think I'm an observant person.  The male locker room amuses me to no end.  You've got your tested veterans and your timid rookies.  You can learn quite a bit about a person just by their actions in the washroom of all washrooms.

Picture with me, if you will.  We've got our vets out there.  They've been through almost everything and the attitude reflects as much.  More than likely they've taken the best a woman has to offer, both good and bad.  They've probably been in a war.  Hell I'm sure most up to this point have been under the knife for one reason or another.  They just don't care.  Reckless abandon.  They're like the giraffes at the zoo.  'No, please.  Go marvel at the lion and gorilla exhibits all day.  We're gonna hold down the fort here and just keep mowing through this grass and hay.'  

These living dinosaurs just let the ball bags HANG.  It's remarkable.  Not only are the twig n' berries out on display but these gentlemen take their time through the entire process of preparing to head back into the 'real world'.  Kinda seems like none of them ever want to leave, which, can you blame them?  Remind you of the good ol' days?  The Garden of Eden.  Remember that place?  Of course you don't.  We were banned.  Just had to tempt us with forbidden fruit (which you still do to this day) didn't you ladies?  So while we've been subjected to the rules of modern time we SHOULD be frolicking around beautiful Gardens playing bad-mitten and croquet completely and comfortably BUTT ASS NAKED.  Shifting gears....

Back to our walking nude artifacts who if nothing else remind us of a simpler time.  They're crazy.  Disregard is of the highest priority.  I've seen sink counter tops used as resting places for a dong while teeth are being brushed.  Not sure what the layout of your gym locker room looks like but ours contains blow dryers.  You'd think for hair, right?  Hell no.  None of them have any hair left anyway....at least not on their heads.  Those things are used more often than not for nut-sacks and butt-cracks....(which rhymes.  Dare I feel a Doctor Seuss book developing??).  Have you ever walked into a room where MORE than one person has a blow dryer angled upside down toward the sky just blasting away on a set of wet chaos?  I have.  It's goofy as all hell.  Makes you hold onto your youth as tightly as their Poligrip holds onto their dentures.

                                         Tobius Funke.  The original 'Never Nude'.             

                                        Tobius Funke.  The original 'Never Nude'.            

Whatever zany crap these guys are pulling they do it making no apologies, with no regret, no remorse and for that they are just plain bad ass.  And now onto their counterparts.  The 'never-nude' Tobius Funkes of the world.  The 'I'm going to wear my  bathing suit into the shower because I'm embarrassed'....

....Or because I'm scared, or weird or who the hell knows what else.  All I know is that you either belong in the other locker room or maybe you need to just take this pathetic circus act to the comforts of your own home.  Has your wife ever even seen you naked?  Sorry, but it begs the question.  What the hell is wrong with you?  

We're all men.  We've all got a chest of family jewels clinging to our hammer.  Get over it.  I guess you could be homophobic.  Which, if you are, you're an asshole.  If there's a gay guy in the locker room I HIGHLY doubt he's attracted to your sad middle-age physique and even if he were you're not going to get hit on in a freakin' gym locker room.  So that one's off the table.  Maybe you're packing a grub worm.  A case of the tuna can?  You have a choad.  Who cares?  I will tell you comfortably that on a good day I'm stacked medium at best.  Remember, it's not the size of the ship.  It's the motion of the ocean.  And anyone who says otherwise while holding that shit-eating smirk is self-conscious as all hell.   There's also a good chance they drive a giant Dodge or Ford pickup to compensate for their own tiny wieners.  

I suppose what troubles me most about these frightened turtles is that their numbers are more consistent from MY age group on down.  Men in their 30s!  Ya kidding me?!  Grow up.  The Tooth Fairy isn't real.  Girls actually DO poop and you're being a bitch.  Maybe I'm crazy.  Do I sound crazy?  I'm just used to it.  I've been showering naked my whole life because I just assumed that's what ya did.  From day one.  Showers = nude.  I remember gym class, wondering what was wrong with kids, while about 6 of us would be showering naked as the day we were born.  The rest just looked on in terrified wonder, draped in the security of their bathing suits.  Odd.  Just weird.

Well after all of that rambling I think I'm just as curious as ever.  Curious as to what one of these old relics might do next with a blow dryer.  Curious as to why a grown man feels he needs to hide the very thing every other guy in the locker room has dangling between his legs.  Curious how one of these jabronies can spend an entire workout staring at himself in the mirror yet can't muster enough courage to drop trow around a bunch of old dudes who could not give two shits.  Mostly due to the fact that it's trapped inside their Depends.

So grow up men!  Enjoy the perks of being one naked SOB around people besides your significant other.  Who cares!  Get out there.  Just be mindful of how close that blow dryer gets to your bird eggs.

 

 

 

   

 

Set it & Forget it.

Set it & Forget it.

Bang Me!

Bang Me!

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