Freddogg Off The Chain

Some of my friends look like fit fish out of the exotic aquarium pet store tank. That’s the price you pay for too much working out, regular people stare at you and ask questions like “Do you workout?” and the answer should always be “No, I’m a tax accountant.”
And it’s all relative. When I walk the halls of a nursing home I feel way too big and strong and by the way anyone spending their days and nights in one of those places should have access to anything illegal they want if it makes them feel better including steroids and live performers.
What do you call a fit lesbian in a wife beater shirt? I call them sir because I know they bite and I’m not about to pet one figuratively speaking.
And older men who work out a little then wear wife beater shirts couldn’t beat up their wives, like my Grandmom Rose told suddenly fit Poppy Frank years ago “Go baggy you big German faggy” leave those sleeveless shirts to Buster Crabbe.
And here’s a gym aside: As much as I hate water bottle people especially those new one that look like miniature office coolers never drink from the one public fountain in the gym. I saw this workout freak last weak slosh water around in his mouth then spit it back onto the chromium plutonium silver drain and I though you freaking skuz bucket you just ruined water fountains for me forever.