Somewhere Under This Keg, Lies A Six-Pack
Every year I always say I want to lose some weight, I want to get fit, I want to go to the gym and sweat my ass off. Unfortunately my desire to eat, drink and be merry always wins. I’d much rather make my favorite pasta dish with garlic toast than run on a treadmill. I’d much rather drink a pitcher of my favorite beer with my buddies than have them spot me while I do squats. I’d much rather hear my kids say, “Dad you look like a superhero!” , rather than “Dad you look pregnant.”
Every year I get inspired and motivated to shake the keg away and reveal the six pack, washboard abs that have been dying to come out! I’m going to shed off all this extra weight and oil my body up everywhere I go, no matter where I go! People are going to walk up to me, asking to touch my muscles and I will proudly flex for them and make ducky faces while doing so. I will buy t-shirts that are too small and they will be so tight that one might think they were painted on me. I’m going to flex for no f*cking reason and stretch my neck from side to side as I stand in random places. I’m going to bend my arm up 90 degrees and point forward every opportunity I get to give directions. I’m going to drink blended steak and raw eggs. I’m going lift people way up above my head because I can. I’m going to buy a bidet because my arms will be so huge, I wouldn’t otherwise be able to wipe my ass.
To accomplish this I need to have a plan and follow it with precision. Gym membership…I will get a personal trainer this time to give me encouragement as I strive to meet my goals. I will need to consult a nutritionist and cut out the junk. I’m going to need new clothes to fit me better as the lbs melt away. I’ll also need a new car, a car with just as much muscle as its owner. I’ll need to find a new job, one that will allow me to flex. I’ll have to find a whole new set of friends, friends that want to work out. ALL. THE. TIME. and we will all sychronize flex. I’ll need to divorce my wife because even though she likes the new, buff me, she will hate the fact that I spend more time on my body than hers. I’ll need to move out and find a new home…maybe one close to a GNC. I’ll need the GNC because they have vitamins. Vitamins will be my new meals inbetween meals. I’m going to buy fitness magazines to go along with my vitamins. I’ll also learn some MMA. I’ll need to buy a few “TAPOUT” t-shirts to let everyone know, that I know…MMA. Some bonehead will challenge me to a fight because he is jealous of my awesomeness. We will have a giant brawl outside of Buca di Beppo and somehow throw each other through the glass window of the kitchen, where I will come face to face with some garlic toast.
“What? Why yes, I would…I would like some penne arribate to go along with my garlic toast. What? Why yes, I would also like a beer to go with my dinner.”
You see this is why I don’t work out…no matter what I choose I always end up back with the garlic toast. Atleast if I keep the keg, I get to keep my wife, kids and beer chuggin friends. I think I have made the right choice. Life is too short to worry about washboard abs because in the end, whether you workout or not, we will all end up at the same place. I think I’ll treat myself with a King Size Snickers.