Gym, Tan, Laundry

I was a responsible adult today! I made a to-do list and set out to complete my tasks with my goal in mind, my clothes inside-right and a flawless plan. I was going to stand tall and be confident. Gym, tan, laundry-- TODAY WAS MY DAY!

 (speedos sold seperately)

You'll never regret clean laundry.

Just The Facts

  1. Know what a gym is before going to one
  2. Tan lines are better than scaring the neighbours
  3. Read the instructions on the washing machine before doing your very first load of laundry.
  4. Never do anything ever.


I woke up with enthused, athletic thoughts of going to the gym for the first time today. It was going to be exactly like on tv, with all the buff bodybuilders lifting ginormous weights and running on top of the line treadmills for hours on end barely breaking a sweat. I was totally confident I would outdo most of them.
I strode up to Rex's Gym with my new gymbag in hand filled with Kit Kat bars and feeling the burn already. My excitement mounted as I wrestled my way through the broken automatic door.

"Your automatic door is broken," I breathlessly reported to the man at the counter.
He looked at me admiringly for being such an upstanding citizen.
"It isn't an automatic door."

I dragged my gymbag across the gritty tiles and had a couple Kit Kats, because after all of that, I think I deserved a treat. I changed into shorts and entered the weight room. It was empty except for a balding man leaning against the wall watching the television.
I chose a mid sized dumbell and--

It didn't move.

I looked at it suspiciously. Haha. Really hilarious. Like the glue trick wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

I picked up one that was considerably smaller, but most certainly heavier than the booby trapped one. I lifted it elbow height three times. Then I went back to the change rooms hardly daunted and finished the rest of my Kit Kats.


After that bleak little experience, I decided to do the second thing on my list; tan! Tanning has to be one of the easiest activies ever. It requires exactly no work. All you have to do is lie there in the warmth of the shining sun and maybe flip over a couple times.
So I went home and got right to work. I stripped off my outer clothes, my under clothes, my flesh colored bodystocking, my other underclothes and some stickers to hold everything in place, then I went out onto my splintery porch to expose my pasty, sardine-like body to the radiation of the sun.

Oh. God.

Let me say, tanning is definitely easy, but for cetain individuals, it is easier to burn than tan. And burn I did. I was thinking more along the lines of 'tacky-salesperson", or "gameshow host". Not "boiled and buttered".

I gingerly coated my skin in a layer of store-bought green jello that did not taste like jello and was called Aloe vera gel and as carefully as possible put on clothing. I waved out the window to my neighbours who were staring transfixed at my porch with funny looks on their faces. Perhaps I left a towel out there.


I've seen countless movies where the washing machine begins to arbitrarily eject froth. That did not happen. In fact, nothing bad at all happened until I put my wash load into the dryer.

I was almost scraping for dirty laundry in my house so I could complete my list and feel fulfilled. I ended up washing all of my bedding instead, which included a green, fringed blanket made of something weird. Something weird and flammable.


I panicked and evacuated my house, covered in aloe vera gel and crunchy and immovable from the sun. I was the embodiment of shame when the fire department came, frowningly, to put out my utility room blaze, which wasn't as bad as I imagined it to be, apparently.

I think perhaps for everyone's benefit I should give up all of this "responsibility" rubbish. And tanning. And going to the gym. Because those things are just bad. Let this be a warning to all of you. BAD.