Going to the gym would be slightly less of a burden if I didn't always windup face to face with some old guy's antique nuts and stories of his youth at the end of my workout. Thanks to Leonard, and a painful tale of life as a NYC sanitation worker for 39 years, I will never step foot in a sauna again. Though it was Theodore's exotic use of the gym towel to dry his nether regions that forces me to bring my own towels now. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for 90 being the new 70. Just keep your distance from me in the gym or I will break your f*cking hip.
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