I should probably just file this one under "Do Not Even Get Me Started On This Topic," but as long as I'm sitting here in cool down mode I might as well bring you up to speed on what's going on in my world at the moment: I have just returned from yet another seriously killer workout and I quite simply cannot stop talking about it.
Let me break it down for you.
I was just hanging out in my apartment enjoying a little Dave time when all of a sudden I was overcome with that familiar urge to totally take things to the next level. It was then that I knew I had no choice but to saddle up for yet another seriously killer workout. Rather than waste time thinking about it too much, I decided to just throw on one of the usual outfits I wear when it's time to get ripped and head on over to the gym where I am totally a member (which is awesome).
As soon as I got to the gym I started waving my arms around and shouting "What up?" in a taunting manner to pretty much everyone I could make eye contact with, including that one chick at the front counter who checks IDs and hands out towels and stuff. After doing that for a couple of minutes, I headed on over to the free weights and picked up a couple ten pound dumbbells and started whipping that sh*t around like a couple of ragdolls. I'm guessing most people around me must have thought I was brought in to teach some sort of strength class or something but little did they know I was there to pretty much school everyone on the premises on every single aspect of physical fitness, not just being sweet at lifting dumbbells or some sh*t. Anyway, it was a pretty incredible feeling for me and- I'm guessing- everyone else too.
After giving everyone in the building a tutorial on free weights, I figured it was time to start bringing it like a motherf*cker on the abdominal machine. It seemed kind of unfair to be showcasing the six pack in a coed gym like that but I went ahead and did it anyway. My mistake. After just a few reps on the abdominal machine I could tell most of the ladies in the place were all wanting to have my babies and sh*t. And then I was like Yeah, I'd love for you to have my babies and sh*t but sorry, ladies, I really gotta focus on the abs right now. Sorry, that's just the way life goes sometimes.
Once I finished pushing my abs to the limit, I decided it was Bicep/Tricep Time, which is a name I came up with for the time during which I work out my biceps and triceps. It's pretty incredible. Anyway, to make that sh*t happen, I hopped on some machine with all kind of bars on it and just started working that sh*t like a motherf*cker. Man, I was using the f*ck out of that machine and it felt great. It was right around this time that I realized that I had once again somehow managed to have myself one seriously killer workout.
By this time I was all sweating and sh*t and totally needed that towel that the chick at the front desk had given me on the way in. I threw the towel around my neck and- since it looked pretty cool like that and everything- I figured it was time to call it a day and head on out before I got the urge to do some more reps or something.
Anyway, that should pretty much do it for me as far as staying ripped for the foreseeable future goes, but rest assured this motherf*cker will be up in this b*tch again in no time, working out and just staying ridiculously physically fit in general so much that it's not even f*cking funny. I know it goes without saying, but I will keep you posted.
In closing, I would like to point out that if George W. Bush and that pack of yahoos he runs with would approach their jobs with even half the intensity that I bring to the gym with me every single freaking time, we wouldn't even be in this mess right now.