It's freakin' hot

Hello, faithful readers. I can't believe it's been (more than) a month since my last post. I didn't realize it had been so long, but Blogger is telling me it has, and we all know that everything on the Internet is true. So I apologize and hang my head in shame.

I was inspired to write today by something amazing I witnessed whilst at the gym. Since I have had about a month off between graduation, moving to Birmingham and starting my internship, I have spent a lot of time at the gym. I mean, not a lot a lot; but you know, more than I was before. Lolz.

Anyway, this morning, after minimal sleep due to cat-related interruptions, I went to pilates (read: life-changing), stayed for an abs class and did some cardio on the elliptical machine. While I was listening to Timbo and sweating up a storm, I looked around and noticed an older gentleman on a weight machine. Not an altogether novel sight, except that he was wearing jorts.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, jean shorts. Jorts as a general rule are to be avoided; but jorts in the gym ought to be punishable by death. It bugs bugs bugs when people wear street clothes to work out. I hate it. I always have.

It's like when I watch "So You Think You Can Dance?" (which I do, religiously) and these fools audition in jeans and scarves, etc. Wtf. It's a dance show. Wear clothes appropriate for dance. Even the amazing dancers have committed this sin. It just pisses me off.

Similarly, when working out at the gym, wear gym clothes. Athletic shorts. Tank tops. T-shirts. Leggings. All these items are appropriate to wear when exercising and sweating copiously. I don't ever want to see jorts, it's true. But it's especially true when I'm innocently jammin' out to my favorite workout album. I get irrationally angry to be violated in such a way. Must be all the exercise-induced testosterone.

I start my internship tomorrow. I'm excited. What to wear? I'll figure somethin' out.

Until next time, majorly yours.