Zodi’s Blog

Stupid Letters

Dear Old Men Ball Danglers at the Gym,


I go to the Y because it’s cheap and gritty. I like cheap and gritty. I hate those yuppie gyms with sparkling chrome and polished leather equipment that no one uses because no one is there because everyone is terrified of their hard sell and their tight shirts and their perfect hair. I go to the Y because I like cheap and gritty. I like to see some handicap people around, giving it their all. I enjoy my conversations with drug dealers and gang bangers. It’s inspiring to see the homeless coming in; sure, I have to watch that the crackhead doesn’t steal my stuff and watch that the elderly alcoholic doesn’t spill his beer, or piss, or whatever the hell is in that gallon *water* bottle. These are my peoples. I’m like Jesus in that way. I love the street and the flotsam and jetsam that get washed in with it. I like cheap and gritty, I like the Y.


One of the personal trainers, 'Gunshot George.'

What I can not abide, however, are you, the Old Men Ball Dangler Brigade. When I’m getting dressed in the corner of the locker room, keeping my eyes on the crackhead who just wandered in and is methodically searching for an unlocked locker, and you choose to dry off right next to me and you swing your leg up on the bench and everything just comes alive right before my eyes, dangling and swinging and twisting and bouncing and undulating and pulsing I feel kind of sick. I don’t appreciate it when you run your towel up your leg and one, lone, testical escapes like an orbital, fleshy Shawshank Redemption. I don’t like that.


I don’t like when I’m working out and one of you begins stretching or performing an ill advised exercise on nautilus equipment wearing too short shorts and I’m forced to witness a pink, veiny ball of soup working its way down your leg.


I hate when I’m in the sauna, donning the appropriate swimwear as clearly indicated on the easy to read signs, and you saunter in like John Wayne, lie down and de-towel yourself, revealing a lack of appropriate swimwear and a horrific lesson in physics and gravity.  



Dear Obviously Gay Guy at the Gym,


I’m not at all interested in your nutritional regime. Also, although I tend to stare at balls, I’m not gay. At all. Sorry. If you really need a blow job, you could probably work something out with Crackhead.



What does this picture have to do with this blog? They’re both meaningless, infantile and awesome.

Dear Lottery Clerk,


Please stop asking me if I also want to play my numbers in the afternoon draw or if I’d like to play the Powerball. I’m a gambling junkie, I can’t say no. What if I say no and the guy behind me wins and I have to come back and kill every mother fucker in the store?



Dear Bureaucrat Who Came up with the Afternoon Draw,


Fuck you.



Dear Casey Anthony,


That was kind of a bitch move. You make me yearn for the innocent days of my youth when I still believed in heaven, hell and some form of ultimate justice. Sadly, that’s not the way things work. But, given that you still live  here in Florida there’s a very good chance that you’ll die a violent and horrible death just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like a crackhouse on a Friday night or Wal-Mart on check day.


Also, if I see you I’m going to be all passive aggressive because I’m gangster like that.



I definitely won’t give you anal. Again.

Dear Michele Bachmann,


If you win and turn this country into a Christian theocracy, I’m going to be nice to Casey Anthony just to spite you. I’ll also be on the first plane to Costa Rica.

July 10, 2011 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , ,


  1. What’s the polite way of telling a gay guy you’re not gay? You could have mentioned your wife’s cooking, but he might have thought you were a married gay gay who longed to have a husband to cook for.
    As for the old ball-danglers, send them to a vet, they don’t need them at their age.

    Comment by Gorilla Bananas | July 10, 2011 | Reply

    • That especially wouldn’t work considering I do all the cooking in the marriage. I think he knows I’m not gay… he’s more lonely than gay. Which is harder to expel.

      Thanks GB!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  2. You know you are old when your balls hang lower than the shaft (that or you had a micropenis to begin with)

    Comment by Bearman | July 10, 2011 | Reply

    • Wait, so you’re saying… nah, I must just have big balls.

      Thanks Bearman!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  3. There are ball danglers at the nice, polished gyms too. My husband used to complain about them all the time. I guess he is also not gay and tends to stare at balls. It’s a thing, apparently.

    “What if I say no and the guy behind me wins and I have to come back and kill every mother fucker in the store?” Exactly!! And this is why I don’t play the lottery – fear of either being the killer or the kill-ee.

    Comment by Amy | July 10, 2011 | Reply

    • That’s comforting to know that I’m not the only one. I think it’s like a train wreck thing; you can’t look away.

      Yea, but it’s all worth the chance (and daydreams) to hit.

      Thanks Amy!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  4. Isn’t your y unisex? I thought they all were now. YW has a’ better class’ of person, but ymca is cooler in my estimation.

    Believe in karma, my man. God’ll get her somehow, you damn heathen. I wouldn’t refuse her a seat at my restaurant, though she’s a worthless person. i was praying for her life, i always do when the state tries to murder someone, but then I was like, “Lord, I didn’t mean let her walk!” I am glad for Cindy that they didn’t give Casey the death penalty, but i almost wish she had gotten it after i heard that bitch refused to see her mom after all she’d done for her daughter.

