He Is D-Nast

I saw this interesting article today called, “Would You Like a Cocktail With that Workout?”  My brain instantly responded with a “Yes, please. Why that sounds great,” and I clicked on the link. It seems that in NYC (where all the cool things happen …damn them!) gyms are creating dance club-esque workouts so that heavy drinkers, like me, don’t have to choose between fitness (which I never choose) and happy hour.  I started the article as excited as could be thinking that if there’s anything that could get me to the gym it’s definitely labeled “Grey Goose” and mixed with some ginger beer and lime juice. However, to my dismay, no booze are actually involved in these workouts just something they call “antioxidant” shots. FUUUCK that! I mean, who’s gonna want to pound me unless they’re already half in the bag? I was hoping this would be a gym where you can take tequila shots of the trainer’s Efron-like abs and then after a hardcore grinding workout I could find somebody to pay to come home with me.

Ugh, I hate it when you get really excited for something only to be let down 30 seconds later. They should really not label articles with the word “cocktail” in them without the actual promise of an opportunity to get shit-wrecked.  In my angry state I’ve decided that I’m going to open my own gym in my private living room. A gym that allows me to drink a hipster-y IPA or two (or fuck, who am I kidding?) a 30 rack of Pabst Blue Ribbon while I pretend to roll around on my yoga bowl and instead play Words with Friends while channel surfing between E! and Bravo. Memberships start at $9.99 people. It’s a New Year’s special.