a note to mr. scott or whatever you real name is...

dear mr. owner of somewhat-cool gym i attend.

while i appreciate the dim lights. the cool art. and the no-meat head mentality...please, please fix the best treadmill. i believe her name is bette. the other ones are screwy and it makes me want to cry.

also, maybe it's not the best idea to have vh1's "hottest beach bods EVER" playing in front of the treadmills on a dreadfully humid saturday morning. i mean, seeing cameron diaz in her bikini isn't exactly making me feel better about myself.

thanks for listening,

yours truly (because i paid for a year membership at one time,)

PG