Recently, I have been accused of being something of which I am most certainly not, and felt as though I should post some proof to support my supposition. Which supposition, you might ask? Well, I'll tell you- I am the furthest fucking thing in the world from a genetic freak. Want proof? This is me, circa 1988:
Yup. That goofy assed kid with the crooked glasses, the pencil neck, and the horrible "Texas" map tshirt is me. Clearly, I had a small frame, wasn't muscular in any way, and hardly imposing. I was pretty much the nerdiest motherfucker you'll ever meet. Still am, except that my nerdy interior is hidden by 185 lbs of pissed off strength athlete, so you'd never expect that I'd have a badass comic book collection, or that I read more books in a week than most people read in a year. But yeah, that's me.
How'd I do it? I busted my fucking ass in the gym. I tried every fucking system you could imagine, and came to the conclusion (after spinning my wheels for a few years) that bodypart training makes no fucking sense whatsoever, arriving at very long last at the modern incarnation of ChAoS and PAIN.
So go do it.
Now playing: Geto Boys - Size Ain't Shit
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