    Dear Bloggy Man,
    This ycman place sound like makes much the diverting, no? I likes to make for to show my purses hairless for the sexy. We goes togethers sometime near now?

    I, The Rodrigo

    Comment by Lisa | July 10, 2011 | Reply

    • Yea, the Y is unisex. I didn’t mention any women because they didn’t play that much of a role in these letters. They range from beautiful to hella homeless with most falling into the ghetto chic category.

      She did it and everyone knows she did it but they didn’t have or present the evidence that she did it. The jury made the right call for sure.

      Rodrigo! I missed you!

      Thanks Lisa!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  5. I stare at balls all the time and I’m not gay either. I don’t much like those dangly, escapee balls though. Unfortunately now that I’m in my forties my target audience is the balldanglers.

    Casey Anthony, what a twat. I don’t think the jury came to the wrong decision, they had no choice based on the evidence I suppose. I hope those 31 days of freedom were worth it because I don’t think she’ll have much of a life now. Maybe Larry Flint can help her out.

    Comment by Rev D | July 10, 2011 | Reply

    • Yea, but it’s oker for you.

      No, they had no other choice. Without a witness or a murder weapon it was all circumstantial and you can’t usually get a murder conviction on circumstantial evidence. Which is good and bad sometimes.

      Thanks Rev. D!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  6. Balls are just one of the reasons – and there are many – I don’t go to gyms.

    Comment by Karen lee Thompson | July 10, 2011 | Reply

    • Balls may soon be all the reason I need not to go to gyms.

      Thanks Karen!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  7. Sydney is famous for its beaches. It’s also famous for sun-leathered, hairy old men who enjoy their days of retirement wearing tiny swimwear by the seaside. You find yourself praying that bit of lycra will hold on to whatever it is gravity has seen fit to swing pendulously at knee level. Moral? Stop hanging around at the beach during the day – go get a job!

    Comment by Mitzi G Burger | July 10, 2011 | Reply

    • Oh yea, I was used to those type of scenes in Spain where the beaches all seem to be clothing optional. I’ve found that you rarely see the people that you want to see naked, you see all the ones you don’t want to.

      Thanks Mitzi!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  8. This post has given me great comfort. I thought I was the only one who attracted strange people at gyms. Most memorable was this “mature” gentleman who would come out of the shower and stand in front of the full length mirror, put his hands behind his head and do pelvic thrusts while turning 360 degrees. I wasn’t sure what muscle group he was working and didn’t want to know.

    PS I just finished Cadillac Beach by Tim Dorsey. Im my opinion his best so far. Can you imagine how hard it would be to write a book with a plot like that? Thanks for pointing me in his direction!

    Comment by Thomas Stazyk | July 11, 2011 | Reply

    • I think it’s the gyms that attract the strange people, we just happen to be there.

      My favorite was Florida Roadkill, simply because it caught me so off guard. I love how he throws in the history as well, some great old stuff. Glad you enjoy him!

      Thanks Thomas!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

  9. I have seen the old guys doing naked things in the locker room, which is bad enough, but never have I seen the escaping ball while working out. Everyone should have a little nut support, especially the older guys with droopier balls. They will get a hernia from their bean bag slapping across their legs, and it will serve them right.

    Good post here, but you may want to consider upgrading to a more civilized gym. Also, I dare you to drink from the “water” bottle.

    Comment by Dr. Kenneth Noisewater | July 11, 2011 | Reply

    • Nut support is big, it’s huge. I still wear boxers but I am, for the first time in my life, starting to see the benefits of a snugger fit. Luckily, I already had hernia surgery so I’m like Iron Man, intestinally.

      Hmm, I can’t resist a dare. I’ll let you know!

      Thanks Dr. Ken!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 11, 2011 | Reply

      • Hmmm. Long time without another post. What have you been doing? Dangling your nuts out of your gym shorts? The old dead rat trick, eh?

        Comment by Dr. Kenneth Noisewater | July 22, 2011 | Reply

        • Don’t worry; my nuts are still screwed on correctly… or something.

          I’ll be back with some fresh material and warmer testicles tomorrow.

          Thanks Dr. Ken!

          Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 23, 2011 | Reply

  10. I should know better, but I almost choked on my lunch while laughing at your post. It seems I might have to go to a gym someday and see what stories I can find there.

    Comment by Reb | July 11, 2011 | Reply

    • That’s always a compliment, thanks!

      It all depends on what gym you choose to patronize, I guess.

      Thanks Reb!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 12, 2011 | Reply

  11. I just watched the movie Sex Drive last night. One scene in it totally reminded me of your first letter. ::shudder::

    Comment by thoughtsappear | July 11, 2011 | Reply

    • Sex Drive? I like the sound of that. I’ma check out me some Sex Drive!

