Blah, Blah, Blah…

I hate to say it, but life right now is about as boring as it gets.  I would classify it as the calm before the storm. 

I fell hard off my “ride the snake” bandwagon.  I was still eating somewhat healthy, but since I got back from my trip to Vegas I haven’t been nearly as motivated as I was prior to.  I jumped back on this week and am going at it harder than before.  I started the second phase of my supplemental campaign and started taking Creatine in addition to Hydroxycut and Meal replacement drinks.  I am beginning to survive solely on liquids and the weird thing about it all is that I am never really hungry any more.  Here is a snapshot of my food for yesterday, and I feel gay talking about this because the bottom line is that this new diet is about as unmanly as it gets. 

Breakfast:  half a cup of low fat yogurt.  Yep, I said it, LOW FAT yogurt.  WTF you say?  Me too.  For three months I was eating regular yogurt.  Then I asked my wife to pick up my usual two vats full of yogurt a week, and she came home with low fat yogurt.  It tastes a little like yogurt, but not.  If I can enter a weird moment with you, I would classify it as tasteless spooge.  If served warm I would have to question my sexuality.  I still do while I eat it anyway…

I take Hydroxycut Hardcore and fishoil with breakfast. 

Around 10am I will have half of a meal replacement shake.

Around noon, I will have the other half of the meal replacement shake.  I also will take the creatine at this point. 

Around 4 I take my second hydroxycut and fish oil for the day in prep for either the gym or twisting balloons for the evening. 

If I get to the gym, I will get a health shake for dinnner post workout. 

When I get home I take my second dosage of creatine. 

That’s it.  That is what enters my body on a daily basis other than the a standard meal here or there when I get to sit down with my wife which isn’t that often.  This lifestyle was so hard at first, since my true love in life was to eat good food.  And good food is anything that is bad for you.  But, my body has grown used to the fact that I can’t do that any longer. 

Last night at the gym, I was on an eliptical machine next to a guy that smelled like a bag of asses.  Just thought I would put that out there.  I have to begin scrutinizing who I get on a machine next to because I seriously at one point put the towel over my nose and pretended to wipe my face for a good 10 minutes to complete my workout.  In all seriousness, the smell was as if he had sweat for two days straight without using any sort of deodorant, combined with crapping his pants while he worked out.  I thought about it for a good minute that thought that I should have earned a metal for staying next to him for as long as I did, and I will remember that guy in the future to save my lungs from breathing in the wretched stench that this guy emitted. 

On a final gym note, there is a total tranny that works out at my gym.  It’s great.  He/she has hair like a woman, wears makeup like a woman, dresses like a woman, has fake boobs like a woman, but has a weiner.  He/she is ripped, too.  In better shape than 90 percent in the gym.  What amazed me most was that He/she was wearing spandex that explicitly drew attention to his package.  I honestly looked around to see if cameras were rolling because I might be on some sort of joke show. 

I just finished a booked called “I hope they serve beer in Hell” by Tucker Max.  I will share some of my thoughts soon on that.  My best friend Schief is the man behind the Fukudometer and is beginning to get international fame because of a name he slapped on cardboard as well as some Japanese numbers.  It’s quite funny really. 

 

 

 

Filed under: Boobies, Cubs, Exercise, Schief, bag of asses, balls, body, boredom, fat, muscles, ride the snake, smelly, stink, weird

Vegas Finale

I need to wrap up some of my final stories before they escape my head, and unfortunately since it has come down to a Friday post, they are going to be abbreviated so that this one doesn’t go on for 2000 words. 

Porn Slappers-  If you haven’t been to Vegas, you don’t know what I am talking about.  If you have been, then you probably feel the same way I do about all of the illegal immigrants doing their best three slap to get a picture of a girl that is dying to keep you company for the evening for only 500/hr.  I want to go so many directions with this, but nay time. 

