>>> The Hard Way
By staff writer Mike Faerber
February 20, 2005

Hey there pip-squeak, where do you think you're going? Button-up shirt? Roses? Aww look, the little dork has a date! Good luck impressing her with that weak frame. If I was her I'd tie you to a tree and make you announce that I was a single girl with no plans for the night. Because you're a weakling my friend, and she no doubt wants a ripped stud like me. She wants muscle tone so defined that even Webster would be impressed.

Can you hear that, nerdass? That's the bird's chirping. Spring Break is on its way and if you can still reach your back, there's no way you'll be able to pick up any shallow ditzy women whom you'll use for gratifying purposes before crying tears composed of Hops and Barley from all the booze you've been chugging. Ironically enough the alcohol in those tears will only sting and cause you to cry more.

Don't worry, Femme-Bag. I'll get you beefed up and off that menstrual cycle in no time. But you're going to have to do specifically as I say. The first weight you have to conquer is 40 oz. Drink that. Actually, fluid ounces are a measurement in volume with a conversion rate to mass relative to the density of the—SHUT UP! SHUT UP GO BACK INSIDE AND STUDY OR SOMETHING FAGBRAIN. NOBODY WANTS TO LISTEN TO YOUR SMARTS! Sorry, I was once a four-eyes, zero-pussy geek myself. He tries to come back every now and then. I guess the alcohol's wearing off.

But here's where it all went wrong.

The Warm Up

The often ignored step in a workout is admiring yourself in the mirror, followed by vanity-fueled rape.

First things first, You have to find a gym that is manly enough to fit your needs. Take a tour. If you find them offering pilates, yoga, or Lamas classes, immediately tear through the nearest wall to escape. The gym should have a large free weights area. That pansy pulley system shit is too complicated andwill attract women. A good ratio is 75/25 free weights to machine floor space. This will keep the women out of your long testosterone-fueled mane, but still keep them around for a little post-workout reward if you know what I am saying. I am saying sexually assault them and hope the authorities are not notified.

Another important feature your gym (or “place of extreme macho transformation”) needs is ample room for the strutting, grunting, and general badassness that will take place between sets. That reminds me, the walls, ceilings, and gym staff themselves should all have mirrored surfaces. This ensures that at no time are you able to escape that girlish image you project. Self-consciousness will bring over-compensation in the form of lifting.

As for the actual equipment, it must be rusty and have no catch releases. Where's your motivation for lifting if there's no danger of the bar simultaneously crushing your ribcage and infecting you with tetanus bacteria? If you cannot find a place that is well-suited enough to house your masculinity, I suggest finding a heavily-forested area where uprooting trees and curling entire trunks should suffice.

Wrestling a bear or two couldn't hurt either.

The Burn Out

Now comes the hard part, Clit-sack: doing the workout. I've made you a water bottle full of half ProGain-X powder, half Gatorade, and half rubbing alcohol. It'll keep you going and that's what counts. What you want to do is load up way more weight than you can handle, and lower it on your chest. It may take you all day, and you will probably lose your peripheral vision permanently, but once your adrenaline kicks in, you'll rocket that weight off in no time. The secret here is your body's natural aversion to death, which triggers the Do-or-Die rage that society has taught you to repress. If you vomit later, do not be concerned. That's just your body getting rid of excess weakness. Drink more of your water bottle, we sure as hell don't want to start feeling again. Chances are you've probably undergone severe muscle tears.

I also suggest popping caffeine pills and a few Red Bulls. If you allow yourself to fall asleep, there's a good chance you'll never wake up. I don't know the exact chemical reason behind this, but I think it has something to do with sleep being too feminine for you in this state of utter manliness. Spend the rest of the night icing those guns, tomorrow we do it all over again. After a few weeks of this you'll start getting compliments on your incredible musculature, but by that time you'll be so in love with yourself your ears will be deaf to anything outside your own inner monologue. Good work, you've now reached the next level.

I SAID “Good work! YOU HAVE NOW—” nevermind.

The Cool Down

If everyone went to the gym, did some reps, and then left, it would be a boring place. That's why you've got to personalize your routine and make it your own. First off decide if you're one of the lifters who LOVES THE BURN or HATES THE BURN. If you love the burn make it known, yell it out, run up to someone and say “GOTTA LOVE THAT BURN!” If you hate the burn, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU A WOMAN! GET OUT! NO I AM QUITE CERTAIN THAT YOU ARE SOME NEW GENDER EVEN WOMANLIER THAN WOMAN. WOMEN ARE NOW CONSIDERED MANLY BECAUSE OF YOU! WAY TO GO!

So yeah, lifting the bar is only half the process. Afterwards you must put on your big performance telling everyone just how hard it was. Scream it out, wrench your face in pain, try to stretch out those tense muscles, let the testosterone have its voice. After all this conclude with “WOOO…YEAH!” and bathe in your applause for just as William Shakespeare (the bodybuilder) said, “All the weight room is a stage.” Anyways if that doesn't get you some ass, perhaps you should try switching to the other side.

Meaning work out your left arm, Gay-dick.

Weak Guy: Does this Pro-Gain X powder really work?
Store Clerk: Yeah just look at me, dude. I use that stuff all the— Do you hear police sirens?
Weak Guy: Wow, you're huge… but I heard it shrinks your genitals. What girl would voluntarily choose to get with that?
Store Clerk: Not a factor, dude.
Weak Guy: What do you mean?
Store Clerk: Look kid, I think the bitch squealed on me. I'm outta here.