Tuesday, January 27, 2004


One of the bad homosexuals from my old gym followed me to my new, otherwise-bad-homosexual-free gym. Matt is one of those social-climbing parasites who's vaguely nice to you unless someone he finds more appealing comes along. We used to make small talk, then I made small talk while he grunted answers and looked around, then he started walking away from me while I was in the middle of making small talk. So I started ignoring him completely, and now he wants to be "friends" again.

His pallid, bug-eyed boyfriend is also named Matt (could you just barf?), and while Matt #2 won't even make (buggy) eye contact with anyone not on his pre-approved friends list, he's all hands whenever I find myself near him in a crowd. Ugh.

And now, though I was sincerely hoping otherwise, (at least one of) The Matts will be invading my space yet again as I work out. I can only hope our friend R. Kelly mistakes him for an underage girl and (allegedly) pees on him in the shower.

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