I don’t even work out. It’s all work. Which in a way is good. Work does and will keep me alive but I don’t work out. Unless you count 50 pushups and 40 situps every few days working out. I don’t even like being muscled out. I’m trying to slow down on the situps and pushups and not eating so I lose it.

That’s just work. Slinging 50lb bags of potatoes every day, 20, 30, 40 over my shoulder and then some 50+lb stuff. Lots of 59 lb stuff. People are lazy. That’s why they end up immobile and in scooters. I also jump down 4 feet out of my truck. I don’t climb down, I jump. Every time.

I don’t like being bulked up though. I think it’s goofy. I look down on it in other people. I call them muscle choads. It’s insecurity. You know that underneath those steroids is a wimp dork. Mine is natural from work. It’s compensation for something. A small pee pee. It’s like a big beard and a gass guzzling personal truck with dual rear tires and can’t fit in one lane, which I hate. You know that guy has a small penor.