“Gleefully wacky and irreverent.”

–The New York Times

“Line by line, Mr. Rudnick may be the funniest writer for the stage in the United States today.”

–The New York Times

“Deeply funny musings and adventures elevate Paul Rudnick to the highest level of American comedy writing.”

–Steve Martin

“One of the funniest quip-meisters on the planet.”

–The New York Times

“Paul Rudnick is a champion of truth (and love and great wicked humor) whom we ignore at our peril.”

–David Sedaris

“Quips fall with the regularity of the autumn leaves.”

–Associated Press

January 14, 2014

Gym Notes


I run very, very slowly, as a public service. So that when people pass me, including elderly women, obese people and children, they can tell themselves, “Maybe I’m slow, but I’m still faster than that guy.”

Straight men spend more time and effort coordinating their gym ensembles than anyone. I’ve seen guys with matching sneakers, shorts, layered tank tops, headbands, plastic watches and tote bags. Sometimes they look good, although when they’re wearing neon pink or orange I keep expecting to see a Dora the Explorer backpack.

If yoga is supposed to encourage balance and serenity, why do so many yoga fanatics, as well as yoga instructors, look so haggard, with sallow skin?

I admire those people who roll around on the floor, using foam cylinders to massage various parts of their bodies. They often appear to be enjoying intimate relationships with these foam cylinders. Sometimes they moan. I’d
like to see photos of these people with their foam cylinders, in the wedding announcements section of the newspaper.

My gym has a large, centrally located cafe. So members don’t have to wait until they get home to destroy the effects of their workout.

Even on the most attractive, in-shape women, flesh-colored work-out gear is never a good idea. They look like walking band-aids, or extra-large condoms.

I’ve seen celebrities working out, with their entourages. The use of bodyguards in a deserted gym always seems a little sad.

Every so often, someone at my gym dies, while working out. These people instantly become urban legends, presenting a complex moral quandary. What can these deaths teach us? What does it mean to die while wearing a heart monitor and a t-shirt from a charity marathon?

Men should not shave their bodies while standing naked in the locker room. Ever. Didn’t that image just make you go, “Ewww”?

I admire the confidence of people who can dance around at the gym, all by themselves, to whatever music is on their iPods. But these people should be aware: yes, everyone is staring at you. Is that the idea?