Getbig.com: American Bodybuilding, Fitness and Figure
Getbig Main Boards => Gossip & Opinions => Topic started by: mass243 on March 11, 2011, 05:39:09 AM
-
I just finished chest and biceps intense training session.
I was doing dumbbell curls. I curled 80 lb dumbbells for 8. Good form. This was huge for me as I've been training just for about 5 months after 4 year complete brake.
Gym was relatively quiet. Me and my training partner plus 2 guys and then this tough guy... you know... fattie trying to be pro... wearing t-shirt with some supplement store logo on it ;D (as if it was his sponsor LOL)
SO. I yelled relatively loud and after finishing my set I had of course huge adrenaline peak. I slammed dumbbells back to rack and yelled out something like "Anybody, anybody!"
This fattie started to squeak "What, you wanna challenge me" He was aggressive.
I laughed and said "yeah, there is the dumbbells... go ahead and show me what you can do with them"
Then he started to back out and threatened he can knock me out in second. I said this is not boxing gym, show me how you curl these dumbbells.
HAHAHAHAH :D :D :D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Epic.
What a loser. Have you guys ever got in fight at the gym? And have it really escalated to fist fight?
-
(http://i52.tinypic.com/2nbavpf.jpg)
-
It was cool 8)
I just had to share so I get my adrenaline levels little lower ;D
-
haha i doubt he will ever show up again.
-
Apparently it was douchebag day at ur gym, huh?
-
Perhaps a doctor should test for Tourettes Syndrome
-
You sound like a complete fool. You seem to be concerned about everybody else in the gym but yourself. It is sad that you can describe every other person in the gym in detail. If you were training hard you wouldn't have even noticed them. But apparently they are in your head. Save that shit for high school.
-
Perhaps you two can fight it out at the gym?
-
You sound like a complete fool. You seem to be concerned about everybody else in the gym but yourself. It is sad that you can describe every other person in the gym in detail. If you were training hard you wouldn't have even noticed them. But apparently they are in your head. Save that shit for high school.
Wait... wut.. ???
Are you the fattie?
Of course I noticed him and even his stupid t-shirt with supplement store logo on it as he suddenly started to run his mouth to me. I was not saying anything to him. I was not paying any attention to him.
It's little hard not to notice sum fattie trying to look like pro if he tries to start a fight with you..eh..?
-
e
-
Apparently it was douchebag day at ur gym, huh?
It obviously was ;D
I like to train there a lot and most guys are just cool.
But I think everybody have met the "wannabe-pro-fattie-kid" at their gym... seems like every gym has one...
-
haha i doubt he will ever show up again.
I for sure hope you're right, bro ;D
-
I once told Roelly Winklaar he looked like a bulldog chewing on a wasp.
He growled and threw a wild right hook in my direction
I ducked and it connected on Bob Paris' Jaw, knocking the gay right outta him.
-
I just finished chest and biceps intense training session.
I was doing dumbbell curls. I curled 80 lb dumbbells for 8. Good form. This was huge for me as I've been training just for about 5 months after 4 year complete brake.
Gym was relatively quiet. Me and my training partner plus 2 guys and then this tough guy... you know... fattie trying to be pro... wearing t-shirt with some supplement store logo on it ;D (as if it was his sponsor LOL)
SO. I yelled relatively loud and after finishing my set I had of course huge adrenaline peak. I slammed dumbbells back to rack and yelled out something like "Anybody, anybody!"
This fattie started to squeak "What, you wanna challenge me" He was aggressive.
I laughed and said "yeah, there is the dumbbells... go ahead and show me what you can do with them"
Then he started to back out and threatened he can knock me out in second. I said this is not boxing gym, show me how you curl these dumbbells.
HAHAHAHAH :D :D :D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Epic.
What a loser. Have you guys ever got in fight at the gym? And have it really escalated to fist fight?
Guy just takes my towel and throws it in the corner and starts benching.
I wait until he is finished.
