Self-deprecating Whatever

It’s simply amazing for me. I’ve found myself exercising, ROUTINELY, every day for the past week. I start my day with it and sometimes end the day with lifting of light weights, as in San Miguel Light Beer weights. In some circles, it can be called a round of GULP, which is not as boring as a round of golf.

Seriously, the rush of endorphins — the happy hormone — makes me feel good about myself. I’ve come to love and appreciate my nice rotund shape. Yes, I am in shape. Round is a shape, isn’t it?

My eternal obsession with having six-pack abs is finally yielding results.  I just need a liposuction job to get rid of the fat and finally uncover my great abdominal muscles. I’ll do that after I get cast in the other sequel of movie “300.” It’ll be called “600” and it features the heavier Spartans who couldn’t catch up with the rest of the team that died in the Hot Gates.

Fine.  I’ll admit it.  It’s just my stupid beer gut that I am dying to get rid of.  If one looks like a potbellied pig walking on two legs, like out of Animal Farm, I’m sure one is bound to obsess with it as well.

In related thinking, I think I ought to home brew my own beer and brand it “Abs.” It’ll be easier to get a six pack that way.

Sheesh. That’s me trying to be funny. I probably owe it to a friend’s friend who remarked that I looked like one of those popular funny persons in media today. In my mind, if I look funny by default, I might as well try to be funny.

Oh, well. Dying is easy.  Back to serious thinking.

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