That’s embarrassing. You really thought you had the will to conquer an apparatus as exalted as Peloton, The Corpsegroom.

You, who have used toilet paper as a coffee filter thrice this week alone, presumed that you possessed the industry to incorporate Peloton, King of Misery, into your lifestyle. You, whose idea of interval training is using the fifteen second break between episodes to heat up a fresh batch of Totino’s, harbored the delusion that Peloton, Bitchmaker, could actually be your friend!

Predictably, you were wrong. Now, as a totem of your disgrace, it sits in the guest bedroom, collecting dust and occasionally operating as a place to hang bathing suits.

Hey, we've all been there. And, eventually, you’ll come to grips with your defeat at the handlebars of Peloton, Tushcrusher. But what happens when your friends stay over? Their smug smiles and behind-your-back Snaps will serve only to reopen the wound.

It’s best to come prepared.

These are the five ways to convince company that the unused Peloton in your spare room isn’t actually your deepest shame.

1. “Ride the Peloton? Goodness, no! Wouldst thou ride the Statue of David?”

This excuse is great, because not only does it absolve you of the indignity of your sloth, it also makes your house guest look like a fool-ass rube.

Why couldn’t Peloton, Calf-Shaver be a priceless work of art?

  1. Its gorgeous matte finish screams of contemporary metalwork.
  2. Many of its parts are shaped like dicks.

Those are the only qualifications for art.

Think how duuuumb your friend from college will feel when he realizes that you’ve officially entered the art space while he’s gonna be spending the night on a set of backup sheets, staring sleeplessly at your rapidly appreciating asset. Good luck at that job interview tomorrow, Trevor! I’ll just be here, monitoring the maturation of my wealth profile!

2. “Why, yes. It is in fact His Holiness, The Peloton. Have you accepted Him as your personal Lord and Savior?”

How could a Peloton be your deepest shame when, in fact, it is The Dawn’s Light and your spiritual starburst? Tell house guests that, for the unenlightened, it is a workout device, but for those who have felt its echo and seen its song, it is the conduit to The Better Way—a life of purple Lycra and 94-pound white girls with dreads.

Who needs to ride when you can watch and worship?

See, you tell them, its screen is a portal to the teachings of the Prophets—teacher-queens like Tamblyn, Triss, Ocean, and Lamb who inspire you to aspire. They inspire you to aspire. Inspire to aspire. Never stop spinning. Dig. Dig. Dig. Rumps up! Life is a highway! You CAN fuck Jason Derulo!

3. “Huh? Peloton? Oooh, that… Hey, don’t you guys love Lin-Manuel Miranda? He does rap, but for white people! I mean, finally!”

Classic bait-and-switch. If you ask me, there’s no better way to demonstrate how little something bothers you than by immediately changing the subject as soon as the topic is broached.

And this subject is a home run. Our guy Lin? We love Lin.

You know, the wife and I just had a weekend in the city and we stopped by a matinee of Lin’s show, Hamill’s Son. Silly me, I thought the darn thing was about Luke Skywalker’s kid, but, come to realize—the doggone thing is history!

And the guy who did Jefferson? Wow. I was tickled. That hair! I thought the real Thomas Jefferson had something goofy going on up top, but this fella? SQUIGGLES!

You want to know what my deepest shame really is? Not catching Lin’s show sooner.

4. “Sorry about the Peloton. When I moved it in here so effortlessly, I realized that my body is the picture of fitness and requires no additional tuneage. Hoping to find a poor fat guy to donate it to.”

Straight up jacked and vocally charitable? Sounds like a guy with no emotional baggage to me.

And they’ll believe it. Peloton, Hernia Twister is a heavy and unwieldy beast. Once you convince your friends that you ascended the stairs to your fourth floor walk-up with the machine strapped to your lumbar, they’ll recognize your physical supremacy and probably look at you differently forever.

The philanthropic element is just icing on the cake. There are so, so many fat guys who are going to die in 6 to 8 months if they can’t generate enough inertia to get out of the mall food court. Who knows? Maybe you’re giving a Peloton to the next John Candy. I think that’s something the whole world can get behind.

5. “Yeah, I didn’t really build that one into my routine. But, remember, I haven’t seen my children in weeks, so it hasn’t exactly been top of mind.”

How is it that your failure to lick Peloton, Shorts-Soiler, isn’t your deepest shame? Oh, that’s right. Because you fell in love with an escort named Bronze and attempted to assassinate your wife so you could be with her. While your wife progressed from the ICU to a trauma ward to a long-term care facility, the courts stripped you of custody and placed your four children in a group home.

So, yeah. That one. That’s probably your deepest shame.


Get 10% off The Second City comedy classes with code PIC. Subscribe to our newsletter for new articles.