Gotta love the self-awareness of this broken down bike. #shitibike #nyc

Gotta love the self-awareness of this broken down bike. #shitibike #nyc

You have to write the bad ones to get a decent one. I really believe in that.

Some sound advice from a very wise man.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52UxIgsC_0g

On strutting your stuff (or locker room exhibitionism)
Two days ago, I casually headed back into the locker room of my gym after finishing my workout. As I grabbed my bag from the locker, I caught a glance of another guy in my row out of the corner of my eye: there he stood, leg propped up, drying himself with a towel that looked about big enough to cover one of the tiny people from Gulliver’s travels (just a rough guess). I can’t tell you why he felt like a hand towel was the way to go on this particular day, but I can tell you that he was more than owning every second of the post-shower spotlight. He dried himself one way. Turned. Continued drying on the other side. And to cap it all off, he did what I can only describe as the locker room equivalent of the Ray Lewis pre-game dance.

I really could care less about being surrounded by nude men in the locker room. Sure, I might have to awkwardly walk around with my eyes directed either a little too high or a little too low to be considered a normal human being, but that’s a pretty small price to pay for knowing that my prized hoody (and wallet, I suppose) will still be around when I finish my sit-ups. Now, if everyone just stuck to the unwritten code of acceptable nudity, I’d bust out the poetry and just ‘go gently into that good night’. But, alas, ‘tis not so. I mean, I think there’s a pretty clear line between what’s incidental and what’s gratuitous in the gym nakedness realm. Right? The few moments it takes you to drop your towel and step, foot by foot into your pants – totally cool. You gotta do it. Unless you’re in an Old Spice commercial, I don’t expect you to just magically end up in pants the second you step out of the shower. But seriously dude, struttin’ your stuff in the DePaul gym locker room? Not quite what the doctor ordered.

New commandment: thou shalt not ever be that guy in the locker room. Even when you’re 75 years old and, with reason, give approximately zero fucks about what the rest of the world thinks of your body. Let’s just agree: some things can never be unseen. So let’s solve one more crime against my sanity by not gracing everyone with an extensive exhibition of birthday suits in the locker room.
The Holstee Manifesto

The Holstee Manifesto

The game needs change and I’m the motherf***ing cashier