Daily Archives: December 26, 2011

Why do I have fucking 90 comments on the last post??????

The comments are getting unwieldy. I don’t get or care about what most of you guys are talking about in them anyway.

Hey guys – let me just say I’m glad there’s so many high bar squatters reading the blog. Saul, it’s irrelevant if you squat more than the high bar squatters because to me it’s a matter of solidarity. I squat high bar primarily out of spite.

I’ve been having sleep overs at my aunt’s place to hang out with family so yeah. Over the course of Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday I’ve

– benched 275lbs x 3 for a lifetime PR. /pats self on the back for benching like a fucking pussy high schooler
– c+jed up to 285lbs, cleaned up to 290lbs
– snatched up to 225lbs
– hang snatched 215lbs from below the knee <– I guess a PR
– back squat like a fucking bitch

Overall not terribly bad. My jerks have continued to feel pretty good. I've been focusing on internally rotating the flexed leg a little more for when I hit up couch stretch, though I should probably do some hip IR-specific mobbing. I think hip extension in my back leg is also a limiting factor in hitting a good split so I should prob start doing stuff for that too, I didn't like super couch (i.e. band approximation to the front of the hip) because it made my hips feel impinged so I'm gonna have to search for some other shit to do and maybe focus on the hip extension component in regular couch stretch.

Saul writes:

He doesn’t train his traps, he’s a fucking FARCE. Has this whole blog dedicated to them not being big enough and the nick name of shrugthug and I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM DO ONE GODDAMN weighted SHRUG THE WHOLE TIME I’VE TRAINED WITH HIM.

This is pretty accurate. I’ve been living a lie. I’ve probably cared more about my lateral delts than I have about my traps in the past month.

Best, why are you so MAD? Look man, I feel like we are starting off on the wrong foot. I feel like if we met through a Bromance app we’d be good friends. I’d say hey man, what’s up, are you training today? You’d say yeah man I’m gonna do some power cleans and squats. I’d be like well hey man that’s cool I’m gonna do some pressing and front squats, you want to get a gyro pre-workout? You’d say bro that sounds tight, I am there, name the time and place. And we’d meet up for gyros, I’d get chips you’d get fries. I’d take some of your fries without asking and ask if you want some chips and it’d be perfectly normal, perfectly healthy. Then we’d go train together and when you got to your worksets I’d be like, “Come on Nate, let’s go. Let’s see it.” Then you could slap my traps before I started my press work sets since I power clean the weight before I go. Then we’d do the hand shake hug thing that guys do and say hey man you looked great out there I’ll see ya tomorrow.

I just feel like you are not letting this natural friendship happen just because I hate myself and my life and act like a victim of missed opportunities.

Karibot writes:

I’ll slap your traps, Brent. How does that make you feel?

Makes me feel like I’d be 15% more likely to PR if you were to do it on a PR attempt.

Hey Brent how was your Christmas.

Parents met my sister at a Korean restaurant for lunch. Mom tells my sister to meet them at KoMart, a Korean grocery store, about 15mins away. Parents proceed to drive to my aunt’s place, roughly 25mins away in another direction. Parents get to aunt’s house, mom realizes she’d directed my sister to KoMart and did not notify them of the sudden, unexplained change of immediately spoken plans. Oh, mom says on the phone, but can you still run in and pick up some side dishes?

“I’m going to kill you,” my sister says.

There is nothing unusual to me about the above story. To me that’s called a smooth operation.

Had a sleep over at my aunt’s while my cousin from Seattle was in town. Her idea of waking you up is to jump on you or to toss the pomeranian onto you. The pomeranian is now afraid of her because he’s old and his back probably hurts. This is the same pomeranian who has been reduced to wearing a diaper.

My cousin takes back to Seattle with her the uncontrollable urge to punctuate most of what she says with “it’s fine.” She also now associates any mention of the word “testosterone” with me because I kept talking about it with her. Perfectly normal, perfectly healthy.

The fact that I am single was a pretty hot topic this week. Aunt told me, “I feel bad that I don’t know any Korean girls for you to meet.” Uncle said during one particular drive, “What would you do if I told you I knew a Korean girl, about your age, born and raised here, smart like you, and single?” This uncle also liked to lecture us after every meal about life stuff, during which my cousin said in Korean, “Dad, do you think you can wrap this up?” The conversation at the time was essentially, “Brent, if you intend on marrying a non-Korean, discuss it with your dad first so when you introduce her, whoever she may be, he won’t be shocked and disappointed. Because – and I don’t want to make you feel any pressure but – ahem IT CAN’T BE AVOIDED – you are the only son! The son of the oldest brother! Of course there is pressure. But the most important thing is that you like the person you are with. So you have to think of first, yourself. Then your parents. Then everyone else.”

I just keep thinking to myself: at what point does the fact that the family dies with me stop being funny? At what point does it stop being, oh haha Brent, oh you, you’ll meet a nice (Korean-American) girl some day. When does it turn into something that my relatives stop talking to me about. Because I’m 35, with rapidly decreasing T levels, and only a bunch of sad poems that no one’s read to keep me company. At what point does it stop being humorous and cute, and it begins to be an embarrassment. Like the relative who is an alcoholic. Or the one who lost his family and his life to a gambling addiction. Or the fucking 40 year old loser who benches in his basement, blogging about his completely fabricated life.