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supersizeme
New member
Last Friday I was driving home from the gym after training chest and bis after work. The two most stressful times of the day for me are the drive to and from work, mainly because I have a low tolerance for people that can't drive and there seems to be a ton of people out there that don't belong behind the wheel of a car. So I'm about halfway home in thick traffic when I approach this stoplight. I'm in the far left lane and there's several cars in between me and the light, and I stop short of the line of cars in front of me waiting at the light because there's a break in the median on the left for cars to make a left turn into a shopping center over on the right. This is common courtesy in traffic to allow people to a little space to make that turn which would otherwise be next to impossible during rush hour traffic. So, as I stop, I see this Dodge Durango with a fat, bald man in it directly behind me have to jam on his brakes because he didn't realize I was going to stop short and benevolently create this space for any cars coming the opposite direction that may want to use it. He's pissed and gives me the "throw your hands up in the air" manuever and starts pointing at me. Now *I'm* mad. I turn around in my seat and look back at him as if to say, "come suck on my balls." He takes his hand and gives me the "scoot up" hand signal, obviously wanting me to not give a shit about leaving that space I have left open. Now I have someone telling me how to drive my car. At this point, smoke begins coming out of my ears and everything I see is starting to have a reddish tint to it. I present him the warning sign "You are about to regret being born, fat man" that is my middle finger. From my rear view mirror, I see him give me the universal sign to pull over.
It's go time.
Forget pulling over, I'm too pissed off to wait for us both to find a parking lot to settle this. I get out of my car and point right at the fat, bald guy who is still in his car. I open up the backseat driver's side door of my car, and pull out the Olympic bar loaded with 495lbs that I keep with me at all times. I drag the 5-plated mofo out of my backseat and into the median. A homeless man who happens to be there in the median with a sign begging for money, sees what is going on and walks over to me and offers me some lifting straps because he sees that this bar is loaded with a crapload of weight, and he thinks I need them. I laugh at him, take the straps, and knock him out. I throw the straps on the ground, urinate all over them, and then set them on fire. I take some chalk out of my back pocket and rub my hands with it and then clap, creating a big puff of "some impressive shit bout to be displayed here in the median" dust. I proceed to crank out a set of 8 or 9 deadlifts with meticulous form there in the median, after which I guzzle down a protein shake that I had in my other back pocket. I scream loudly, check out my lat spread in my car's driver's side window, and then hurl the empty protein shake bottle at the fat, bald man's windshield. His entire car explodes from the impact. I ended up not having to fight him. I dusted some of the chalk off my hands, cleaned and pressed the Olympic bar one time for the folks in traffic who were watching this spectacle of dominance, put the bar back in my car, and drove home.
It's go time.
Forget pulling over, I'm too pissed off to wait for us both to find a parking lot to settle this. I get out of my car and point right at the fat, bald guy who is still in his car. I open up the backseat driver's side door of my car, and pull out the Olympic bar loaded with 495lbs that I keep with me at all times. I drag the 5-plated mofo out of my backseat and into the median. A homeless man who happens to be there in the median with a sign begging for money, sees what is going on and walks over to me and offers me some lifting straps because he sees that this bar is loaded with a crapload of weight, and he thinks I need them. I laugh at him, take the straps, and knock him out. I throw the straps on the ground, urinate all over them, and then set them on fire. I take some chalk out of my back pocket and rub my hands with it and then clap, creating a big puff of "some impressive shit bout to be displayed here in the median" dust. I proceed to crank out a set of 8 or 9 deadlifts with meticulous form there in the median, after which I guzzle down a protein shake that I had in my other back pocket. I scream loudly, check out my lat spread in my car's driver's side window, and then hurl the empty protein shake bottle at the fat, bald man's windshield. His entire car explodes from the impact. I ended up not having to fight him. I dusted some of the chalk off my hands, cleaned and pressed the Olympic bar one time for the folks in traffic who were watching this spectacle of dominance, put the bar back in my car, and drove home.
