DAT ASS

There’s a new trainer at my gym with a confounding body type. She has enormous hips and I’m not sure if her ass is fat and shaped by the yoga pants or if her ass is PHAT.

It’s put me in enough of a quandary to write this. “Do she got a booty?” is probably the question that brought our ancestors from the trees to the savannah and eventually bipedalism. I don’t know why I care or am so transfixed by her booty.

I’m a bipolar ape. I’m capable of creating art, being compassionate and being a noble and upright citizen. But I am also capable of judging booties and being all bout dat ass. I think it’s because humans are ass people. The age old question, “are you an ass man or a tits man” is a misdirect. We’re all ass people. The question should be, “besides the ass do you also like big ol titties?”

I’m assuming some of you are perplexed. You’re thinking, “no, I am decidedly a boob person. I love boobs. I’ll take a concave booty so long as dem dirty pillows be dank.” I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong - we are all ass people.

If a woman has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy everyone supports her. There’s tons of breast cancer awareness ads and countless activities to raise funds for research. But what about booty cancer? What happens when someone has glute cancer? There’s no support network. You’re just some assless freak.

A woman could have both of her breasts removed and we would still love and support her. A dude could have his tits lopped off and we would support him. But as soon as someone loses an ass we’re all like, “fuck that freak.” A person without an ass isn’t even a person.

I think being all about that ass is visceral. It’s what makes me human. I intend to embrace my ass-passion and try to get to the bottom of my trainer’s bottom. I need to understand it. I need to know if that ass is truly fat or PHAT.

Cherry Coke Under the Table

I'm about that age where it seems a little weird that I haven't started a family. I'm a little late to the having kids party. I'm not against having kids but right now I'm just not into it. I'm sure if I accidentally knock up a bartender and I don't have the wherewithal to lie to her I'm pretty sure I could step up to the plate and be the greatest dad ever. In time I may want kids. Right now I'm pretty comfortable with what I have - which isn't a lot.

I have friends who are militantly against having children. It's not that they would just prefer not to have kids or something like that. Deciding not to have kids is actually a pretty solid choice. Some people just don't either see the need to have kids or are content with what they have. There's a million reasons why people don't want to have kids just like there's a million reasons why people want kids. The people that irritate me are the people who are militant in their resolve to not have kids - the people who "fucking hate kids".

A fair number of friends of mine have said they hate kids. Kids are little shits. They're dirty, they're annoying, they're fucking rude. What my friends don't see is how utterly fucking stupid it is to hate kids. Kids are just adults that haven't grown yet. Their brains are still trying to figure out this world; trying to figure out what's socially acceptable and what isn't.

Sure some kids act like bigger assholes than other kids. Maybe the parents are to blame, maybe the kid is possessed by the devil and wants to kill Julia Stiles. It's incredibly childish to hate kids. It's cool to hate the idea of having kids, but actually hating kids, taking issue with their very existence, is pretty lame.

They're just little humans whose brains haven't developed fully yet and who don't understand that plopping their cock out at Denny's isn't the best way to wait for your Cherry Coke to be refilled. Hating on them is childish. Are other people jealous that kids are getting attention and they aren't? Do they think it's bullshit that kids get a free pass to act like pricks and they don't? Do they think that when they were kids they were better? Do they think they're even better than a kid today?

Mother fuckers, I'm going to break it down for you. Hating on kids makes you look like a churlish bitch. "Oh wow. You hate an 8 year old with a lisp? Mad respect, bra! That'll show the little fuck you're better than him."

Look it's cool to hate the idea of having kids. But to constantly bitch and whine about kids and to specifically single out kids and say you hate them is fucking immature and childish. I mean great fucker, you hate the one thing that keeps us going as a species.

Thrusting and Gaming at the Swolie of Swolies

The gym is how I hit on babes. Now I'm not the type of person who will leer at a girl on a treadmill or the type of guy to slip a chick a note in the middle of a routine. No I do my macking more subtly - like a ninja. 

You see I have nothing to offer anyone outside of the gym. I'm not that successful, my Milan isn't a very flashy car, and I have a terrible personality. The only thing I have going for me is my gains. Flexing and lifting heavy objects outside of the gym is generally frowned upon. If you flex at a bar you look like a douchebag plain and simple. If you are too eager to show your strength you look like a tryhard; a tryhard is actually taxonomically related to a douchebag. Douchebag is the Family and tryhard is a Species within that family. 

The gym is the only place where you can flex and lift heavy ass things. But there are degrees. You can't just waltz into the swolenasium and start flexing in front of the mirror and lifting shit all willy-nilly. That would make you look like a douchebag too. What happens if you get stuck under something that weighed too much. What gets chicks moist in the gym isn't the dude who wants to be noticed - it's the dude who doesn't care if he's noticed.

Check this out. Let's say you walk into the gym and you load up the hack squat with a million plates. You hop into the hack squat and instead of squatting you start shrugging your shoulders and grunting like a gorilla. Then after shrugging what you think is a herculean amount of weight you hop off the hack squat machine and start sulking like you're a god damned Sith or some shit. 

