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Hey you.

I really thought we were past all this.  I thought we had something special, you and I and your magnificent sweat-birthed sounds.  We were like a family that worked together, played together, and yes, shared a few meaty laughs together.

But then I went and ruined it all by starting to swim as part of my routine.  Or should I say, you ruined it all?  Let’s begin.

Issue #1: Swimming Attire

It’s alarming how many men leave the locker room ensconced in appropriately lengthy swimming trunks who then proceed to whip these trunks off at the lap pool to reveal the male version of “two band-aids and a cork.”  WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.  Let’s get real.  We all know you aren’t going to qualify for the Olympics so the extra 2s you will achieve after wheezing through a lap of the breaststroke isn’t going to matter much.

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You know what’s an underrated sport?  Stamp collecting.

Issue #2: Being Shallow

I know I am possibly traversing a never before seen area of the multiverse known as “Logic Land,” but just ride it out with me for a moment here.  On an almost daily basis there is at least one man who steps up to the shallow end of the lap pool, thrusts his chest out, and cannonballs.  Inevitably they come to the surface, a mere 3 feet up, and make a great mooing call of pain.

It makes me so disappointed.  If you are going to do this, can’t you do it better?  Break your neck?  Sprain your ankle?  Surface like a porpoise in the ocean?  Something!  Anything!

Honoured ... Steve Irwin.

Too soon?

Issue #3: Size Matters

Why is it that I always get stuck in a lane next to one of you who thinks that the bigger and splashier the splashes are, the faster and more powerful you will move? Because honestly nothing ruins the mood faster than trying to achieve Zen when the dying throes of a Harbor Seal are going on just a few feet away.

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The difference being that I would save this.

The End… until part 2.

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