Monday, July 12, 2010
Why would I want to use this high-class, superbly stylish, everlastingly interesting blog to write about a testosterone booster. I can hardly spell the word, 'testosterone' for starters. It takes a concentrated effort, in fact, to do so.
I check out the site where they're selling these items and the sight of the chunky muscular chest - Sylvester Stallone at his most Rambo-ish - puts me right off.
I'm sure there's a good reason to have plenty of muscle, and to be able to wiggle those pecs around and impress all the girls - and the guys you'd otherwise be kicking sand in the face of - but I just can't see me hauling around all that extra muscle weight. I mean, it's not as if I need it, is it? I've managed to reach pensioner age without requiring vast quantities of hyped-up muscle, and though I'll admit I sometimes could do with a bit of extra lift when it comes to hauling the furniture around, I probably won't be going down daily to the gym to improve the situation.
And once you've got it all, you have to keep it up to scratch. No point having gone to all that effort for nothing, is there? So it's everlastingly to the gym, everlastingly posing in front of all the skinny blokes and skinnier women, or the blokes with paunches and the women with large rear ends, and everlastingly hauling yourself through some muscle-building routine while your mind goes into a mind-numbing state, saying, I....can't....stand....any....more....of....this....focus....on....MUSCLES! Give me something to think about!
Photo by Ron on Flickr.com