Monday, 1 April 2013

WINNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Is it now true, and did Franco not say it, in the Gospel of Franco, that the fatarses shall inherit the earth? The tools, the twats, the weeds, the pegs, the Cathedral fuckos, tuning in to the new high definition rendition of the third remake of the obligatory Hollywood action movie where zombie cunts, barely moving corpses,try to ignite in your heart the memories of yesteryear. Here's John McClane again yippykiay.  Vendiprotent arseholes, taking each other down with metal walking sticks and MMA shit, complementing painted on abs. Life ticks away, bit by bit. The Manosphere are in a way, the new kind of aristocracy. We are concerned with what is good in and of itself ken. Sometimes, it is far too easy to get lost in it all, sometimes, its far to easy to be all fucking mulligrubs and shit, and sometimes a cunt needs a bit of firing up, a "you can do it man, go for it" and great, godly things can be achieved can they not?

I've noticed something unusual, something great ever since starting the old blogging. See, for nigh on my 22 years on this piece of rock, petrichor, sun, sea, sand, gibbous moon, all of it ken, I've done everything half arsed. Like literally not a goddamn bit of motivation. I would wager that part of it was because of the fact that the average of your five best friends was like being friends with fucken The Adams Family at one stage. But as well as that, I never really got called out for any of my shit. Well, not really. I was always the loser, the weed smoking layabout, the fucken nerd who defeated both Ruby and Emerald Weapon in Final Fantasy 7 (if you understand what I'm talking about, you were probably the same as me), but moreso, there didn't feel like much of a reward for the effort I put in. When I started eating paleo and lifting, there wasn't any real motivation for doing so to be perfectly frank. When you're young, moody and kind of depressed, you don't really notice these things say, until they're looking you straight in the eye. An awful lot of time as a result, you need a horribly unpleasant moment where the bottom falls out of the bucket, say, fatty mac fatty eats a bit of ham and has a heart attack and because he realizes his kids might grow up without a father, he starts getting his shit together. Epiphany equates to gymwork and weightwatchers salads.

I've found a great way to become motivated to do something though, and here it is.

Step 1: Start a blog.

Step 2: Tell the people reading it what the bloody fuck you are going to do with it.

So let me expand. Earlier this year I wrote a post about lifting weights in the gym, how awful my deadlift was and how I strives for something a bit more.  Before then, I was quite the lackadaisical lad. Turning up whenever, stuffing the gulliver with Chicago Town pizza, biscuits, chocci, shit never ends. But the second I made that post, I started feeling, well, guilty if I didn't go. Of course, I could make shit up and no cunt would be the wiser, but everytime gym time loomed, it was like death in a spastic bin, and this might sound quite narcissistic, but what it boiled down to was this: you told a bunch of people what you're doing and if you don't do it, you're a lying piece of crap and no better than Fatchops Lindy West or the fuarking phaggots on bodybuilding.com who piss and whine and don't do fucken shite. The result? Deadlift is still poor, but gone up 40 pounds, so thats quite horrorshow in my opinion. I've also been in the gym every second day since January (apart from a three week span due to exams, and I hate myself for that) and continue to do so. Nowadays, the burn of the weight, the iron that doth not lie with a supercilious smile on its face, no laughter, no guffaw, is just a habit, not a struggle. And a damn good habit at that en aw. If I get little to no reaction from mates or family or whatever, hey, sticking it up here certainly helps me.

So, to finish off the post, I'm going to go off on a timmy tangent and spout off a couple of things.

1: If you want to get motivated to do something, write a blog. The fact that you've got a couple of readers or whatever, and the fact that you set yourself a goal, online for every cunt to read, will make you want to go after it more.

2: These are some small projects I want to do in the next while: Have a decent knowledge of Russian History (read 3 to 4 books on it?), stop drinking unless I am hanging out with friends or trying to chat up a lassie at a bar (in otherwords, watching soccer on tv with a beer is a no no), understand the following philosophers: Heidegger, Berkeley, Popper, buy a pull up bar, and for the days not in the gym, do 50-100 pushups, pullups and situps. Get some new clothes, the ones I have are shite. These are small things of course, but they add up and add up and suddenly, you're the man you want to be. Rome wasn't built in a day ken.

I'll report back on how I do in this regard soon enough. If I fail, if I am scalized by a lassie (thank you Roissy for inventing one of the finest words in the English language) I'll tell yous. If I kick arse mega mega white thing all over the shop, then I'll tell yous as well and I'll put it intos a book and make a bit of moolah off of it. Sigma for Franco ken. Sigma for Franco.

Nay great cunt was a great cunt in a day, and nay great cunt was a great cunt by watching reruns of Glee and masturbating to the blondie one, little miss spunksalot. Just saying is all. 

2 comments:

  1. Hah, you know what, I completely know where you're coming from on the "shit, I'd better follow through with this hollow promise in case I let down a bunch of faceless strangers who will never know the veracity of my claim" thing.

    Also, props on Ruby and Emerald weapon, I never did manage to crack it... Almost tempts me to fire up the emulator and give it another go. Almost ;-)

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    1. It's working. I swear this shit works. Already halfway through a book on Russian History since writing this. I find it strange that for people I know in real life, it doesn't matter, but for posters like yourself or anyone else who reads this, it does matter.

      Lol. It still would have been better to have lifted weights and shit or meet lassies, but at least I can say I got the knights of the round table materia lol.

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