The Bull(shit) Monty

I am trying out a new gym this week on a free week to see if I’d like to possibly buy a package or membership. I’m liking it so far, even though the workout takes place on one of these death machines and I’m quite certain that I will end up face-planting into the cement floor below me at some point. (stay tuned)

The real problem, though, isn’t the workout. The real problem is Monty. Monty is the annoying teacher from today’s dog, and let me tell ya- he’s a real asshole.

First of all, someone whose name rhymes with Meverly Scholdenstein accidentally arrived thirty minutes early to the workout (which is super cool on a Saturday morning for a 7:30am class). Being the time-efficient person that she is, Meverly spent her time researching hotels for an upcoming trip while sitting in the parking lot, kicking herself for not double-checking the time and getting extra half an hour of sleep. While she was sitting there in her car, she hears an obnoxious barking (not atypical in MyCity, as people bring their Godforsaken animals everywhere – see this post). Meverly turns around to see that not only is this dog accompanying the woman is who is obviously opening the workout studio, and going to be the teacher, but she is carrying his dog bed. Like, she brought her dog and his full-size dog bed to the gym. Now, Monty is not a large dog by any means, but he’s also no chihuahua. I actually think he was a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel (one of very few dog breeds I actually know, because Fawn has one- you might remember her from here and here). The point? It’s not like Monty’s gonna be sleeping on a bed the size of shoe box. This bed takes some work to haul around. Obviously, bringing it to the gym seems like a good idea…

So, now, I walk in to this gym, (it’s my first time at this location), and I just heard the instructor say to get out weights, but I didn’t know where they were, so I was trying to ask her and she literally made me wait until after she filled the dog’s bowl with water before she showed me the weights. Excellent customer service, Monty’s mom!

At this point, I’m obviously furious, but I’m pressing on to get my workout on. And don’t worry- it’s not like Monty sleeps in the lobby area of the studio, and is out of the way while we’re trying to work out. No, his happy little ass is trotting around, sniffing people, touching our towels, etc. I only wish he would’ve come close enough for me to kick him, but I think he could feel my hatred radiating out of my body. (that, or he knew that if my fat ass somehow feel off that death machine, and onto him, he’d be dead meat)

My only saving grace is that Monty did spend quiiiiiite a bit of time sniffing/licking a tissue that I had discarded onto the floor to throw away after class.

You know what, Monty? I hope you have the sniffles.

And I hope your mom has syphilis. Though I’ll never find out, because I will not be back to that bitch’s class.

-Bev

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This Monty is more my speed.