Poseurs
There was a multi-gym in the gym I used a while back, ran on compressed air - ie: plug it in, pressurised gas provides the resistance you push / pull against. Without the pressure (and power) it was like lifting a cup of tea. It was a piece of shit, as it was always breaking down.

Anyways, minding my own business one day when this thing was absolutely broken beyond repair (and requiring as much effort as tying your shoelaces to "pump iron"), when some bloke comes in, makes a great deal of noise warming up, then sits on this thing (broken, remember - and offering no resistance) and proceeds to huff and puff for the next _ten_full_minutes_ as though he's deadlifting two small cars. Then he dismounts, gives himself a gun-show in the mirror, and walks out.

Alternately there's the two blokes who come in wearing cycle shorts, who then remove their t-shirts and faff about doing nothing of any import, save leaving sweaty marks all over every bit of kit in the place. It's like Bronski Beat suddenly decided to join a keep-fit regime.

Cavalcade of freakery and wonders..
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Sun 12 Jul 2009, 11:49, 1 reply)

*click*
for the last sentence alone. The penultimate one's pretty clickworthy, too...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Sun 12 Jul 2009, 14:52, closed)