ass from sea to shining sea

First of all, let me preface this by saying I'm not the most supple, graceful athlete on the pitch. Truth be told, my body seems to have morphed from Elvis Presley on the Ed Sullivan show to Elvis Presley "Hawaii Come Back" special all in just a couple of short chip and television filled years. (Damn those bastards...they know that once you pop, you can't stop yet they push their drug legally in every American gas station from Anchorage to Miami.) With this out in the open, I still have to make myself a quasi-hypocrite by making fun of this girl's boom-boom I saw at the gym today.

Damn.

I mean fucking piss-christ.

I think it wasn't only her body, but also how it was presented. She was wearing tight lycra work-out pants that looked like they were stretched to their breaking point and screaming for mercy. She had her monstrous boom-boom shoved into the brightest pair of pepto-bismol colored stretch leotards I think I've ever seen. And this is coming from someone who was a refugee of the late 80's hammer pants craze. (Don't laugh. I took shrapnel in that conflict....it was MY time in hell.) You could see every wrinkle and dimple in her ass...a half-blind cartographer could have charted and recorded every single curve and nuance from at least 10 meters. It looked like a can of biscuits had exploded in her pants. Even her stretch pants had stretch marks.

I have respect for anyone who goes to the gym, especially people who are like me and enjoy the finer things in life. And by finer things in life, I mean fried things. But the combination of a monstrous batty and bright pink stretch pants should always be avoided. It looked simultaneously disgusting and sweetly innocent, much like a picture of rainbow bright shitting out a unicorn.

I'll leave you with that visual.

Jacob