A cruel waste of talent: how you too can have an ass like the jaws of a Tyrannosaurus rex
Ah! So you want to be more attractive to others? You want to be desperately wanted for your taut ass, your burnished buns? Do your want your glistening charisma to be enhanced by subtle hand gestures carefully controlled by strong and sexy forearms? Well, you soon-to-be-sexy beast, you’ve come to the right place.
A look back at lunchtime
That boy was sweating up a storm. I mean, it was pouring from his forehead, from behind his ears, his red t-shirt was drenched under the arms and below his titty bones and all on his lower back. That shirt was soaked through. He was grunting and moaning with every pump of the iron. I reckon he was squat thrusting about 300 pounds, which really isn’t all that much for a muscle-bound man, is it? What the hell do I know? Either way, he was frowning and struggling like he was Atlas, hauling the greasy ole’ world on his lumpy shoulders. But enough about him, let’s talk about attaining abs that will get you laid.
A look around
I’ve only worked out in the gym 2 times in the past year. My knowledge of fitness and who should be able to bench or squat or thrust or sling what is limited to absolutely not a damn thing. But I do know this. I’ve been to the gym three times this week and I’m feeling some sort of lightning in my belly I haven’t felt for a long time.
Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t one for working out anything. My idea of exercise is walking my dog slowly for 10 minutes and hoping that the poor bastard has seen all he needs to of the great outdoors (which is really just an unscenic trail around my apartment complex). Oh, I wasn’t always this lethargic. You see, it crept up on me, slowly. Hiking, climbing mountains, working out with personal trainers, I used to be all into that sort of hoo-doo. And then, one day, a love of gin and high-end restaurants in Washington D.C. got the better of me. I found that sucking down chicken-fried oysters topped with smoked trout mousse and then rounding that off with capricci amatriciana with smoked sheep’s milk pecorino and washing all that down with $20 artisanal gin drinks was much more gratifying than, oh, say, walking somewhere. I Ubered everywhere I went (for you non-city folks, that’s a car service you order through an iPhone app), jetting about in black town cars and SUVs, hoping that our chosen bar wasn’t too far from where the car dropped us off.
A look ahead
All that wallowing in the past aside. Let’s get back to the gym. That’s what you came here for. Getting in the door of the building is half the struggle. The way to make the dreaded movement through a doorway happen is through the magic of music. So, for my first day in the gym, I chose a selection of early Van Halen and a run of Slade. David Lee Roth’s squeals are dirty and sexy and, consequently, get your blood flowing. Heavy, hard music makes you think of all the fabulous sex your new svelte self will acquire. Not that you can’t have sex when you are out of shape, but then, as we all know, out-of-shape people rutting about is a sordid, dreary affair, replete with lots of huffing and puffing and blowing no one’s house down. No, you want to be someone people would WANT to watch having sex. Not to say that only attractive people with well-defined muscles should be going at it, but, it’s probably for the best all the way around. The rest of the world should remain anxious and celibate and angry. Unsexy couples should spend their weekends knitting and searching out good coffee-houses. Maybe do some gardening or picking out clothes for the baby.
So now that you are listening to Van Halen’s Unchained and feeling like you could take on the world (not sexually, mind you – my God, don’t let fitness turn you into a slut!), choose a treadmill in the 2nd row in order to get behind the 1st row of treadmills. Place yourself behind a man or a woman with a really fit and tight ass, one that strains against the fabric in such a way that you can actually see the muscles restricting and constricting, like the jaws of a Tyrannosaurus rex. Once you have pinpointed which fanny to ogle, walk at a quick pace for, oh, about 20 minutes and while you are walking, really zero in on that chosen ass. The minutes will whiz by! It doesn’t matter if the ass belongs to some spray-tanned douchebag in hair gel. We don’t care about the person – we care about what the firmness of the behind implies SCIENTIFICALLY SPEAKING, which is endurance, stamina, and a damn good roll in the hay (remember! getting inspired to work out is not about romance and what personality traits you look for in a person).
So now, 20 minutes has passed and your music selection has now turned to Iron Maiden. Because nothing gets you more in the mood to create a body made for sin than good ole’ Satan.
Here ends the first part of our guide to fitness.