OK. I Get It. You're Muscular!!.

Why do people with big muscles feel the need to constantly remind the world that they…have big muscles?

I’m all about physical fitness. No doubt about it. People who work out generally enjoy a higher quality of life. Everybody should try to incorporate some sort of excercise into their lifestyle activities. I can’t stress the importance of this enough.

Now that I got that first paragraph out of the way, I have to ask this question: Why do people with big muscles feel the need to constantly remind the world that they do, in fact, have big muscles? Usually, it’s quite evident. Either you have big muscles, or a bunch of radioactive mosquitos out of a Godzilla movie whipped your ass and bit you all over your body. Let me tell you all what happened on Wednesday to give you some insight on how this question came to mind.

I went to an event at work, and after it was over, I was walking out with the lady who sat next to me during the event. We were talking while heading towards the door, and this muscle-bound man in a Shaquille O’Neal jersey stomped in with an angry look on his face. He was the type of guy that looked like he ate a box of Wheaties for breakfast, sprinkled with steroids and infants. The man’s shoulders looked like bowling balls, like some kind of Negro Mutant Ninja Turtle. He was storming forward pretty fast at a pace that was not quite running, but a step faster than that “power walking” stuff that old people do for excercise.

I saw him, but the lady walking with me did not. As soon as I said ”Watch out!” Shaq jersey man’s shoulder hit her and damn near spun her around. The worst part is that the guy just kept on going as if nothing happened. I honestly think if he had knocked her down, he would have walked back, stood over her and yelled out “AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH” like martin keown once did van nistelrooy(arsenal vs man u 2004) ya remember?!!. Not do what a normal person would do: apologize for being a big, angry, possibly creatine mood swing suffering man who just gave a shoulder block to a woman.

Of course, I said something, but luckily he didn’t hear me. I would have had to have done something crazy, like stab him in the eyeball or set his nuts on fire to win that fight. I would imagine someone that big can take a punch or twelve. I think I subconsciously waited until he was out of earshot to call him a jackass. You can call me all kinds of things, but ”suicidal” is not one of them.

That event made me wonder why muscle-bound people do some of the things that they do. Like wearing little-ass clothes.

I know you can find a shirt that fits, and Stevie Wonder can see that you have muscles, so the extra-smedium shirt is not necessary. Stop cutting off your circulation and give your little nephew his shirt back! If I can see your heart beating, then something is terribly wrong. That’s the real reason this guy’s veins are bulging out…HE CAN’T BREATHE! The model above was rumored to have been found dead of nipple asphyxiation mere hours after the photo shoot. R.I.P., you tight titty t-shirt wearing ass clown......JINGA TYPE!!

On a closing note, I would like to tell all of the people out there with big muscles reading this that my intention is not to make fun of you. My intention is to help keep you all from playing yourselves. Continue to do what you do, just buy some clothes that fit, and stop trying to show off so much. We know you’re proud. We know you worked hard. That said, you need to know that the type of behavior that I wrote about is considered obnoxious by just about everybody. ....au sio?

Fire On My Ass!!!.....or is it vice versa??

Warning: The following entry contains toilet humor. If that sort of thing is not your cup of tea, well then…I guess you won’t be getting your damned cup of tea. Go on and stick that up your pipe and smoke it!

Ladies and Gentlemen out there, I pose this question: How many of you have ever been betrayed by your butt-crack? I’m not talking about extreme conditions, like elderly people who wear adult diapers because they have no control of themselves. I mean folks who normally have firm control over all of their bodily functions, only to have your booty one day build up the nerve to act unruly and start acting like it runs the show. Thanks to some half-price produce, I know this feeling.

A few months ago, I was grocery shopping at tesco's and a sign caught my eye. It read: “Strawberries £1.49 with card.”

