Ron and I worked out together at Bally’s two nights ago. He’s quite a gym-bunny, I must say. My Crunch membership expires in February and he wants me to join Bally’s – but this website (and this one or this one) has always made me think differently. I even had to sit through a sales pitch just to workout there as a guest – and the guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. I told him directly to his face that Bally’s agreements scare me. Their sales staff are like cyborgs. I respect the hard sell but fucking give it up. They confiscated my driver’s license to make sure that I saw them before I left. Argh.
Just yesterday I was talking about strange coincidences. Like I was walking up Clark and wearing the Transylvania sweatshirt Heather gave me so long ago and that gets me humming ‘Sweet Transvestite’ from Rocky Horror Picture Show and I go into the tanning salon and a customer has left a notepad on the counter that reads BRAD JANET and has other text – someone’s notes for doing the play! FREAKISH! And just now I was browsing one of the Bally’s sites and found a complaint filed by Erik. Yikes!
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