Oh, it's pronounced "jim"

So, I’m thinking about joining a gym. Now, I don’t know if I’m actually going to join a gym, but I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. I know what people are probably thinking: “Achan, you don’t need to join a gym. You’re like an African Adonis. We’re kinda amazed that you don’t spend all day in front of a full length mirror gazing at the magnificence that is you.” And to that I say, don’t be silly. I don’t even own a full length mirror… oh, but if I did. My, the gazing I would do.

Sorry. Got side tracked. But I’m back now. So, I’ve been thinking about joining a gym. Even though you can’t tell (at least that’s what I like to tell myself) I’m getting a bit soft in the middle. Every few nights I wake up covered in sweat and breathing hard. Those are usually the nights Erin slips me a blue pill and has her way with me while I’m sleeping… but other nights I wake up sweating and breathing hard because of The Dream.

You know The Dream. Everyone knows The Dream. One second you’re sprightly and vernal, frolicking in the hallowed halls of high school with nary a care in the world. The next second you blink and you’re a rounding, graying, sore joint, back pain having old ass twenty-seven year old. We’ve all had that dream. And if you say you haven’t I’m gonna come over and kick you. Right in the baby maker. I know you know what I’m talking about. So, yeah, I’m thinking about joining a gym.

But you see, the trouble with gyms, or rather gym memberships, is that they cost money. I wouldn’t have so much of a problem with this if I felt like I would actually be a member of something… or if I had money. I mean, who came up with THAT scheme??? Seriously, what are the benefits? “You give us you’re money, and in return we won’t make sure you come at least 3 times a week (or even once), we won’t invite you to our house for drinks and/or dinner (but mostly drinks), and in ten years saying you are a member of this gym won’t exactly give you the extra umph you need to hobnob with the rich and famous. We’ll be taking your money now. Or, if you’d rather, we can take it right out of your bank account. Little by little, month by month.” Wow, I guess when it’s put THAT way why wouldn’t I want to join a gym???

Okay, so truthfully, I’m not thinking about joining a gym. I just thought all that shit would be fun to say. That WAS fun! I feel much better now. Oh, but seriously I’m looking for a gym.

Apparently there are only three kinds of gyms in Philly. Type 1: Your Bally’s and Bally’s-like gyms. The place where pretty people go to see and be scene. Clearly, I don’t fit the bill for this. No, it’s not because I’m hideous, but thanks for asking. It’s mostly because I don’t want to deal with avoiding strangers that are eye fucking. If there’s one lesson I’ve taken from college it’s this: the only thing more awkward than pretending the be asleep while your roommate is fucking, is being in a room where complete strangers are eye fucking. It’s like there’s a party in the room, but you weren’t invited. And that’s just plain sad. So, Bally’s is probably out of the picture. Did I mention you might just have to take out a second mortgage to pay for the membership?

Type 2: Your Mighty Mick’s type gym. If you’ve ever seen Rocky, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t seen Rocky, stop reading this… wait, not yet. Read to the end of this sentence then stop reading this, go rent or buy Rocky, watch it, and then discuss. It’s ok. I’ll wait…

See it was good, wasn’t it? Maybe you decided you liked it so much you want to watch all six of the Rocky movies. Well, don’t. Stop after IV. Once he takes down Drago the whole series just goes to pot. Right. Down. The. Crapper.

So Mighty Mick’s is basically a cave with a naked bulb swinging on a frayed wire and dingy windows that barely let any light into the place. The owner will be about seven hundred years old and call everyone a bum, and the equipment will typically look like it was made by the owner’s father. Pretty sweet, I know. And surprisingly membership goes for only about $20 a month. Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried one of these.

Type 3: Your happy medium. Something like your Young Men’s Christian Association-type gyms. I hear they’re even letting the non-Christians join these days. SCORE! No matter where you go there’s gotta be some kind of guideline as to how crappy or nice these places can be. You can be sure that you won’t have to wait two hours for a machine because the person using it is really just checking him/her self out in the wall to wall mirror. But at the same time, you don’t have to worry about getting an STD from the equipment. It’s pretty much a win-win situation.

The only problem I’m having with the YMCA is that they charge you extra for tons of shit you’ll never use. They’re like your local cable provider. I mean, I know I could save so much money if I could go a la carte. Seriously, how much of my $44 a month will go towards aquatics? AQUATICS??? Really? Me? I don’t think so. How about we knock it down to $40 a month and I stay out of the pool? Sounds fair to me.

Alright. Now I guess I just have to make my decision. If anyone out there reading this has extensive gym experience, you’re advice would actually be welcomed. Seriously. I want to pump. Me. Up.