Since the iconic Stock Exchange building has been turned into Equinox, and several of the movie theaters have been “Crunched”, why not continue this wonderful trend and turn the following facilities to gyms:
- Legion of Honor
- At least one floor at Museum of Modern Arts
- De Young Museum
- At least one floor of the main public library branch.
Then, the can go international and also add Louvre, Kremlin, at least one Pyramid in Egypt, and Taj Mahal and alike to the list.
Nothing says culture, class and sophistication like fitness sweatshops full of conspicuously miserable people, who can’t wait to get it over with.
As I was walking into the Bay Club earlier today to use a guest pass I got from a friend, I saw a bunch of miserable looking, semi-nerdi / semi-douchy guys pumping iron in an overcrowded room. It looked like a scene from a movie about prison, except with not-so-in-shape white guys working out. A bunch of equally miserable, average (at best) looking women with a notorious FiDi cuntface were paying their dues on a treadmill in the adjacent area. Some of them were testing while others were glued to their Kindle.
I became disgusted with the whole scene, turned around, walked out and started running faster than usual down the Embarcadero. I felt like I had to run away form that place as soon as possibly and as quickly as possible. It was such a warm and nice early evening.
What was I thinking, going to that sweat chamber? I am better than that. Working out at a place that looks like an assembly line at a sweat shop is beneath me. I have too much ego to be part of that, and I can’t make myself step down. I will probably to a gym when it’s raining and there are no other good options for working out, but as long as the weather permits, I will take anything – tennis, running in the park, climbing up the stairs all over town, etc… over the most expensive gym any day.
Today I got the following e-mail from Crunch:
“It’s Monday. It’s gloomy. We’re all stuck at work! Ugh! Where’s my coffee?! To soften the blow of this joyous weekday we all dread, Crunch is offering $69 enrollment for today only! We are also offering any new member AUGUST FREE with the purchase of a PT package!
Shoot me an email if you’re interested and don’t get a case of the Monday!”
Not bad. However, I would like to make two important corrections to make the above message more truthful:
* First, people look equally miserable on any other day, besides Monday, and it’s clear that they dread every single weekday throughout, except for happy hours;
* Secondly, going to the gym, even if it’s Crunch, doesn’t soften the blow, but makes it even harder to endure. I just can’t see how looking at a bunch of sexually frustrated, semi-nerdy guys pumping steel and average looking girls with an attitude of super models running on a hamster wheel while wearing their white headphones is going to brighten up your day.
I find the sexually suggestive posters on the Equinox gym to be both hilarious and hypocritical. Attempting to create sexual innuendo’s at a gym in San Francisco, where people look more unfriendly, more miserable and more eager to separate themselves from the rest of the world with headphones and texting than even on a bus to work, is nothing short of ridiculous. If you were to enter Equinox, you would have found out for yourself that it’s just like any other gym in the city – not only there isn’t a trace of sexual tension in the air, but there isn’t even an interest among both males and females in what’s going on around them. There is nothing in there remotely resembling the kind of dominance, action, dexterity that the posters suggest.
I also assure you that no woman walks on a stairmaster the way shown below, and surely dominance and dexterity are not exhibited in the way that the lower poster suggests.
I have a big ego and I can be arrogant at times. Every time I walk through the doors of a gym, at first I feel ashamed for walking in, thinking “come on, there has to be a better and more fun way to work out and get more fit”. As I look around at all the treadmill running, steel pumping, and headphone adjusting, miserable looking gym clientele, I can’t help but judge them for condemning themselves to such miserable ways of spending their free time, and for their lack of basic initiative and creativity in finding more fun ways of working out – from martial arts to aerobics and dancing.
But, I am there too. How could I be that much better? Am I better than that roid boy, who is checking himself out in the mirror after every circle of bell curls? Am I that much smarter than that vertically challenged, square shaped Asian guy in a wife-beater? How am I smarter than this girl who has been texting away for the past 2 miles of biking on a stationary bike?
As I start working out myself, I can’t help but have an image of an industrial assembly line in my mind or a noisy manufacturing plant, where people are doing something because they have to and not because they want to with little or no emotional reward.
Every place and every venue out there has a certain vibe and a certain energy. The gym has one clear energy which is created by its patrons – “I am trying to get this work-out over with as soon as possible and get the hell out of here. I am here because I have to, not because I want to. I am texting so much while I am here because this is the most fun part of being here.”
Going to the gym and observing the miserable atmosphere that it creates in an environment which is supposed to promote health and fitness allows me to perfect yet another aspect of my self-loathing Jewish nature, and at the same time hope that maybe one day “happy hour” would be the term that refers to our gym hour and not t0 our getting-drunk-after-work-over-small-talk-about-nothing hour.
How do you make a mockery out of a piece of history in the heart of San Francisco? How do you insult history? Apparently, it’s not that hard. All you have to do is to take a beautiful, historic building in the heart of financial district – The Pacific Stock Exchange – that was established all the way back in 1882 and that has served as one of the main arteries of the finance world in the west coast for over two centuries, and you turn it into an overpriced, stuffy, douchy gym. As if there weren’t already tons of 24-hour fitness, club one’s, yoga and pilates studios, and a gazzilliion of 5-min work out paces all the way around for “busy professionals”.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that a historic movie theatre on Chestnut has been converted to Crunch, where now you can enjoy pumping steal or grind the treadmill in distress in utter darkness. Why did this beautiful building had a to become Equinox? After my very superficial research, I found out that no one else wanted the building. This is a sad fact for the city that purports to offer so much culture and makes it sound like it’s a small New York. Really? – There were no other, more “grandiose” ideas for this building. No one thought of turning it into a theatre, a museum, a library, a school? Why didn’t Academy of Art step in and just buy it like it has with so many other buildings all around.
The most ironic part is the large posters with sexual innuendos that are hung at the top of the building. All you need is to step inside for a few minutes to confirm that between having too much attitude and being preoccupied with getting the work out over with as soon as posible, there is very little, if any, love vibe in that place.
I guess it could have been worse – the Pacific Stock Exchange building could have been turned into a giant Starbucks. Or…. how about another branch of Chase bank? I guess I better hope that Equinox does well, as it indeed it can get worse. Besides, I have nothing against Equinox or any other gym where people can work out, unwind and burn a few calories. I just think that certain landmark buildings deserve better than that and a little more respect than just being an exercise room.
Yoga pants on Jackson Square
Have you ever asked yourself what slutty Halloween outfits and yoga pants/tights have in common besides looking slutty? – It’s the fact that both provide a seemingly legitimate reason for a San Francisco woman to show her goods (or bads) off. Scientifically, the only way to create an attire which is even sluttier than yoga pants would be nothing other than tighter yoga pants or more see-through yoga pants? I give it two-three more years until we see clear yoga pants, where a woman looks like she is not wearing any pants when she actually does.This is hardly a bad news for us, guys, as we don’t mind at all appreciating women’s behinds – whether those tasty, plump buns are a product of genetics or ethnic blessing or whether they came to being after miles of climbing an elliptical week after week in musty gym.
I hope to live long enough to see the San Francisco women wear yoga pants with stillettos. And hey, if they also choose to compliment their classy attire with a neon pink wifebeater, all the more power to her, and I will have no objections. Of course, she will expect to be respected by all around for who she is on the inside and god forbid you try to objectify her or her subtly bulging camel toe, but that’s a different story.
I am a big fan of health, fitness and exercise, especially if it helps the San Francisco women feel better or at least less guilty about looking slutty and provocative.