He gets up - I walk over and told him in my normal voice that if he ever disrespects me like this again I will open him up - no shouting no big arm waiving
peope only do that when they don't mean it, if you mean it you just say as a matter of fact.
He studdert an apology and said he didn't know this was my towel.
Same guy greets me every morning when he sees me and I great him back as nothing has happened, he always asks other members of the gym if he can
work in as well ;)
-
Once some asshole curled the 8lb dumbbells for 8, then started yelling and carrying on like a lunatic, like he just fucked a Charlie Sheen goddess or something. Pissed off at the annoying assclown, I said hey asshole, do you want me to shove that dumbbell up your ass bitch? He then challenged me to a cock off, at which point I realised I was dealing with a creepy perverted homo. As he pulled his shorts off I threw the dumbbell at his crotch, then the bitch started chasing me and I ran as fast as I could outta the gym cuz I didnt want to be raped by the creep. He had big synthol muscles, I was afraid the oil weight would overpower me, plus I was also weakened from too much masturbation earlier in the day. :-\
-
Once some asshole curled the 8lb dumbbells for 8, then started yelling and carrying on like a lunatic, like he just fucked a Charlie Sheen goddess or something. Pissed off at the annoying assclown, I said hey asshole, do you want me to shove that dumbbell up your ass bitch? He then challenged me to a cock off, at which point I realised I was dealing with a creepy perverted homo. As he pulled his shorts off I threw the dumbbell at his crotch, then the bitch started chasing me and I ran as fast as I could outta the gym cuz I didnt want to be raped by the creep. He had big synthol muscles, I was afraid the oil weight would overpower me, plus I was also weakened from too much masturbation earlier in the day. :-\
Weren't you supposed to off yourself already ;)
-
(http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zCgK_IKLl6s/TSaxYnhG9DI/AAAAAAAAA3k/XWg3vsvEX9w/s640/033+Art.jpg)
-
I just finished chest and biceps intense training session.
I was doing dumbbell curls. I curled 80 lb dumbbells for 8. Good form. This was huge for me as I've been training just for about 5 months after 4 year complete brake.
Gym was relatively quiet. Me and my training partner plus 2 guys and then this tough guy... you know... fattie trying to be pro... wearing t-shirt with some supplement store logo on it ;D (as if it was his sponsor LOL)
SO. I yelled relatively loud and after finishing my set I had of course huge adrenaline peak. I slammed dumbbells back to rack and yelled out something like "Anybody, anybody!"
This fattie started to squeak "What, you wanna challenge me" He was aggressive.
I laughed and said "yeah, there is the dumbbells... go ahead and show me what you can do with them"
Then he started to back out and threatened he can knock me out in second. I said this is not boxing gym, show me how you curl these dumbbells.
HAHAHAHAH :D :D :D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Epic.
What a loser. Have you guys ever got in fight at the gym? And have it really escalated to fist fight?
omg you are a tool.
the really funny thing is that you think the other guy is the tool!!!!..rofl!!
slamming the weights down..yelling out shit...?!... are you all there?
we have a word for these people around here.... RETARD.
-
omg you are a tool.
the really funny thing is that you think the other guy is the tool!!!!..rofl!!
slamming the weights down..yelling out shit...?!... are you all there?
we have a word for these people around here.... RETARD.
LOL
I'm seriously not that way usually as I have not too much to show off these days...
You never have had that adrenaline peak when you end a good set? Yelling came kind of automatically - I didn't plan it!
-
LOL
I'm seriously not that way usually as I have not too much to show off these days...
You never have had that adrenaline peak when you end a good set? Yelling came kind of automatically - I didn't plan it!
Yes, after every good set I kick someone in the face.
Then I find the nearest hot girl and put my finger inside her sweaty vagina.
