Despite earlier rants and raves, it's not all bad in Los Angeles. Or rather, from every evil, comes at least some good. Native, migrated, or just passing through, anyone in LA will tell you that there is a layer of superficiality that coats everything you touch here. You could brush up against a rock here and next thing you know it'd be telling you you need your eyebrows shaped and crying over Brangelina. LA might be the only city (save Korea) where the majority of women would sooner spend their money on a rhinoplasty than donate to Katrina victims, would rather get their boobs augmented than have their boobs checked for cancer, would probably sell their first born (and those born after as well) to have their stomach back, pre-childbirth wreckage.
But, on to the good from this evil...not gonna lie kids...I've been hitting the gym like it's my job. I don't know if it's the weather, the boredom, or more likely the desire to feel like I belong on the beach alongside the surfer chicks, but that Crunch has seen more of me in the last two weeks than Bush has seen people laughing at him on the street. And let me tell you, the men ain't straight at this club, which puts an immediate stopper on my usual raison d'working out. Past stats show that my attendance at a gym increases by 69.8% during periods where a potential mate is known to be attending as well. (Experience would also show that after said "mating" is achieved, attendance drops again for at least several weeks until drunken incident can be assuredly blurred in both parties' minds--this of course a precaution against awkward tripping on treadmill as one party tries to avoid eye contact or fumbling of free weights as other party struggles to pretend he has not seen the other walk in.) I'm realizing, a bit late in the game, that it is almost BETTER not to have fantasy gym crushes--One can almost focus on getting in shape, which is news to me as that never seemed the logical reason for gym visits before.
And because it just wouldn't be fitting to remove the element of sex from the gym entirely, tonight marked my second visit to the Striptease workout class, which I seem to have more of an inclination for than other types of movement class. The step combinations are minimal to memorize and gyrating comes naturally to me I suppose. As I said to my ex earlier, it is a shame he missed this formal education I'm now receiving at the gym. It is good to know that Crunch cares about the quality of my sex life (of which I'm having next to none here quite yet). But yet here we are with our first solidified benefit to my new life in Los Angeles: a hotter bod and a potentially steamier life in the bedroom [should I ever regain the latter]. If that shouldn't be in the LA tourist attractions, I don't know what else they'll put in there. The found motivation to shape up is certainly more impressive than everything else I've seen here so far. LA, the new Vegas of sorts: What happens at the Crunch on Sunset...stays at the Crunch on Sunset.
I'm just pooped from simulations of hard core sex at the gym and off to bed.