The Underly Wordy Motivational Poster

Who wrote this?   This guy...

If Captain Caveman could put on compression socks, I don't think he would, even because he can.

If Yoda was feeling a little chunky, went to his local crossfit box, and then visited a grammar workshop, he might pen this.

I don't think anyone ever said they couldn't.  Why is this crossfit person so disagreeable.

Hey man, you CAN all day long.  You CAN EVEN in those funny socks.  You CAN EVEN WANT, if you want.

Finally - A Good Motivational Poster

I haven't read the words yet.  I'm probably not going to.

Hey Gurlllll

Probably says something about side-boob or something.

Thanks to my friend Furballerz for this. 

The Wordiest Motivational Poster Eh-vurr

LOLwhut?

Grammar: 5

This guy: 0

 

I stopped reading at 'pizza.'

This poster brought to you by 'Psycho ex-girlfriend!'

Where did you stop reading?  Leave a note in the comments section. 

The "I Never Sleep!!!" Motivational Poster

Here's another case of someone not using their "Waaaaiiit a minute" filter in their brain:

Something is missing...

I don't want to put words into anyone's mouth, especially someone that wears compression socks, but I believe what they meant to say was:

Working out is easier than not eating Twinkies

One can replace Twinkies with Pringles, Bacon, BDubs, Nacho Bel Grande or Timbits and draw the same conclusion.

As written, I envision some poor, tired crossfitter suffering between workouts.

I can haz crossfit?

Perhaps STRENGTH-author doesn't sleep.  If they do, I'm sure they don't sleep with a plate. Not even the slothiest of sloths have plates in their beds. 

So let's assume we can eliminate sleepy-time from the phrase.  Assuming 8 hours for sleep, 1 hour for the workout, 30 minutes for drive-time, parhaps I have a job...so 9 hours for my job, and 30 minutes for bathroom breaks...I really only have to use plate control for 5 hours.  Paleo-lovers eat for about 4 hours per day, so I only need to have controla de la plata for una hora.  Easy peasy lemon squeezy.  BOOM!  FIFY

The Overly Wordy Motivational Poster

I'm not really sure what’s worse:  motivational posters or the people that share/like/link/tweet/retweet them.  I’m not sure if they really even read these through.  I’m certain they don’t challenge them.  There’s no, “Waaaaiiiit a minute…” light that goes on in their heads.

If it’s over 6 words, I stop reading and go get a salty, fried snack.  You really don’t have to motivate me much to grab a sleeve of Pringles.  This one kind of hurt my feelings though, mainly because I like food and don’t want to feel like a junkie:

First, food is not a drug and it’s not used to treat anxiety.  If it was, we’d see lots of fat, poor people because they don’t have enough money to pay the bills.  We’d see them at places that have cheap food, like Wal Martz or Burger Kingz.  We’d see them wearing shirts with Tweety Bird on them and driving cars with Monster Energy Drink stickers.  Food can’t be a drug.

I didn’t just want to take my own word for it, so I contacted my dietician friend.  That means she is an expert on diets.  For the sake of anonymity, I’ll refer to her as Nurse Betty. 

Is food really a drug? Betty said the following:

Nurse Betty’s blue iMessage reply pretty much confirms that:

1.     Food is a drug

2.     Pringles Sour Cream and Onion may be at the top of that list

3.     Betty has an iPhone and my 4G signal sucks at my house

Perhaps it’s not the MOST abused anxiety drug, though, as the motivational poster proclaimed.  I gotta think that crack cocaine or heroin would ease anxiety better than a sleeve of chips.  Somewhere, there’s a homeless guy out there in -5°F weather sleeping in a box, probably quite anxious about his toes turning black.  I can’t imagine he’s thinking, “Holy @#$%, I need some Pringles to calm me down!”

So I’ll conclude that heroin and crack are better suited to treat anxiety.  Part 1…done.  On to part 2, the overly syllabic I-can’t-even-say-it-right part.

Underutilized antidepressant.  Un-derrr-you-TIL-eye-zuhd ANT-eeee-duh-press-uhnt.  This was difficult to say sober, so before I wrote this, and after I texted Nurse Betty, I drank 6 Lime-a-Ritas and said it repeatedly.  That “er-U-til” part is really tricky when you’re wasted.  For a visual effect of how I felt, lie down on your back, have someone spread 6 emtpy cans around you, close one eye, stare at the ceiling with the other, grab your bottom lip and then say “UNDERRRRUTILIZUHD.”

UNDERRRRUTILIZUHD… UNDERRRRUTILIZUHD… UNDERRRRUTILIZUHD… UNDERRRRUTILIZUHD

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“Resthearch.”

“Oh.  Can I get this app?  It only costs $4.99.”

L8rz

J McPringles

I Hate Nicknames

I hate nicknames. Not all nicknames. I hate those that I can’t piece together. Take J McFizzle, for instance. Any 12 year-old white kid who thinks he’s a ‘Gangsta’ knows what I’m getting at. Conversely, if I were to end a musing with…

L8rz,

Brian

You’d ask, “Who is Brian?”

“It’s me. It’s my new nickname. Get it?"

“Huh. How’d you get it?” 

“I made it up. I’m smart, like a brain, but I thought I’d be clever and switch the vowels. Now I’m ‘Brian’.”

See. That’s just senseless. Gladys, my sister does this. She calls her kids Bug and Rug. The oldest one used to be McGee, but he seems to have disassociated himself with her nickname fetish. The two that kept their –ug derivative names don’t even have names remotely close to ending in –ug. In order to link nickname to real name, you need to grab a six pack, a pillow and the television remote to listen to her explain the backstory. I just call them the names on their birth certificates…Inky and Stinky.

I think nicknames should be abolished, illegal, or easy to follow. My friend John is painfully white. He’s as white as you can be without being translucent. We call him ‘Vanilla.’ That’s so easy…it’s like ‘Hey, Vanilla! Get over here.” Everyone knows who we are talking about because he's the only blue-ish person around. If he did crossfit, even when he was in ‘Beast-mode,’ we would still call him Vanilla. BOOM! Vanilla!

L8rz,

Brian