I went to the gym at lunch with a headache.
I hate Doritos. I can't even stomach the smell to try to get them passed my lips.
What do Doritos have to do with they gym, you ask?
Well, gross smells would be the first thing. And the guy who worked out next to me today.
A guy came in, jumped on the machine next to me and the assault on all of my delicate parts began.
He reeked of Doritos. Immediately, my stomach started churning and my head reminded me that it was there and controlling my ability to function today and thumped in protest. Still, I powered on.
Then he started sweating. I do not know if he had eaten so many Doritos that it was oozing out of his pores or if Dorito dust just creates a film over one's flesh that intensifies the stench of everything trying to escape one's body, but I was certain I was going to add to the nightmare by losing my breakfast.
I gave up. I walked away. He won the workout wars today. I cut it short and let him savor his stinky victory. On the machine right next to mine. Because he couldn't have have opted for any of the others that were open for at least ten machines down and not right next to me.
Oh yes, he was the victor today. But I will remember. And I do hold a grudge. And I have a disturbing imagination.