Well no one is going to think you look cool. You look like a fucking dickhead (another species that is taxonomically related to douchebag). You might have more weight on the hack squat than God can comprehend but any chick with a brain in her skull is going to know that what you're doing seems wrong and looks insanely stupid. Hell she might even walk over and put on more weight and start shrugging that shit too. That'd be embarrassing. Serves you right though.

So what's a bro to do? Be smart, use proper form, and use the god damned hack squat like it's supposed to be used. You need to be smart about what you do to get her attention. You can't just see her mid-set and dart over to a more glamourous workout. That is if you see a beautiful cardio bunny gazing your way and you're in the middle of calf raises it isn't smart to stop doing calf raises, grab a bunch of dumbbells and do curls. She's going to know somethings up. 

It also doesn't help to have shitty form. A guy doing shit reps or not doing squats properly is going to look ridiculous. He's not making natural movements. Everything you do in the gym should make biomechanical sense. You look incapable or wounded if you don't have perfect form. So work on form so that when there is a honey at the gym you can bust out a perfect set, get some gains, and maybe make her stir a little bit.

Whatever you do don't drop the weights or grunt to grab her attention. I drop the weights when I'm playing with the deadlift, but that's what it's meant to do. I'm not trying to make a lot of noise, I'm just doing shit they way it's supposed to be done. Same deal with grunting. I'm not grunting to draw attention. I might let a little grunt out when I'm pulling 425 for deadlift. But if you grunt all the time or scream "FUCK" after each set she's going to think you have the maturity of a child or some deep-seated personal issues. No chick wants to bang a dude with anger issues or a dude with the maturity of an attention seeking 12 year old. She might be willing to bang a dude who is physically capable of lifting something kind of heavy and not being dramatic about it.

This is how I choose to hit on babes at the gym. Sometimes I just want to run up to them and start curling things and ask them if they'd ever seen rotator cuffs as big as mine, or if she wants me to show her my thrusters. Unfortunately I know how that would end up. I'd end up with a slap to the face, I'd lose my gym membership and I'd have to start doing bodyweight exercises like one of those uppity ass marathoners. 

Publishing a Childrens' Book

I’m a bastard. I’m a bastard with a heart, but I’m still a bastard. That all said, I’ve been shopping a children’s book the past couple of weeks. It’s been a trying experience since it’s always been a dream of mine to write books for kids.

The main reason why the publishers aren’t interested in my books is because they aren’t sure who I’m writing the book for. I keep telling them I’m writing for the 6-8 year olds and they keep coming back to me and telling me the things I cover are too mature for that age group.

It’s hard not taking offense to that criticism, even though I see their point. I just feel that if I was told certain things when I was in that age group I would have had a leg up on life. For instance one of the topics I cover in my book is what to tell a cop when he asks to search your car. I think it’s utterly important that children know their rights. Now, I don’t think little 6 year old Jimmy Tiwiliger is going to have six blunts in his back pack – I just want to create a foundation of knowledge.

I cover some other racier thing, but again, these things are really meant to inform the kids. For instance I have an entire chapter on parties. I focus primarily on what constitutes sexual assault and rape. Did you know that a drunk person cannot legally consent to sexual intercourse? I don’t want little Tommy Tindersnacker to find this stuff out the hard way in college.

There’s even a section in my book regarding personal appearance. Now, my audience shouldn’t be hitting puberty for another couple of years, but I include some sidebars on the best ways to shave your pubes and what hair removal agents to steer clear of. Again, creating a foundation of knowledge is incredibly important. I don’t want little Danny Diggler getting second degree chemical burns on his scrotum because he decided to use Nair one day.

The publishers seemed interested in the message of the book, but continually questioned the audience. I was adamant that I wanted this book to be published for the 6-8 year old demographic. They countered that it would be best if it was re-written and re-targeted for the 18-30 demographic.

I’m still consistent in my belief that this book is best suited for young children. The kids of today are growing up faster. We’re ingesting hormones that are making our kids hit puberty quicker. Maybe today a 6 year old doesn’t need to know how to shave his balls; and maybe today a 7 year old girl doesn’t need to know how to calculate how many drinks it would take to get drunk. But it’s not the kids of today I’m concerned for. It’s the children of tomorrow. The uber-seed who are reaching puberty before they get out of diapers are the kids for whom I am writing this book.

Just like their ABC’s, cursive and arithmetic, these kids need a foundation of knowledge. I know I wish someone would have told me Nair was going to burn the hell out of my balls. I want to be that guy who can sit down with a kid and frankly say to them, “if a cop wants to look in your car you tell him no. If he persists you ask that fucking pig if he’s got a warrant.”

Swole-nasium

I was beast-modeing it at the Swole-nasium tonight. Just getting wrecked with the weights. It was leg day, and between sets I was screaming at all the hotties, “look at my fucking legs! They’re wrecked. My legs are like the fuckin’ Straits of Gibraltar with the Colossus of Rhodes danglin’ in between them.”