-
ill answer your question also.
i wanted to use a piece of equipment that some grunting guy- not unlike how youve described yourself actually- had been using.
he'd just finished and walked off.
the bench was covered in sweat.
so i walked up to the guy and told him, and asked him to wipe it down.
he told me he didnt have a towel. i told him he shouldnt be working out without a towel. it was about to escalate.
i said, that's fine, you can use your shirt. he stared at me for a bit then.. he stood there and wiped it dry with his shirt- didnt take it off...just bent down and all over to wipe it dry.
i even through in a "you missed a bit there"...
-
LOL
I'm seriously not that way usually as I have not too much to show off these days...
You never have had that adrenaline peak when you end a good set? Yelling came kind of automatically - I didn't plan it!
yeah i have it. but i dont go jizzing all over the place about myself.
you should seek some help.
-
The title of this thread has absolutely no relation to what actually happened
-
Some strong arms you got there...
-
It's btw pretty strange that no more fights and arguments happen at gym... think about it... all kind of males with high test levels gather in relatively small room... often young ones with need to stick out and prove others they're the alpha-males...
Just like in military... there fights occur constantly! Maybe it's the time - you only spent few hours at most at the gym but in military you're there pretty much all the time... maybe even young high-test males can stand each other few hours but not weeks, months...
-
Some strong arms you got there...
I've pretty strong arms... taking in count that I'm not huge at the moment. But I've always had them - it's all about genetics.
Don't get me wrong; I've no superior genetics, that's why I had to give up bodybuilding. It's just my biceps - they're strong and even have some size.
(no pro)
-
I just finished chest and biceps intense training session.
I was doing dumbbell curls. I curled 80 lb dumbbells for 8. Good form. This was huge for me as I've been training just for about 5 months after 4 year complete brake.
Gym was relatively quiet. Me and my training partner plus 2 guys and then this tough guy... you know... fattie trying to be pro... wearing t-shirt with some supplement store logo on it ;D (as if it was his sponsor LOL)
SO. I yelled relatively loud and after finishing my set I had of course huge adrenaline peak. I slammed dumbbells back to rack and yelled out something like "Anybody, anybody!"
This fattie started to squeak "What, you wanna challenge me" He was aggressive.
I laughed and said "yeah, there is the dumbbells... go ahead and show me what you can do with them"
Then he started to back out and threatened he can knock me out in second. I said this is not boxing gym, show me how you curl these dumbbells.
HAHAHAHAH :D :D :D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Epic.
What a loser. Have you guys ever got in fight at the gym? And have it really escalated to fist fight?
He probably went home and told his mom that he kicked your ass.
-
::)
-
::)
Hahahah, not quite that bad ;D
-
Hahahah, not quite that bad ;D
Yeah I know, this fucker has been posted here before.
It was pretty easy to get him angry when I wrote a comment on YT, dude got almost an heart attack ;D
-
Jesus, this country's going to shit.
::)
-
Yeah I know, this fucker has been posted here before.
It was pretty easy to get him angry when I wrote a comment on YT, dude got almost an heart attack ;D
OMG :o
I don't think it's too healthy to get that angry at his bodyweight...
-
I just finished chest and biceps intense training session.
I was doing dumbbell curls. I curled 80 lb dumbbells for 8. Good form. This was huge for me as I've been training just for about 5 months after 4 year complete brake.
Gym was relatively quiet. Me and my training partner plus 2 guys and then this tough guy... you know... fattie trying to be pro... wearing t-shirt with some supplement store logo on it ;D (as if it was his sponsor LOL)
SO. I yelled relatively loud and after finishing my set I had of course huge adrenaline peak. I slammed dumbbells back to rack and yelled out something like "Anybody, anybody!"
This fattie started to squeak "What, you wanna challenge me" He was aggressive.
I laughed and said "yeah, there is the dumbbells... go ahead and show me what you can do with them"
Then he started to back out and threatened he can knock me out in second. I said this is not boxing gym, show me how you curl these dumbbells.
HAHAHAHAH :D :D :D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
Epic.
What a loser. Have you guys ever got in fight at the gym? And have it really escalated to fist fight?
80lbs is pretty strong, I only made it to the 65 lbs - but at a twink body weight of 164 lbs...
