Strange Things I've Overheard At The Gym

by Andy Jay Bennett

At my gym, at any given time, there seems to be at least one crazy, person spouting some insane shit. More often than not, they're naked. Which just makes it that much funnier. Here's two of my recent favorites.


A man enters the pool area wearing a red Speedo and carrying a Duluth Pack full of swimming gear. He puts on a swim cap and climbs into the hot tub, sitting down next to me and my wife.

Then, he ducks his head underwater, presses his face up to a jet, and begins to stretch his arms over his head. After a few awkward moments, he spins and lifts himself up and out of the hot tub like a cobra, or mermaid at the prow of a ship. He stares out at the people swimming in the pool. A smile touches his lips. Then:

HOT TUB MAN: (singing softly, to himself) Ave Maria ...

The first thought that went through my head in this moment was that this seemed like the character-development scene in serial killer movie.


MAN: (to another man with a name badge peeing at a urinal) You work here right?


MAN: You didn't happen to find a puppet, did you?


by Andy Jay Bennett

There's a lot of pressure on the inaugural post on your blog.

I think Oscar Wilde said that. And he was right.

You want to set the right tone, welcome readers to your site, and give them some meaningful insights to take away from the post - something that will ensure they not only come back tomorrow, but tell their friends, too.

I've kicked around a lot of topics and ideas, but none of them seemed quite right. Some ideas were too pretentious, others too precious. I could get political, wax poetic or aim for satire. It's my opportunity to make a good first impression and alert readers to the fountain of rich, universal truths wrapped in a funny smart blog they've just stumbled upon. It's a tall order. And I'm proud to say, I've come up with the perfect topic.

The bathroom.

See, I'm pretty shy about what happens behind the closed bathroom door. Most of the rest of my life is an open book. I eat cheese popcorn with a spoon, the first music I purchased with my own money was a Paula Abdul cassette and I have an irrational fear of the basement (I'm in my 30's and I'm absolutely going to let my wet laundry sit in the washing machine until morning because I don't want to get murdered tonight). But when it comes to the bathroom, that door becomes my bodily function Berlin Wall.

But tonight, as I took a private moment out of a lovely dinner with some equally lovely friends at our house, I realized with horror that my bathroom is giving my house guests a peek behind my Berlin Wall. And it's not a good one.

Next to the toilet in our bathroom is a magazine rack. If is stuffed with magazines. And a dozen more are piled on top of that. And next to the rack is a stack of two dozen more magazines, two books, a graphic novel and a Nook tablet. There's easily 4 weeks worth of reading material next to my toilet.

The message my bathroom is sending is clear: This kid spends a lot of time in here.

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes, no matter how carefully constructed the image you're presenting the world might be, the real you will find a way to rear its ugly head.

What I'm trying to say is: Welcome to my blog.