Dear Old Naked Guy At My Gym


Dear Old Naked Guy At My Gym,

First off, put on some clothes. I have no doubt in my mind that you are probably reading this letter in the nude. Your wife, any children you have and all the neighbors passing by your open window will thank you.

Secondly, I am writing you this letter because you are a menace to the gym locker room and my eye sight. When anyone gazed upon Medusa, her ugliness would turn them to stone. When anyone gazes upon your bare, farmer’s tanned ass, they turn into someone who just sniffed a bowl of chopped onions.


Now I’m sure you have reasons for why your birthday suit is justified, but allow me to guess what they are and then crush them.

You just got out of the shower/are about to shower

We can rule that out because every time I come to the gym, I smell your special marinade (body odor) as soon as I open the door… the front door.

You smell like old salami that someone poured an entire bottle of cologne on, so there is no way you are showering.

Now, if, by the off chance, you are telling the truth and really are using the shower, I suggest going to the zoo and jumping in line with the elephants to get sprayed with a power washer.

We’re all men, so being nude around each other shouldn’t bother anyone

Sir, this is a public gym locker room, not an ancient Greek Bathhouse where everyone sits around naked eating grapes and discussing philosophy.

You know who says things like that? People who own windowless vans and are on a special list that they have to tell their neighbors about, you weirdo.

I’m in good enough shape to be naked

No you are not. If I ever wanted to know what Mr. Potato Head would look like if he was a human, he would look like you.

Although you are not IN shape, you ARE a shape and that shape is “fat”.

Towels are uncomfortable

Then wear a robe. You are in your 60’s, wear ankle bracelet and are always humming Jimmy Buffet songs, so I know you are creepy enough to own at least five different Hawaiian style robes.

I hope that after you read this letter, you decide to finally take your pride and cover it up. It would mean a lot to me and the rest of the male population of gym goers if you had a pair a slacks on the next time you decide to talk to us with one leg resting on the bench.

I hate you

Tim Godfrey

How To Win A Political Argument Against A 13 Year-Old


Have you ever been scrolling through Facebook and read the political status of a friend that made you angry? Annoyed?

Have you ever been at a party and someone mentions that the political party you are associated with has stupid policies and party leaders?

Well, I have, and like you, I ignored those people because they have actual degrees and know what the hell they are talking about.

But have you ever heard a 13 year-old say something political that just made you furious?

I have, too. But unlike you, I actually knew how to handle the situation.

In fact, I am a pro with getting into and then winning arguments with preteens and you can be, too, just by following my five easy steps.

1.) Select the child

Not in a weird chat room kind of way, but in the same way a lion picks out it’s prey; choose the weakest one.

Look for the kid to have pale skin and weak wrists; pirate flags for defenseless and portly nerds. If he is wearing khaki shorts with socks and sandals, then you have hit the jackpot. The nerdier the kid the better.

2.) Wait 

This is key.

This isn’t a ghetto basketball court nor is he the alpha elephant seal, so you can’t just walk up to this kid and challenge him just because you think you can beat him. You just have to look for the opportunity to call him out.

Wait for him to say something stupid. It shouldn’t be too long but you need to be patient and attentive.

Make sure what he says has something to do with politics, though.

If he says something stupid about anything else, like TV shows, don’t challenge him! You might end up sucker punching him when he tells you that Fresh Prince is the “gayest thing about the 90s.”

3.) Make your move

Once again, not in the creepy chat room, “this better not be Dateline”, kind of way.

To hide the fact that you’ve been waiting to deliver a kid half your age a verbal smack-down, approach him like you just happened to be walking by when you overheard that stupid thing he just said.

4.) Destroy him

As you enter the discussion, be sure and deliver some self-esteem lowering jabs.

If he starts out with the phrase “I believe that..”, counter it with something like…

“Well, people who usually believe that (yada, yada, yada) are uneducated and have body odor.”

Fantastic jab! You’ve taken his self-esteem down by calling him stupid and smelly.

Now in the off-chance that he does say something intelligent and pokes a giant hole in your point-of-view, do not fret. The best way to counter-strike is to ask him where he got his degree from.

“Oh, really? A socialist government wouldn’t work? Oh, I’m sorry, WHERE did you get your degree from?”

“Obama is overstepping his boundaries by spying on U.S. citizens? Oh, I forgot, what college did you get your degree from?”

At this point, he will confess that he is a 13 year-old and doesn’t have a degree, making him look like a complete fool.

5.) Celebrate because…

You’ve won an argument against a preteen! What you’ve surely lost in respect from your peers you have gained in a victory in a political argument over a kid who can’t even vote.

Feel free to point both index fingers at him, wobble your knees and call him a loser! You’ve earned that privilege.

But every victory you earn will come with consequences, i.e., his parents will want to beat the **** out of you.

When his parents race over to you…

Take a deep breath. You will get out of this alive.

First attack the dad because, of the two parents, he has the power to kick your ass (The mom will try to slap you but, come one, she’s a woman. That won’t hurt at all). Taking dad down as soon as possible is key to get out of the house unharmed and victorious.