      Thanks Thoughtsappear!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 12, 2011 | Reply

  12. “Dear Old Men Ball Danglers at the Gym”.. Scott you have allowed me a peek into the Man Club, and for that I thank you. Too f*ckin funny. ..”revealing a lack of appropriate swimwear and a horrific lesson in physics and gravity” lmao.. 🙂

    Comment by Lynn | July 12, 2011 | Reply

    • The man club isn’t hard to peek at. (It isn’t at all exclusive or interested in privacy.) It’s like Woody(?) said, I wouldn’t want to be a member of a club that would accept me as a member.”

      Thanks Lynn!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 12, 2011 | Reply

  13. Seeing as dangly, old-man balls have been covered by everybody but the old men themselves, I’m going to have to address the lottery letters in a small effort to maintain my overly-emphasized uniqueness as well as allowing me to live the rest of my life without having to type “dangly, old-man balls” ever again.

    I know the powerful draw of which you speak. Powerball? I mean, you could win? Right? The odds are spectacularly against you but here’s the thing: You can’t win if you don’t play. That’s the secret.

    Even if the odds are 267,000,000,000,000,000-to-1 against you, they’re even worse if you never buy the ticket. How much worse? Try 787,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000-to-1.

    I know. You’re thinking “How do I still get a ‘1’ if I don’t buy a ticket?” Well, those odds are the same as a distant uncle dying and leaving you the winning ticket in his will (most likely along with several hundred non-winning tickets).

    So… who’s the real sucker here? The guy who buys 5 or 10 or 50 or 200 tickets a week? Or the chump who never buys a ticket? (Hint: look at which one I referred to as a ‘chump’.)

    Now, the Afternoon Draw. That’s just 3-card-monte for people who only play once or twice a day. You’ll never win, but you won’t go broke nearly as fast.

    Comment by Capitalist Lion Tamer | July 13, 2011 | Reply

    • Well, you sure know how to take the fun away from my gifting of cash money to the Florida Educational system. Or whoever the hell winds up with the spoils. It may be Rick Scott for all I know. It may be Michael Scott for all I know.

      People are always surprised when they find out that I play the lottery, knowing that I used to be a bookie and all, since I should know better, odds wise. But the thing that they, and you, don’t know is that this is my retirement plan and God naturally takes care of addicts and junkies.

      The Three Card Monte is easy though. I hit that one all the time.

      Thanks CLT!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  14. I was once part of a group at a small party. A gentleman (unfortunately elderly) had a stray orb that had come dislodged and was peeking out of his short shorts (by peeking I mean in full glory) while his legs were prominently splayed while sitting as is the custom of manly men. Of course most of us pretended not to notice. It was too much for one of the ladies. She brought it to his attention whereupon he quite dramatically tucked it back in (using the same hands to refill our beverages). What is the proper thing to do? Mention it discretely after excusing yourself and the offending party? Keep it in your peripheral vision? Start howling at any lame joke offered to relieve your splitting guts? Not sure, but I do know that the lady’s direct and pointed acknowledgement was probably not the way to go (I would write and ask Miss Manners but I don’t think this topic would see the light of day).

    Comment by elizabeth3hersh | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  15. I laughed out loud while reading your comment Elizabeth, because that would be exponentially worse, happening at a party.

    I’m not sure but I presume that the staring, gray orb would have eventually led me to a rude ‘outing’ myself. I’d feel that there was no other recourse.

    I think Mrs. Manners would probably suggest that a man of that same age group allow his nut sack to break free and to only tuck it back in once he’d made eye contact and the appropriate ‘you too!’ gestures.

    Thanks Elizabeth!

    Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 14, 2011 | Reply

  16. Umm, I’ll raise you one ball dangling guy for the small dicked man who exercises in skimpy tight grey cotton bike shorts. AND…hell, yes I stare but with my twisted repulsed look face 😦

    Comment by frigginloon | July 22, 2011 | Reply

    • Like Johnny Cash (or somebody, probably) said, “You gotta know when to hold em.” I’ll keep my ball dangler thankyouverymuch!

      Thanks Loon!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 23, 2011 | Reply

  17. “I don’t appreciate it when you run your towel up your leg and one, lone, testical escapes like an orbital, fleshy Shawshank Redemption. ”

    You have no idea how much I’ve missed your letters/words/overallfuckingbrilliance.

    I realize it’s my 100% my fault for being oblivious to everyone else but myself lately, but still. I think it’s only fair that you accept some of the blame. Like, 99% or something.

    ps. I forgive you. Just don’t let me be self-absorbed again.

    Comment by bschooled | July 23, 2011 | Reply

    • Hey B, I have missed you! But it’s not entirely your fault. I haven’t exactly been around myself so I can hardly blame you. I choose instead to blame my debilitating laziness/heroin habit. (That’s a hella bad combination, btw.)

      I really have missed you. You’re, like, my doppelganger.

      Thanks B!!

      Comment by Scott Oglesby | July 23, 2011 | Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: