Monday, for Chrissakes? Damn. Been a lil' lazy for the past week. Been staying away from the gym, and dangerously close to a spankin' new deep fryer that I have adopted. I know, I know. Nothing left to do but to get back on that damn elliptical machine and stink up my socks again. Nothing left to do except to load that bar on the smith machine and push it repetitively. I often find myself gassed like this where I just can't find the energy to do more than a load of laundry or two. I need inspiration. Something that lifts the spirits. Perhaps some semi-gay ribbing from a pantheon of b-movie stars. Here we go.
Nope. That's not working. This picture makes me want to burn my copy of Roadhouse, and I shudder to think of that lowly act. Let's try another.
Okay, I think that's the one. How can a man of my particular distinction ignore the utter power of this fantastic and unequivocal visual? Damn it, I'm ready to punch a hole in the universe now. Let's brew some tea, get some clean socks, and stare down that gym e-pass on my key chain. Spartans, prepare for fatness. I'm out, biotch.- Sleazy D
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