Every morning Barbie and I work out together. Ooh! Doesn't that sound healthy?! Do not be fooled! My working out every morning is my only concession to health, I promptly come home and eat a ham and cheese sandwich together. Anyway.

When we work out, I purposely look rather disgusting. I have no desire whatsoever to be picked up by a creepy old man or some slimy gym rat. We also work out at a rather ungodly morning hour when the only people inhabiting the gym are creepy old men trying to get their middle-aged spark back.

Barbie has had a few episodes of being hit on, but I wasn't terribly worried since we go rather early and I purposely look disgusting. Ratty sweatpants, absolutely no makeup, hair everywhere and a non-matching t-shirt.

As I trotted in, I happened to bump into a guy from work. After issuing a cheery hello, I continued trotting. Walking behind him was a fellow who greeted me with a "how YOU doing?!" I very quietly said hello, avoided eye contact and continued walking. He, however, stopped dead in his tracks and says "I said, HELLO! Aren't you going to talk to me?!" Throwing the words over my shoulder as I scurried towards the door, I informed him "it's a free country, I do not have to speak to you."

Fine. That should be pretty clear, yes?

As Barbie and I were pedeling furiously like hamsters, I relayed to story to her. She, of course, found it quite amusing. We had a good chuckle and moved on to talking about other subjects, like orgasms and the inability of men to commit.

Until, Mr. I Cannot Get A Clue, waltzes up to my pedeling self and tries to start communicating. I refuse to look at him, I am pretending he doesn't exist. But I manage to signal to Barbie just WHO this gem is. We start to sprint towards the free-weights. Only to have him give me a forlorn "Wait Babe, I want to talk to you."

I firmly inform him "I do not want to talk to you."

"Don't you want to give me your number?"

"Thanks, but no."

I start walking away.

"Don't you want MY number?"

I shout over my shoulder for the entire gym to hear as I walk away "Thanks, but I am SO NOT INTERESTED."

Harsh, yes?

While we working out our abs and ruminating over the freaks we attrack and how if we were going to have a gym stalker at least he could be BUFF or remotely attractive--guess who ambles over? At this point, I was seriously considering physical violence or threatening of castration. Thankfully, one of the trainers realized our plight and herded him away.

I am forever indebted to him. Or I could like at it like Mr. ICGAC is indebted to him, for he still has his penis, which I was considering removing with the cords of my earbuds. Sounds a little messy, but necessary.



Life lesson learned: no matter how ugly you are, there is still some freak out there who will find you attractive. True solace of the spirit for myself and Kelly Osbourne.