Shut up, hang up, and exercise

Dear Lady with the cell phone,
Yes, you; the one who's hogging the leg adductor machine. I don't mind if you do twenty, fifty, or a hundred leg adductions, but for crying out loud DO THEM. Do not answer your cellphone and make me simmer to a slow boil. This damn gym only has one freaking leg adductor, and my bum hip requires that I use that puppy or I'll hobble around like a 90-year-old.

No! No! Don't punch that call waiting button! Argh!!! You've already gabbed for seven damn minutes - yes, I'm watching the clock - laughing gaily and making me wish that you would gain fifty pounds and grow warts on your eyelids.

Why do you force me to kick my own ass for not having the guts to walk up to you and suggest you move your designer shoes from the machine and lift your sculpted heiny off the seat freaking talk somewhere else? Ach, no! Don't you dare turn away from me. You know damn well I'm here, sighing louder than a dog in heat. That's it, say goodbye to your sister, who burned the ham last Thanksgiving and lit the table cloth on fire. Yes, I CAN hear your entire conversation! You giggle one more time, it's curtains for you.

Ah...you've hung up. WHAT? You're going to now do your reptitions? After ten freaking minutes on the phone? See how I've folded my arms? Don't I look pissed? Do you believe you're the center of everyone else's universe, or are you too self acutalized to care? Sure. I could have used other machines while waiting, but I already used them. This was my last stop. Lady, the next time I see you and your jewel studded cellie, I'm going to whisper softly in your ear. "Psst. I hope next holiday, your sister trips and lights your cell on fire."

I'm also going to hire Cranky Prof to come over and insult you.