The only way I know how to begin this post is with a sigh.
Sigh...
Ladies, do you have any idea of what I go through to polish deez gunz? Seriously! Take a look at this:
Now, the other gun.
Oh, my shirt? I left it over thurrrr...
Gunz is serious business. And the polishing of said gunz can be a dirty, filthy task that is not for those lacking in testicular fortitude.
I was in the locker room at the gym yesterday. I was hunched over my gym bag putting my stuff away. There I was, minding my own business, packing up my shit and getting ready to leave. Then a man came out of the shower.
A older man.
An older, naked man.
Guess where his locker was?
He strolled across the locker room bare-ass naked and air drying his junk. He walked towards me, took one step past, and hung a left. Towards me. As he reached for his locker which was one over and one above mine, he nearly put my eye out with his shriveled pecker. It literally stopped inches away from my face. WTF, people.
I immediately stood up, retreating my face from his happy place. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he parked his bologna pony in the no parking zone that is around me head. How the fuck does a guy not know where he's sticking that thing? I've seen some pretty disgusting shit in the men's locker room before but this was one of the worst. Second worst, to be specific.
It would have been the absolute worst had it not been for my experience tonight. Once again, it was in the locker room and I had just finished polishing my gunz. I think it goes without saying that a men's locker room stinks to high heaven. The stench is usually a combination of mildew, sweat, piss, shit, and designer imposters cologne. I hope you weren't eating.
I walked in there tonight and I was assaulted with an unholy stank. It was a funk to end all funk. It burned my nose and throat to breathe. It was especially punishing since I had just finished my workout and so my breathing was deep and heavy. This wasn't the usual aforementioned potpourri. One particular ingredient overpowered the rest. There was One stench to rule them all. It was shit.
Some cretin had taken a shit in the locker room. No, I don't mean someone popped a squat on the can and pinched a loaf. I mean someone dropped a deuce on the locker room floor.
It was absolutely revolting. There were about four light brown turds near the lockers, about 8 lockers down from mine. Let's be clear here: these were not dingleberries. These were grade A, USDA certified turds. They were strewn about a small area on the floor, not piled up. This arrangement made the head count easy in case any of you were thinking I had to get closer to count. You sick bastards.
The guy that came in several seconds after me was hit with the same stifling death cloud. He flinched; he physically flinched. He took a look around, noticed the shit, and jumped back. What happened next was something I didn't understand.
He was clearly revolted by what he saw but he took a step forward, bent down, and stuck his face closer. teh fuck, people?!?! Looks like shit, smells like shit, hmmm... Must be a cream pie! I guess he couldn't believe what his senses were telling him. I didn't need a double take to believe what I was seeing. However, I did have trouble believing how teh fuck someone can just take a shit on the floor of the men's locker room.
Despite the misfortune of finding something so vile, there were at least two people worse off then I was. One was the guy that had to stick his face closer to believe it. The other was the guy that stepped in it. There was a partial footprint in one of the logs. Some hapless soul had wandered in, probably smelled the incredible stench, but didn't think to look down before stepping towards his locker. And yes, I checked my shoe. It wasn't me.
So that's what I go through several times a week to polish deez gunz. Don't ever take it for granted. Feel free to scroll up and look at them again. Feel free to touch yourself, too.
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