Please Consult A Physician Before Using This Post

My friend walks up to me the other day and says, "Hey, do you know if there's a vet clinic anywhere around here?" Then he flexes both his biceps, looks at them with mock concern and says, "Cuz these pythons are SICK!"

Yes, that joke's terrible. But not so terrible that I didn't try to re-tell it 30 seconds later. I learned 2 things as a result. a), if you re-tell that joke, it will still suck the 2nd time. And b), girls don't even understand what you're talking about.They'll be like, "You have snakes? That's gross. I don't care if they're not feeling well." Nevertheless, my friend's reptile problem got me thinking about my own rather prodigious pythons. See, I've never needed a personal trainer, as I was born with an almost obscene amount of muscle mass, obscene meaning, "Where the $%#@ did that guy's muscle mass go?"

I guess it's not so much that I have none at all, it's just I thought I'd have more by now. I see these magazine articles talking about massive gains in 3 weeks, and I have to wonder: Is that 3 earth weeks? Time travel weeks? I've been working out for 15 years--using Men's Fitness logic, I should be about as big as a motor home. However, if you think I'm gonna quit trying, you have no idea. You know nothing about me, because you never bothered to learn. You don't know what makes me love, what makes me laugh, what makes me cry. You need to spend time with a person to figure those things out. It's called caring about someone, maybe you've heard of it. Ok, I've been wanting to say that for awhile now, but it never seemed like the right time. As opposed to now. Anyway, we can talk about it later.

What I'm getting at is, when I do something, I go all the way with it. My 7 year old nephew likes to play basketball, but if he's going to step to me with his weak 7-year-old-nephew game, then so be it. May the best man win, even though he never does. If I'm having tea and crumpets? Same thing. I will have tea and crumpets in an extreme way. And if I can't punish myself Rocky-style each and every time I pump iron, what's the point? Trying to figure out that hot blonde's workout schedule so you can know when to go to the gym? That's important, but the manager said stop, and I can respect that.

No, I think the real point is to attain the eye of the tiger. The fact that I understand this is what enables me to continue flailing away in the weight room, despite muscle gains that would only be perceptible if you had an electron microscope. I'll tell you right now, I have no interest in an exercise regimen where the central theme is not attaining that eye of the tiger. Unless my prospective trainer can design a workout program specifically for that purpose, we have nothing to discuss. He'll sit there talking about stuff which has nothing to do with attaining the eye of the tiger, like how I'm doing the exercise completely wrong, and I'll barely be listening. Just staring off into space, basically. If he wants to take up all our time talking about how I'm sitting on the leg machine backwards, that's his prerogative. Each of us have our own fitness goals, apparently that's his.

I'll admit I'm not entirely sure what the next step will be, after I have acquired the eye of the tiger. All I know is it's what I need. I need it like I need oxygen. And I shall have it, even if anabolic steroids are required in massive doses. I'll shoot that stuff directly into my left ventricle if you want. Don't think I won't. As I've explained, I'm fairly motivated, and when it comes to significantly increasing my chances of liver failure, well, I'm in with both feet. Ok, I guess that's my plan then. Problem solved.

Note to kids and teens: Don't use anabolic steroids. The only reason I'm going to use them is because they make you more attractive and really strong, like superman.