To Gym or Not To Gym: That is the Question

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To Gym or Not To Gym: That is the Question

January 20, 2009

Okay, so I’ve been in semi-hiatus from blogging for a week now. Not that three of my loyal readers – me, my dog, and my narcissistic, angst-ridden alter-ego – would care. But really, the past seven days or so have been one heck of a whirlwind romance that I didn’t even notice I’ve been departing away from my other true love – ~~fornication~~ writing, that is.

Suffice it to say I’ve been freakin’ busy for the last couple of days sending Shakespearean flitting of romance to HER (more of this in upcoming posts) that I forgot to ~~wank my willie~~ pollute the Internet bandwidth with my idiosyncratic thoughts. Gawd, I miss this – the writing, not the wanking you fucked up pervert. And before I knew it, the Mr. Procrastinator in me has risen from the graves and I become harassed with a clusterfuck of backlogs upon backlogs, making me a piece of cheap hyperventilating smartass of sorts.

So yes, devirginized Virginia, I am still halfway through reading Neil Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors (the short stories are so orgiastically good I am tempted to write one in the next few days or so), still feel sleepy whenever I attempt to peruse the dizzying prose of Garcia-Marquez’s Love in The Time of Cholera, still stuck in a mediocre Level One Armor for my Monster Hunster 2 character, still blurry in composing my thoughts for a My Favorite Book Contest in a national daily (I’ve been a winner once; I’d like to get five thousand grand NBS GC’s and glorify my name in print again. Haha!), ~~still possessing an above-average schlong~~ still not finished in transferring my mobile contacts to my new Nokia phone, still not weeded out and reorganized the MP3 songs I’ve downloaded to my PSP, and still haven’t realized my over-delayed desire to hit the gym and get that buff body every gay and girl in town swoons for. Whew!

I would like to emphasize on the last piece of to-do as I badly need to equip this courting, romantically sappy cheese ball that is me with well-built muscles and defined pecs and abs. Nope, not the kind of OA pectoral contours Arnold Schwarzenegger is famous for and which you want to run away from for fears that the gargantuan piece of flesh bursting with violet veins and acacia roots might explode on you any moment. Rather, the sort of muscle build-up that will have ~~every gay and sugar mama salivate over your hunk-of-a-body and get your number to lick away your Samsonian strength~~ the impression of sturdiness and strength and dependability on you.

You see, according to studies, women in general gravitate towards men whose shoulders are broad and whose body frame are as close as our uncircumcised primeval forefathers, never mind if they’re hideous like the newborn Benjamin Button. The thin are deemed weak and perishable while the strong, mesomorphic builds are accorded the feminine fancy. This roots back to the Ice Age when our ancestors had to hunt for food and thus, the need to be equipped with a Gold’s Gym body and a fuel-powered stamina and dexterity. Suddenly, I am reminded of that Kenshin Hemura arch-nemesis credo about how the “strong shall live and the weak shall perish.”

So yes, given the chance to pick between an emaciated Piolo Pascual reborn within a Palito frame and a Marc Nelson bod cropped onto the face of say, that Master Shooli sidekick whose pouting lips are jeezuzchrist way out of fuckin’ proportions, majority of the female population would pick the latter over the former. Throw in the abundantly growing gay demographics and you will get a whopping full force tongue wagging over the shrimp. The rationale behind this is supposedly, the better built are better equipped to provide food and sustenance to their families and therefore qualify as a better provider than the thin-framed. Heck, some even stretch the advantage as far as citing men with bodies to die for can shoot cum-juice to as far as Aparri while the match stick men are only capable of one-time spurts.

An assumption that I object to not really because I am ~~well-hung and can orgasm a cum trajectory reaching the moon’s craters~~ horizontally-challenged myself but more so because it purports the idea that men oozing with machismo are the only ones who have the right to fuck gorgeous women. For one, in becoming a good provider, the criterion does not rest only on how big a man’s muscles are; it depends largely on how industrious and willing and responsible he is towards that family obligation. How could a buffed guy be even worthy of a pretty lass’s adulation if all he cares about are only scratching his idle balls and getting laid by some hot porn star chick?

But then again, we live in a society of pretensions and stereotypes, where everything is measured by yardsticks and where everyone is looked upon as commodities. While I would not want to succumb to this petty generalization, I would want to think being healthy has its advantages. Right now, I can’t think of anything but to make me a replica of HER knight in shining armor. The plus pogi points would definitely hasten her giving me the much sought after, long-awaited YES! Think about that – a man with blade-sharp wit and above-average schlong looks finally leveling up to some Wu Chun body frame. I think of what I could do and it seems the possibilities are endless.

I am aware most guys hitting the gym are really girls in disguise. Several times I have been told these men who enlarge their triceps and biceps by going to a thickly-populated den teeming with barbells and dumb bells don a body-building faux pas. In truth, these Brokeback guys hit the gym to find their Heath Ledgers and Jake Gyllenhaals using the muscle-flexing as an ill-fated decoy to ogle at fine specimens of their own masculine bloodlines. Bleech! The thought makes me puke. And heck, what of the infamous penis length shortening that weightlifters purportedly will suffer from?

So now I ask you. Given my current frame (proudly shirtless and all..haha!), which I have unabashedly posted (shame on you, Lio Loco!) on the upper left hand side, and weighing the pros and cons — plus thousand pogi points to HER versus minus thousand pint cum juice dehydration because of gays and matrona (LOL!) — should I or should I not hit the gym?

Posted by ssdd at 9:41 pm | permalink

Previous Comments

you know, i never quite got the point why society would think men are gay once they hit the gym. would it make much difference if you had all the equipment at home where you can work out concealed from public vision? but considering what you’ve mentioned, that they are female counterfeits, women in general i believe would only want to look good in their body. but i don’t see anything wrong if men have identical justifications.

screw society for setting these norms!!!

Posted by messy at January 21, 2009, 7:07 pm

@messy: i think that’s based from experience. as much as they would like to think of it as otherwise, they have a record to support the notion that most men, with emphasis on MOST, who hit the gym are gays. haha. and yes, i’d rather tone up my body in recluse, far from the ogling eyes of gays and matronas. lol! i’m with you on the society screwing. haha!

Posted by ssdd at January 24, 2009, 1:35 am

HUHLOL I dunno if I’d laugh but your post is downright sappy and funny at the same time! Sappy and mushy.

Anyways, I’d really like to hit the gym too (since I’m fat like that, but not obnoxiously obese–see, there’s a difference with that) but I have lots of things to weigh and do daily.

Bullshit surveys and research. HAHA. I mean, most importantly, most girls dig in the insides (like the undies and all, LOL) than the outside, but yeah–building a massive block would be a huge plus points.

:D I’ve been noticing clusterfuck in this blog all the time. ) What does it mean?

Posted by Kevin at January 28, 2009, 9:21 pm

@kevin: lol! so now i’m a humor blogger. harhar. i’ve decided to buy equipment instead of enrolling in a gym. see latest post. yeah, fuck the surveys and research. women do tend to put more weight on the interior, way beyond what’s in the undies. lol! clusterfuck has a lot of shades, depending on how you used it in a sentence. but generally, it’s a slang term that connotes disarray, topsy-turvy, anything but proper and organized.

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Nice post Amazing, I found your site on Bing looking around for something completely unrelated and I really enjoyed your site. I will stop by again to read some more posts.

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Breathing The SSDD Mantra

To Gym or Not To Gym: That is the Question

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google this narcissistic, angst-ridden bastard

send me your clusterfuck comments

there and back again

rag tag

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i read, therefore i am... a narcissistic, angst-ridden bastard

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