Between shouts and barking at women I noticed a fellow follower of the Swole. The dude was doing alternating dumbbell curls - except he was doing them inefficiently. He was rocking his body, and holding the weights wrong.

I had to help this Swole Bro. Without my tutelage this Swole Bro would get frustrated and give up. Between sets I sauntered over to him and was all like, “bro, look at your fucking shoulders man. We can get you yoked as fuck. What are your goals?”

He was like, “I want arms like yours”.

Immediately I got a slight chub. Damn right he does. I’m fucking jacked.

“Bro, I can help you get there. Let’s look at the form you’re doing for biceps curls. You want to engage your core. Grab a lower weight, and let’s work on different type of curl. This way is just one way to get biceps so big Jesus will come to earth and be all fucking “Over the Top” on your ass. But it’s cool, Jesus was a bro too, so he’ll understand.” So I taught my gym bro how to do bicep shit, and I told him to get his triceps involved in that shit, and what programs to try.

Then I sauntered back to my rack and busted out some fucking deadlifts the likes that no one has seen before. I could feel the gym getting more humid as the cardio-bunnies started to stir and froth in their yoga pants.

Anyone who comes to the gym and has the dick or clit to pick up a weight is my immediate Swole Bro. Weights are intimidating. Before I go to the gym I write two notes. One note is to my family telling them I love them and that I want Danzig at my funeral. The second note I stuff in my shoe. It tells the first responders to delete the browser history on my computer.

Not only are the weights intimidating because they’re heavy, you got fine meaty specimens thrusting every which way. To get over that fear of lifting your first weight you gotta recognize that almost everyone who lifts is the kindest bro out there. They love lifting are in heaven. Like a masochistic heaven, but a heaven nonetheless. They like talking about lifting, form, and programs and shit. But most importantly, bro, they’re there to focus on themselves. Unless you’re doing shit that is going to wreck your back, or you seem lost or discouraged, the bros are going to leave you alone. I swear they won’t notice you. If they’re like me they’re too focused on being too small, and not being the biggest dude on planet earth.

I haven’t written on this blog in a long while. I realized that the kids today just don’t read long, meandering articles. Kids want things to be fast and easy to consume. Well, you know what? Fuck kids!

Well, okay, DON’T fuck kids. That’s a figure of speech. But screw this whole 140 characters or less crap that I’ve been trying to do. It’s back to long, silly articles about things that interest me:

Me

Women

Getting women on me

Weightlifting

Getting women to weight lift

Getting women who weight lift on me

That all said, I’m re-christening this a Brog (Bro-Blog). I’m going to write about the stuff that interests me as well as bro things like:

Lifting Shoes: Can’t I Just Be Pretty?

Free Weights vs. Machines: It’s like comparing sex to getting your foot run over by a moped

Supplements: Why is my pee glowing?

Crocs vs. Sandals: Which one makes a squishy sound more? (Not all are on lifting)

Your Taint: Why you need to keep it fresh

Athletes foot: Your foot is your ankle’s taint

Come join me on this new adventure. Or don’t, you fuck.

Dan's Guide to Internet Dating

It would appear that a lot of people are getting dates from the Internet. With that comes problems. Like, what happens if your date isn't what she said she was? What if the guy sent you pictures of what he looked like 40 years ago?

Here's my humble guide on how to handle a first Internet date.

Firstly scotch guard everything (including the trunk). It wouldn't hurt to scotch guard your clothing either.

Bringing trash bags, and duct tape shouldn't be out of the question either. What happens if she gets belligerent, one thing leads to another and she's dead? You don't want to get the cops involved, do you? No, you do not.

Always bring a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant on a date. Not for the morning after... no, just in case she needs it. Because nothing ruins a date like a ghastly odor.

Oh that reminds me, buy the odor resistant garbage bags.

It's always a good policy to keep lying to the woman. So I recommend keeping literature in your car that makes you appear to be smarter than you really are. Sadly you'll need to steer clear of certain types of literature and books. Namely avoid medical books, anything about serial killers, children's books, and racist propaganda.

If she turns out to be a beast, it's okay to buy her two meals and excuse yourself from the date. Being open and up front about your distaste of her will be greatly appreciated by your Internet date. The food is a nice gesture, since she probably finds solace in food.

Always keep a fresh supply of cement, quicklime, and gardening sheers. You never know when you may need it... for gardening...

Never pick up your Internet date at her place. Always meet her somewhere. What happens if your car breaks down? You're stuck with that on the side of the road.

I would also steer clear of having your Internet date pick you up. Do you really want them to know where you live? I know I don't. I have enough ugly girls trying to break in and kill my pets. You don't need that drama.

Never hit your Internet date. Not because it's wrong to hit girls, but because she may like it.

If your Internet date has a jealous ex boyfriend, don't worry. The guy is probably really weak from playing WoW all the time, and will probably just end up hurting himself.

If your Internet date is actually attractive, try to find out what's really wrong with her. She may have a penis, or she may be an amputee. Amputees are people too, you just don't want to be making out with her and realize her ass fell off.

well, hopefully this helps, ya'll.