Cloned: The multi-vitamin, multi-blog, multi-grain, multi-twenty-something post

I was going to blog something about Volkswagens or more about my recent sobriety induced insomnia, but I know how that gets boring. So today I’ve organized a group effort – to one up some lame totally PC story about a [skinny twenty-something] with a gym problem. Best of all, you have the option of reading the truth of what happened at the gym, or the not so truth (below). It works out in the end because I’ve been looking for a good excuse to post this picture. Fish heads, fish heads, floppy floppy fish heads.


Our hero goes to the gym a lot, he has to. On the days Shorty doesn’t go he breaks out in a full body rash, followed by mild constipation and a sever drug induced euphoria brought on by the medication he takes to help get rid of the pre-mentioned rash (wow, he’s going to kill me when he reads this). At any rate, he has his routine down path. It’s like mad organized and shit by which day of the week it is. You could say, Shorty knows his way around the gym.

Enter [skinny twenty-something] a sweaty (from playing badminton), fish like creature – new to the gym and uneducated in proper gym etiquette. Like his fishy ancestors [skinny twenty-something] learns best by example. Basically as Shorty did [skinny twenty-something] followed, minus the weight and +bad form, ++flailing limbs, +++sweaty residue on the equipment. In fact [skinny twenty-something] idealized our hero so much that he followed him around the gym, repeating each exercise just as he’d observed it done previously; like white on rice, like dead on Elvis, like a ho in a trailer park, like shit on stink… excreta ( +++sweaty residue). Think wet floppy fish heads, on exercise equipment (gross, huh?).

In observing his recent follower (hommie couldn't help but notice he was being followed) he decided to make it harder to follow him. He’d adjust the equipment to its hardest setting and maxed out on weight to send his admirer into a world of struggle and unwillingness to return to the gym, any gym, ever again.

When that didn’t work, our hero just stood by and watched [skinny twenty-something] flap about. Moments later Grimmis and the Fry Guys joined Shorty on their day off from chasing the Hamburgler around the bush, to point and laugh as [skinny twenty-something] choked himself under a barbell.