And we're moving...

Tally ho everyone, we're moving here.
Blogger is driving me (more) dilly, which isn't safe.
Please let me know if you encounter any problems.
Same me, different place.

The Women's Changeroom at Gym

The horror of the gym changeroom is something dramatically underreported, I believe. This is why today's post is devoted to just that.

G.B and I headed off to the gym last night. We plonked down our bags to change into our sexy gym clothes (if by 'sexy' one means 'old but clean'). Almost immediately, we were accosted by a woman in her late 60s/early 70s, who demanded to know why I was using "her locker." She all but shoved me aside as she started rambling away at G.B, me and another unfortunate gym-goer about how she was promised a permanent locker when she joined this fitness chain; how this one was HERS and ONLY HERS, and how another her swimming costume was falling apart – she subsequently tied a piece of wool around the straps across her back to keep the cozzie in place. G.B muttered that the crazy git must be homeless. The other poor sod in the changeroom whispered to me that she thought this woman took pride in her growing 'eccentricity.'  As she began yelling for one of the changeroom attendants to come help her with something, G.B and I beat a hasty retreat.

We completed our sweat 'n pain session, only to return about an hour later to collect our bags (safely stowed in unmarked lockers!) As we walked in, we were met with a sight that terrified the living shit out of us: a woman weighing about 120kgs sitting on a bench, facing the entrance…naked…and legs slightly spread.

Turning away in an attempt not to face this Rubenesque-plus, starkers individual, we came face-to-face with crazy locker lady, following her swim (with her swimming costume in tact.) This time, the rant was about how cold the water was in the showers, and how another gym chain we shall call Passive Ho was so much better than this gym chain. Kerayzeee locker lady proceeded to speak AT GB for a while, until the woman turned her attention to (mercifully) now-attired fatty on the bench. We ran away.

Yesterday's scarring events in the changeroom, coupled with the area's generalised fug of body odour and musty heat, are definitive reasons to avoid this area as much as possible. To men: the images of lust you might cling to about a women's locker room are as far from the truth as a weather forecast. In reality, they are as sexy as socks and slip-slops.

Russian Tiger

Vladimir Putin, Russia's president, has cemented his place in my mind as Russia's sexiest and bravest leader ever...sexier, even, that Mikhail Gorbachev, if that's possible.

The Vladster single-handedly saved a tv crew from being mauled by a Siberian tiger, reports Reuters: "Putin, taking a break from lambasting the West over Georgia, apparently saved the crew while on a trip to a national park to see how researchers monitor the tigers in the wild."

Apparently the trapped tiger escaped and ran towards the crew. Putin quickly sedated the animal with a tranquiliser gun.

In an interview following the terrifying event, Putin was quoted as saying: "Nyeh, eet vos nothink. In Rossia, ve wrestle dronk people for wodka every day. Thees tiger ees no metch for Yuri after zeven glasses of wodka on your average Tuesday night, thet I promiz you."

Well, he might not have been quoted saying that exactly. It's possible he said something entirely dissimilar to what I've written.

By the way, the pic above shows the outfit Vlad that Hottie wore which got him into glossy magazines across the world.  Grrrrow!!