YMCA

I need to start working out again, or I'm going to look like Phil Mickelson's man-breasts for the rest of my life. Like, my entire body will look like his man-breasts. Then I'll start taking stupid chances like hitting on a smoking hot girl whose not-as-attractive-but-still-attractive friend is interested in me, and then I'll go home alone to weep. Always the weeping.

So I'll go to the gym. Then I'll start doing the bench-press, and I'll struggle with the last set or something, and this meat-head with good intentions will notice it, stop whatever he's doing, and stand next to me yelling "COME ON! YOU CAN DO IT! FUCK YEAH!" Then I'll finish the sit and he'll want to give me a high-five.

I'm not going to go to the gym.