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Twenty-five pounds.

I had this thought while I was jogging.

What if I were at the gym lifting weights? The weights I’d be lifting would, of course, be pretty small. Maybe two guys would walk up to me and insult the teeny tiny weights I’d be lifting. They might say something like, “I’ve only seen girls and sissies lifting weights that small … and I don’t see any boobs.” To which I would reply, “Well I see two boobs right in front of me.”

Eh? See what I did there?

When I related this to Andrew he noted that they would then proceed to beat me up. So, as an addendum, when they realize that I insulted them most heinously and begin to advance with their fists ready to get all punchy, that is when I look past them, point, and say, “No really.” Then as they’re turning Andrew punches them both at the same time swinging his fists inward so that after their faces are smashed by his fists, they smush together all kissy like. After which, of course, Andrew and I say “fags” in unison, high-five and then carve us some gnarly pumpkins.

These are the proverbial good times, folks.

Link: Time to get ready for Halloween.

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