Now the best way to take down any straight male is to question his sexuality.

Say something like…

“Nice kid you got here, Tom. I’m sure you and your boyfriend are very proud of him.”

Nice work! You’ve successfully paralyzed the father with a verbal kick to the gonads.


But don’t celebrate just yet; you still need to defeat the mother.

Since women are mentally stronger (more uptight) than men, taking her down with a simple backhanded compliment about her food or pointing out that her house is dirty won’t do anything.

And since punching a woman is illegal, a physical strike is out of the question.

So what do you do?

Simple; you point out that she has gained weight and looks fat.


The force of your atomic attack will send the mother flying backwards through the wall. It was a nasty tactic, but necessary.

Congratulations! You now have the knowledge needed to take any preteen down a few pegs once he decides to say something that makes you mad.

5 Things I Hate Today


1.) This one particular hipster girl in my class.

I have no idea what this girl’s name is, but I am willing to bet her name is somewhere in the neighborhood of Tabitha Wren. Regardless of her name, this girl is at the top of my list of people who deserve the Regina George Treatment (i.e., getting hit by a bus). Continue reading



A new semester, a new batch of individuals, who fancy themselves intellectuals sit in a circle and sing kum-by-ya in the background while one of them reads from a paper explaining who they are and what they love to do (Sitting in my robe with some tea while it rains? OMGz, yes pleuuuase!).

One by one, each new classmate faces their fear of public speaking by reading off, verbatim, what is written in their Facebook bios to a class of dull, caffeine driven college students.

While everyone claps for their classmate sharing their story, I mime a gun and shoot myself in the mouth.


Why must I suffer through this song and dance every semester? Knowing these people any better will not provide me with motivation to befriend them. In fact, the more I know about them, the less I will like them.

Especially if they are hipsters.

Hipsters, as we all know, are nothing more than personified forms of fungus found on every pair of thick, black glasses and having them share stories about themselves is as exciting as Bryant Gumble talking about his favorite shade of white paint (It’s eggshell by the way).

Every story begins with buying a pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon or American Spirits and ends with them getting to know this “awesome homeless guy”, who they didn’t give any money to because…

1. They didn’t want to supply him with the root of all evil

2. They spent all of theirs on cigarettes, beer and a VHS of Fast Times at Ridgemont High.


Then you have the athletes tell their tale, which is a story riddled with “uh” and “um” and sweat drops flowing down their foreheads as they try and pronounce the word “student-athlete.”

“(Insert sport here) is my life. All I think about doing is playing (insert sport here).”

Yeah, I could tell by your grammar skills and how easily impressed you are by fire.

Next we move on to the token Femi-Nazi who wants to “change the culture of a men-are-superior world”, which is a bunch of bologna. Women are treated like queens in America. We shop for you, pay for your food and we do so without even being given a sandwich as a reward.

*Side note*

  • It is not “asinine” or “sexist” for a man to ask the special woman in his life to make him a sandwich; it’s asking her to do a nice thing for him. If that’s sexist, then ladies, don’t ask men to fix your car or to kill spiders for you anymore because that’s sexist also. What would you rather do? Make me a simple pastrami with pepper jack on wheat or kill every giant spider in your house? 

*End of side note*

The only person who I actually liked and respected in that class was mute. He didn’t bother me with his life story or the boring minutia of how hard his life is as a mute broadcast journalism major.

I have a feeling he might actually become my friend because we won’t have to bother one another with things like “talking” and “listening”.

Dear Pot Smoker


Dear Pot Smoker,

Congratulations on recreational use of Weed being legal in Colorado, something you had absolutely nothing to do with. Contrary to what you think, posting a “4/20 LOL” Facebook status on April 19th and blaring Bob Marley albums out of your mom’s Durango did little, if not nothing, to push the legal use of casual pot smoking.

I don’t know why you are so happy, considering you live in Missouri, where pot is STILL illegal to smoke. But knowing you to be as cunning as a dead fox, that won’t stop you from attempting to fire up a fatty through a Mountain Dew can and then proceed to slur the phrase “smoke the Dew” to everyone within a two-step walking distance. You are a pathetic piece of garbage and I wish nothing but the worst for you, Pot Smoker.

You are literally the worst person to talk to at any party, Pot Smoker. You have nothing to contribute to the conversation; all you talk about is Ron Paul and how the founding fathers smoked weed. Besides who voices every character from Aqua Teen Hunger Force and the operation hours of the Taco Bell drive-thru , you don’t know anything else.

Why are you the way you are, Pot Smoker? Do you like dressing like a homeless person from Jamaica? Do you like being the one person everyone looks at when someone smells something foul? Do you really think people are interested in hearing about all the times you got high, even though every story is the same? We get it, you lit up, forgot you put pizza bagels in the oven and then next thing you know, the smoke alarm is going off from the burnt pizza bagels and you’ve just finished the second Ninja Turtles Movie.

I hate you

Tim Godfrey