To me, the combination of “cheap” and “strawberries” was too good to pass up. I decided right then, that I was going to buy a pack and snack on them once I got home. Nevermind the fact that it took me 10 minutes of searching to find a pack of strawberries that did not look as if they had been beaten by their husbands. Yes, these were the strawberries that wore makeup and dark glasses around the other berries in the patch, in order to hide the signs of abuse. Despite this glaring warning sign, I figured that this was probably the last day that they’d be edible, so I took my chances and bought the battered produce anyway.

That evening, I ate about half of them before a couple of friends came over. When they arrived, people saw the remaining strawberries and said they looked like something from an episode of CSI or The X-Files. I laughed it off, but about an hour later, the laughter stopped. That’s when my butthole betrayed me.

While we were all watching TV, I felt my stomach lock up on me the same way it wold had I been punched in it. Only thing is, this punch came from within. So I got up and excused myself to go do number 2. I thought I would be able to be discreet, but my butthole had other plans..

I sat on the toilet, and instead of quietly doing my business, my butt let out the loudest “BRRRRRRRRRRRRRAP” sounding noise known to man. It was almost as if my ass were doing an impression of The Human Beat Box from The Fat Boys. Not only that, but during the course of my bad produce-induced trip to the restroom, various other noises were released. My butt would decide to pretend to be Bobby brown on a day that guests were over.

When I was done, walking out of that room was like walking that green mile to the electric chair. I knew I was gonna get it. Folks started out asking if I was alright, then I got joked for eating those strawberries of death. People even said I was in there playing the ass trumpet. All I know is, I learned my lesson about buying marked down items that look like they have about a day of shelf-life left in the grocery store. That’s asking for a butt mutiny!

London Underground Speech Man

Hey lemme say this first i've missed bloggin...........damn!!....can't believe its been a month.....busy with some work stuff and a small course i had to go through so my time was limited but i've got lots to say....i guess my prowess usually comes to show at this time of the year....spring baby!!I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Warm Spring weather brings out the crazy people. I usually love this time of year. The sun shines brighter, the women wear less, and the temperature is just right. Apparently, crazy folks like Spring, too, because you start seeing them all over the place in London once the weather breaks.

Last week, I took the bus home from work, and there was an old bald man who looked to be about 70, in a tan Members Only-style jacket on there. Of all the people on the bus, he decides that I am the ideal person to try to strike up conversation with, since, well...that's just what happens whenever I ride public transportation. I basically ignored him and nodded my head once while avoiding all eye contact. So after about three minutes of him giving a speech about how all the white people on the bus were going to get sick and die because they weren't wearing enough clothes, he realized I wasn't paying attention and decided to find a different target.

The crazy guy noticed this 40-something Hispanic lady, and apparently was smitten. He started sweet talking her from across the bus, saying "I want to see you later, baby! I've got something for you. Something that can make you feel real good! We can have fun all night long! ALL NIGHT LONG! I'm serious. ALL. NIGHT. LONG."

So at this point, I'm almost in tears from trying not to laugh out loud in front of the guy. It got harder to not laugh when I took a glance at him and saw that he was staring intently at the lady as if he were on a mission. He did not crack a smile the whole time he was looking at her and talking. She ignored him too, and he got off the bus. The lady and I got off at the same stop, and she looked at me and said "Did you hear what that fool was saying to me?!"

It was so funny, that I called my friend Zulekha to tell her about it. She said that an old man walked up to her on the train bakerloo near queens park and started telling her to remember to eat vegetables every day. I asked her if he had on a tan Members Only-looking jacket on, and she said "YES! Oh my God, he got you too?"

We concluded that Old Man Members Only must have spent his day traveling around the city on the bus and train, starting random conversations with any and everybody who crossed his path. Had the weather been cold, he would have probably kept his behind in the house and yelled at the TV or something. Alas, it was warm out, so he decided to take a field trip. Only in London. Only in the Springtime.......i'm off to southall now......gotta chew some khat.....gomba!!....its friday!...or should i say furahiday!!!!.....its been since i had some fun with my boyz!