I seem to have come down with some kind of illness. For a guy who doesn’t get any action, I sure get sick a lot. Seems like the worst of both worlds. I was going to train this week and hit some triples, but I’m going to take it easy, get my diet cleaned back up and jump in next week with my sets of five. In the mean time, here’s a little poem I wrote about how I really feel:
I want to be jacked, I want to get yoked
Ellipticals and broccoli, what a cruel jokeSquats and deadlifts, cupcakes and tv dinners
Only ladies and manboys work out to get thinnerI turn red and bleed on a big squat attempt
Still less painful than climbing the stairs to my apartmentIf you don’t know, fat makes you strong, see,
That’s why I have these folds hanging off meOnly a few more pounds, on my frame and my total
Till I can get some gear, a shirt and suit and get fucking motoTill then, in the gym and buffet line I’ll be
Dreaming of waddling on and off the platform, victoriously