• Hi Guest: Welcome to TRIBE, the online home of TRIBE MAGAZINE. If you'd like to post here, or reply to existing posts on TRIBE, you first have to register. Join us!

dr. cosa on working out

judge wopner

TRIBE Member
i strolled into my gym at the usual time of 1pm yesterday, a time well understood by many "in the industry" as "the" time to work out thanks to the excess of sweaty ladies on eliptical machines.

hoping to chat up a certain fair maiden who was gingerly streching her hamstrings or "hammy's" as those of us in the "industry" refer to them, i noted her complete and utter lack of interest in my approach. was it my candor, my tone or perhaps my lulu lemon track suit which the sales girl had pointedly informed me was in fact a ladies model but seemed to really bring out my hips (due in no small part to the thrusting motions i was directing at her while calling security to "escort" me out of the store and introduce my face to a cetain Mr. Sidewalk, a rather stoic fellow, dry sense of humour and grey in the face, but hard as a rock and withstood my face being pounded up against him repeatedly by LuLu Lemon's finest)

but back to the gym, after yet another top flight pilates class i rushed up the nearest flight of stairs to the running track, flexing my calf musles on each stair step upwards signaling to all those in the vicinity that the steroids were working, i mistook their wild laughter of the ladies behind me for pangs of desire at my lucious, if somewhat lacklustre leg muscles.

my blackberry signaled an emergency at the office, which was in actuality a minor event at best, but it did nothing to stop me from rushing to the change room in earnest to return to the "office" (which was more of a trailer home located in the business district than an actual office, a secratary notwidthstanding, who says a homeless employee is any less a valued staff member).

i proceed to don my tighest speedo's before heading to the shower, beach towel covering my now erect nipples. after a quick risne i changed into my finest suit, bees waxed my hair into place and laced up my homemade italian loafers with extra tassels as per rqst. (tassels make the man as they say).

i proceeded to sink for a final floss and brush, when i accidentally depressed the lotion dispenser instead of soap. lotion being the international signal for the gays to come knocking i quickly reprimanded myself outloud before reaching for the soap.. much to the relief of the 10 naked men surrounding me and much to the disappointment of the 3 rather slim and buxom gentlemen taking pictures of me with their camera phones.... who knew the new ones have a flash.....

i left the gym in haste that day, my quads too tight, my back twisted beyond recognition. perhaps igor my personal massuse was right when he said "pay up or your fucking dead dr. cosa"

wise words.

dr. cosa MD
Cannabis Seed Wedding Bands