Just TRY doing squats in a 4x4 room

Miercoles el 18

As the weather gets nicer, I become increasingly worse at updating. My apologies. If it makes you feel any better, I do have a great tan.

I think part of it also may have to do with the fact that I’m getting used to Spain. Not necessarily the people, but the country.

A great place I get to go to observe said Spaniards is Millennium gym here in Cádiz. I need to go to a gym in order to avoid gaining an extra 50 pounds, and it’s usually too hot to run outside, but whenever I’m there (with my trusty sidekick Paul), we usually just find ourselves getting enraged by all of the ridiculous Spaniards.

Spaniards are a delusional race. I’m convinced. Anyone who wakes up in the morning, puts on a pair of pants that make you look like you pooped your diaper, match your shoes to your shirt to your belt to your purse, poof up your mullet with blunt bangs, and then proceed to look at yourself in the mirror and say “DAMN, I look good, I’m gonna go take on the day now,” has mental issues. They will never look good. They probably shouldn’t take on the day until their hair grows out.

Millennium gym is where the worst of the worst gather on the daily. The bad Spaniards times two. I’m talking ultimate pichas, who are forced to start growing their first mullet/fohawk/rat tail as soon as they leave the womb, and the angry bitchy Spanish women who aren’t actually allowed to leave the womb unless they have a chip on their shoulder. On top of this, the men all have really disproportionate huge muscles, so it looks like they’re smuggling a rolled up mattress on their shoulders that can’t be supported by their little chicken legs. They don’t care, they still think they’re shit don’t stink. If you don’t believe that, simply look at their bicep, where you will find their name tattooed, and you can ask them, “Excuse me, Nacho, I know you’re busy working on ONLY your arms this year, but how cool are you?!”

The women are almost worse. Even if you can find their name tattooed on their lower back surrounded by roses in a tribal design, don’t ask them if they think their shit don’t stink. They are an angry breed. This only makes it even harder for me to not laugh at them. When women go to the gym here, first things first, sports bras are for pussies. You need to wear a wonderbra to bike for 10 minutes, and then struggle with the hip adductor/abductor for another 20. I swear to you, I’ve never seen one wear a sports bra, and I know, because their bras and boobs are always hanging out. It gets funnier though, and harder to not laugh. They usually show up with full jewelry/makeup, hair done, and somehow manage to transfer their “style” over to “workout clothes.” The most common outfit you’re likely to see is a pair of stretch pants, colored or grey (grey is a big no-no if you’re sweating, ESPECIALLY pants. You’re just asking for buttcrack sweat. But they don’t sweat at the gym, because they don’t actually work out, so it’s ok I guess…), a shirt from baby gap or osh kosh b’gosh (made for a 4-year-old, this is why you can see their boobs and push up bras) that’s usually rolled up? Hoop earrings, and really, REALLY weird tennis shoes, usually of the Peter Pan fashion, or high tops. It’s very confusing. I’m just trying to get rid of my fat ass, and these women are trying to…dear God I have no idea what they’re trying to do. It’s even more confusing to try and figure out why the hell they're at the gym in the first place. My conclusion is trying to attract Spanish guys. If that’s the case, and if Spanish guys are ACTUALLY attracted to that, then shit. Match made in heaven I guess.

Bottom line is, Spain, stop trying to work out. You have the highest rate of eating disorders and smokers in the world, yet somehow have a longer life expectancy than us. Don’t ruin the one American type thing that Paul and I have here in Spain.

Until then, I’ll continue to be baffled. Marisa tells me that when I get frustrated with Spanish people (which happens, like, all of the time), I have a very violent face. I can only hope it’s violent enough to make some of the picha masters and angry Spanish women think twice about going in to Millennium gym that day.

Paz afuera.