NOTE: The following entry makes extensive use of profanity.
Hey FATASS!
This is your inner Man-Voice. I know you've been using your inexplicable man-pain as a way to avoid going to the gym, but SUCK IT UP, YA GODDAM PANSY! You're balding and have an awkward head shape. If you don't have a smokin' hot bod, NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU!
What happened to athlete from earlier this summer? You walked around the gym in a black tanktop showing off your pathetic-ass arms like you OWNED the place. Now you got pecs and some traps for the first time in your LIFE, and they're buried under layers of Hot Pockets because your Godzilla-ass can't stop eating. Ease up, yo. There are muscles, but they're like fucking FOSSILS, dude! All hidden and antediluvian and shit. And there ain't no paleontologists at the clubs, na'mean?
How do you expect to kick Osama bin Laden's ass in the future if you can't run? You mean to tell me that Osama's gonna outrun you because you sat on your elephantine butt all night to watch CSI: Miami? Homey, that assclown has KIDNEY disease and he can still hobble around the Khyber Pass like a motherfucker!
Bro, I'm not gonna lie to you. You an UGLY sonuvabitch. Ain't NOBODY gonna mistake you for Zac the Nut Sack Efron. Your eyes don't make me all woozy and shit. But you got potential. You could be a sexy fucker. And I don't even mean that in a gay way even though I'm kind of aroused right now. You shave that lumpy thing you call a head, eat creatine for breakfast, and you could be the next Vin Diesel, bro! Not even lying. So put down the remote and drag your ass to the GYM! And get PUMPED! WOOO!!! YOU WITH ME?!?!?
ME: Nah, man. Conan's on. But you know what? I could *really* go for a Chicken Marinara Sandwich. That's healthy, right? I mean, it's from SUBWAY...
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