Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Triumph Over The Ever Expanding Ass

      America is a fat motherfucker...and so am I. A lot of people try to quell my self-disgust by saying, "You look just fine". I, however, am hip to people's modesty. No one calls out someone's fat ass for being...a fat ass. That is, unless the person is on television, the internet or a strange person in a magazine or photo. Then it's on.

Yeah, go ahead...say it.
...I'll keep your fatty-ism a secret. 

      Regardless, the lie filled pleasantries tossed my way do little to skew my perception. I am a tubby, fat, fatty fat. I understand that. I accept that most people, I find the effort involved in changing that...motherfucking hard. Physical effort is stupid, hard fucking work. I would have failed as a hunter gatherer. Me and everyone around me would have starved...twice. 

      Therefore, I sit on my fat, fat ass and say...fuck it. Well, my friends, times they are-ah-changin'! Until I  my breath collapses into ragged gulps anyway...and I sweat a lot. Then, after all of that...and ass sweat...I almost forgot ass sweat. Why does our ass sweat? Fuck. Well, after all that, then it'll probably be over, but, until then...DYNOMITE!

Fuck yeah!

      Here's my thereof. Instead of working my way up to my ultimate vision of physical accomplishment, I'm going to fly at it failingly hard. Kind of like the "D-Da" invasion plan, except in my version...Hitler is probably going to a lot. 

My plan is to hit the ground running....awkwardly. I'm doing the 60 day "Insanity" workout. I KNOW, mega retarded right? I get winded going to the bathroom (partly because lifting my enormous genitalia is physically taxing). So, why work smarter, when you can work heart attack harder, am I right? Huh? Well, up yours, Bob Harper. I never claimed to be smart...just...big boned. 

Brooke Hogan big boned. 
(Remember her? Yeah, either.)

      How did I come to such a drastically stupid decision? What's the motivation? Well, despite my head injury (which I'm medicating with various prescription drugs I found in a dumpster behind the nursing home) and my inability to distinguish physical from emotional pain, I became inspired. Inspired by an ill-worded infomercial. It was so pretentious and ridiculous. I was compelled to give it a go. A go in my own special education way it makes sense. I hate uppity people and ALL of those people sounded uppity. Plus, they were talking about insanity! A thing I happen to find fascinating. So, I decided to show up those insanity spouting bastards by doing their own way. With self loathing and internalized ridicule! Plus, it said I can have a ripped body in 60 days. It's practically a diet pill...but, in exercise form!

Look, Ma! No pills!...though 
they probably would have helped.
 Speed always helps.

      It sounds to good to be true...and it probably is, but, there are scientific types that say it isn't. It's all about Max Interval...blah, blah, blah. Who gives a shit. What intrigued me the most was the brain washing aspect. The people in that infomercial are sooo amped about insanity and...well...jumping around. I'm serious. They're fist pumping and singing the praises of jumping around spastically. I'm thinking it's because the exercises give you a form of brain damage. I am hope to combat this, by wearing a helmet and a diaper. Why a diaper? For the outside chance that I do in fact contract brain damage and subsequently shit myself...or piss...I'm open to both possibilities. Everyone knows that's what happens with brain damage. That and drooling.

This is what Google shat out when 
I searched for "drooling person". Thank you Google.

      Monday is my day of reckoning and personal cruelty. If past exercise experiences are any indication as to how I will fair, this will go over about as well as when I asked that a gorilla pierce my taint. That didn't go well either. Having two assholes is no picnic. Yet, if I can forge ahead and beat my own assholes, I can come out the other side a ripped, less fat version of myself. A person that I wouldn't mind masturbating to...though, I am a man, so, if I did that...I would be gay...or insanely narcissistic? Regardless, I'd have a far less substantial gut to reach over in order to achieve the masturbating part of my narcissistic gayness.

Kinda like...this...ugh...
I just threw up in my mouth a little

      I hope to put up some inspiring videos of my struggle with "Insanity" (the exercise kind...not the cool kind.). Who doesn't like videos of a post exercise, fat, ass seconds away from a burst ventricle? I digress. After my trials and tribulations, I'm doing a review of the whole horrific process. A really in depth one...with stool coloration reports and all! Get your fecal checklists ready. 


  1. Urgh, there's only one thing worse than being fat, and that's exercise. I wish you well with your struggles, but I certainly don't envy you.

  2. I just started working out myself (in the loosest sense of the term). Mostly because I was getting heart palpitations at work for absolutely no reason and had that same problem of leaving the bathroom winded as fuck. I'm lucky that I have a superhuman metabolism; so the worst I encounter is a beer belly accompanied by miniature heart attacks. I'm sur that's going to change soon though. Might as well abuse it while I have it. But, I hope all goes well with the Insanity exercise routine thing!

  3. Elton, Elton, Elton....tsk
    Seeing that I have seen you in years, i have no idea how big you are. My skinny, ass-less butt does have a post-child, beer-filled belly. Not BIG, but enough to drive me iNsAnE! Yeah, I distinctly remember you touching my itty-bitty tummy one day after school while we all got high and jammed on acoustic gee-tars. It was like you were shocked at the firmness. Ha! My how I've grown.
    Anyway, I don't drink much beer....just jagerbombs for the most part. I've done workouts, ate healthier, and ran around alot. My tummy still icky, too me. It's squishy.
    My husband has been working out at the gym but he got bigger. Fat into muscle. But he still has his beer-filled gut.
    I want them to go bye-bye! But I've turned into lazy housewife. I ain't got no motivation! People that meet me now think I'm crazy for not liking my own body. I've always hated it. Too tall, too thin, always awkward. But I am learning confidence. I'm sure you saw the photos on facebook in my red bra and The photographer urged me, made me more comfortable in my own skin (and bony bones) that exuded confidence. With that, nobody notices how big or little somebody else is.
    I have a friend 5'3 and 325 lbs. Big booty. Very big booty. But I don't pay attention to it because of her personality and confidence in herself.
    In this case, size doesn't matter. Just eat healthier, take walks and jogs, and supplements you actually do need. You might loose weight. Then gradually add more rigorous shit to the daily grind. Don't be stupid and get right into it. Play Kinect or Wii games (just dance, zumba...) That actually get you moving. It's fun. And it works. JUST DON'T BE A MOTHER FUCKING STUPID ASS MORON! Ya hear me?

    1. @SpiderLizz You look fantastic, lady. Take pride in the fact that God wants you slender. Count yourself lucky that fat doesn't cling to you like so much weighted Italian alligator luggage.

      I feel that if I don't do something drastic, then, I'll just give up entirely. I'm trying to jolt myself into a healthier lifestyle.

      Oh, and back in high school. I am fairly certain I was just trying to cop a feel.

      @Addman Thank you for the well wishing. Upon my untimely demise due to overzealous physical exertion, I'll let whatever is in charge know how awesomely funny you are. Perhaps, there is an accumulating point system, wherein you will be eligible for a discount at one of the after life's many shops.

      @Chiz I firmly believe in abusing your body while it's in prime condition. Over the years, that belief has diminished, due to my ever increasing hypochondria. My body and it's fragile, vegetable oil soaked immune system, may be the only thing that saves me from a horrific diseased death.


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