Well turn that frown upside down, friendo, cause the fine folks at HYM dot org got your back.
Well, the first step, slamming as much freshly brewed, strong as fuck coffee is on you. But after that, we got'chu. Crank up that volume and get yourself into a better place.
Imagine this, your boi, the lead author of HYM, LLC, on the drive home from work yesterday, tired, not feelin' a work out, coming home to an empty house, save for our fuzzy, orange cat-son giving me the usual warm greeting.
Still not feeling the work out, but I gotta do it. Begrudgingly I headed downstairs to trudge through 35 mins of brutality. Then it hit me. I need THE PUMP.
GOTTA HAVE THAT PUMP.
And it was like the purple unicorn that lives under my (sick screened in) porch answered my thoughts and THIS SONG came on:
And it was like the purple unicorn that lives under my (sick screened in) porch answered my thoughts and THIS SONG came on:
IT WAS LIKE SOMEBODY CAME DOWN INTO THE BASEMENT AND TOOK OVER MY BRAIN AND FLIPPED THE TURBO SWITCH.
Cause I just dropped to the ground and started BANGING OUT PUSH-UPS. But the funny thing there is that I did so many push-ups that I GOT IMMEDIATELY pissed that I wasn't doing any pull-ups.
So I fuckin' got up and started doing pull-ups.
Wow, getting sweaty and angry. Obvi the focus here has been on getting PUMPED and SWOLE and JACKED beyond belief.
But what about my mind?
Well let's just assume that in the above PUMPJAM homeboy is yelling about his mind, but that's just a metaphor for a .357 magnum. So really he's armed with a handgun. Sounds better, sounds PUMPIER.
And besides, all that mind stuff and being smart and philosophical and wise, save that for Heckyeahwoman, she's the brains and beauty of the operation here, I'm just the brawn.
Take that to heart and PUMP OUT THE LAST HALF OF THIS WEEK LIKE IT EVEN MATTERS IN THE END.
PUMP UP AND PUMP OUT
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