I don’t usually feel the want to get inside an organization to see what it is like, but for some reason, I would love to see a Porn Slapper Org chart.  You know, somewhere there is a high roller kingpin who runs all of this, and it would be interesting to meet the many levels of illegal douche in between.  How does one get promoted to the next level.  Is it dependent upon success?  Success can only be achieved by the amount of cards you get into the hands of passerbys.  To do this, one must achieve the unreal “four slap” which in itself could possibly cause injury.  The “three slap” is very rare, but to hit the “four slap” and you have to automatically move from being a porn slapper to one who bikes food and replacement porn cards.  Lately slapping is less found and has been replaced with the less noisy nail flick. It’s easy to see who are “old school” by those who stick to the slap vs. the flick.  I would never take the porn from a “flicker”. 

Vegas for March Madness

It was cool. It wasn’t quite as cool as what everyone describes.  The only difference between Vegas for March Madness and any non March weekend is that you don’t have to wait in line at the sportsbook to place bets and they aren’t full of fat guys with the random girlfriend sprinkled in who you know would rather be a sun burst covered woman on one of the porn cards than sitting in the sportsbook watching basketball game after basketball game with her husband/boyfriend.  The only good thing about being in Vegas during March is the weather.  It was right at 80 degrees every single day, which is perfect for walking around and enjoying the pool. 

Chicago Cub Gamblers

I am a huge Cub fan.  The Cubs were in Vegas for their final two Spring Training games.  While eating in a Restaurant at the MGM on Thursday night, Schief said “It’s Carlos Zambrano.”  Schief and I have a history of saying, “Hey it’s Michael Bolton” upon seing a balding man with a mullet when in fact it really isn’t Michael Bolton.  So, when he said “It’s Carlos Zambrano” I turned around and saw someone that looked like Zambrano.  After doing a doubletake, it really was Z.  He went over and talked to a table of two guys that we assumed in the MLB jackets to be umpires.  After we left and were heading back to the hotel room, we walked past Alfonso Soriano.  By the time we made it back down to the tables to play, Soriano was sitting at a Blackjack table with Henry Blanco.  Then Therio and Lieber came down.  The next day we bumped into Aramis Ramirez and Felix Pie.  In my drunken stupor I did not approach them as my friends had since I was certifiably retarted.  All I will say is that I wasn’t surprised to see them lose their Friday grame 2-10 based on the hour at which many were still in the casino.  If I had any money on the game, I would have likely begged them to go to bed and prepare for the game the next day. 

White Pride at the MGM Pool

There was a guy at the MGM pool that had “White Pride” Tatooed to his stomach. I swear to God.  I don’t need to add anything to this story. 

MGM Pool Rules Outsmarted

The MGM doesn’t allow you to bring in your own beer.  Somehow the first day we got a case in and pissed some people off because within a few hours of getting our first case in the pool, they were checking all bags and denied our second case when we finished off the first one.  So, the next day Schief conceived a plan.  When we would go through the security checkpoint, the one lady checking coolers would pull you aside and look to see if you have any alcohol in your cooler.  We filled a cooler with Ice and bottled water.  My friend B. led the way with the cooler full of water.  Two of us filled plastic bags with cases of beer and draped towels over them to make it appear that we were only carrying bags in.  As we approached the security lady, she bit and pulled B. aside to check his cooler while the other two of us whisked on by with our grocery bags full of beer.  It was truly a perfectly executed plan and the fact that we had to create a scheme to beat the system is sad in itself.  Hey, if they didn’t charge 7.00 per beer at the pool, it wouldn’t have even been an issue.  When you are putting back 10-15 beers at the pool, a buck a beer is a lot better than 7.00. 

Dried Squid

For the record this is not the same brand that Ben bought while in Vegas, but it looks similar to the bag that he opened in our hotel room.  Upon opening it, it smelled like someone had just killed 1 million squid in our room.  The smell actually took on the form of sound and I heard the dried squid moaning as the stench oozed out of the bag.  It truly smelled like a bag of asses.  Ben tried to eat one and couldn’t do it.  He threw it in our garbage can, and we immediatly asked him to put it in the garbage by the elevator.  If you ever have the itch to snack on something and see the dried squid hanging nicely next to the beef jerkey as it did in Vegas, go for the Jerky. 

I still want to hit on the topic of Bottle Service at Body English and Pai Gow Poker, but have gone way too long.  I will try and wrap this up this weekend. 

Happy Friday and have a great weekend!

Filed under: Cubs, bachelor party, bag of asses, beer, drunk, fish, smelly, stink