-
This story kinda breaks my heart, so back in Egypt I used to lift in this kinda crappy gym, and I knew alot of the folks that would come in, and there was one Guy that looked like he was mentally handicapped, maybe down syndrome or autism, but he loved working out and was in there everyday, and I have kinda a soft spot for the disabled cause my brother is autistic.
So anyways this disabled guy takes a 45 lbs plate off a bar that this big Guy I know was benching on but he was away getting water, he didn't know anybody was on that bench, anyways big dude comes back and he finds the disabled Guy with his plate and goes off on him starts screaming calling him an idiot and stupid, and then they start pushing and shoving and I step in to break them apart telling the big Guy that the other guy didn't know and hes mentally disabled ( he didn't know) finally I break them up and there disabled guy goes outside and starts crying and talking to one of the trainers. after that day I never saw that mentally disabled guy in the gym! kinda sad
-
Brothers,
Sad news. A good friend of mine is, shall we say, 'out of the picture'.
Marvin, a down-syndrome afflicted weight-lifter at my gym, went absolutley bonkers. I think it had something to do with the gear he was on, courtesy of myself.
The following is a true story.
The other day, I was in the gym with Nobby doing 1 rep max effort good-mornings with 315 pounds, when Marvin walked up to us. "Finished dat bodybuilding pills. Need more" he babbled. "Marvin, by GOD, I gave you 100 anadrol tabs only a couple of weeks ago!" I exclaimed. Was it not enough that, every other day, I walked up and jabbed a needle into him and gave him a 400mg injection of test?! Marvin had been eating the anadrol like candy. His swollen, mongoloid features were even more pronounced, and he did indeed look a shade yellow! I get anadrol very cheap, so I merely opened my gymbag and tossed him a bottle of 100 tabs. "Bon appetit!" I cried.
5 minutes later, as I was spotting Nobby while he did a set of good-mornings with an incredible 405 pounds, I heard the nasal, effiminate voice of a lad who worked in the gym as a counterboy and 'trainer'. I believe a degree in kinesiology made him a bodybuilding expert. He was berating Marvin. Marvin had left his bottle of anadrol on the floor while he used a bench, and this trainer had picked up the bottle of anadrol I had given Marvin and examined it.
"ARE these yours? Oxymetholone...that is an anabolic steroid. How did you get these! SHAME on you, Marvin!" he screeched. "PLEASE LEAVE...we don't tolerate steroid-taking cheaters here!" he screamed. Nobby and I sat back and watched.
"Marvin has to solve this dilemma on his own" I said. "It's important for his self-esteem. Just because the man is retarded doesn't mean he can't handle himself."
Well, the personal trainer stood, arms folded, in front of Marvin. "Sorry Marvin..those are the rules. You have to go. I'm calling your group home manager about this!" he declared.
Marvin's jaw dropped. He began shaking. "I can't lift no more?" he asked. "Not here you can't" the counterboy snapped.
"It aint fair...it ain't fair....IT'S NOT FAIR, IT ISN'T!!!" Marvin roared. He began screaming and ran over to the coke machine, and in a feat of strength unmatched since Samson pushed apart the pillars of the Philistines' temple, Marvin lifted the coke can machine, walked over to the front window of the gym, and hurled it through!! It fell 2 stories and hit the sidewalk with a thunder that shook the building. Marvin was like some modern-day Quasimodo, a simple man pushed to the edge and forced to unleash his mongoloid strength on those who would destroy him!
A few people ran over to subdue Marvin, but Nobby and I intercepted them. I double-clotheslined two fellows, and Nobby beat the rest of them back with his bike chain. The cowardly counterboy fled the gym. A couple of big men grabbed Marvin, but he tossed them aside like rag dolls! He ran around the gym, screaming, dragging pieces of equipment over to the front window and hurling them through- the leg press machine, lat pulldown machine, benches, dumbells, plates and anything else he could find. As police cars pulled up, Nobby and I headed out. "AWROIGHT MAHVIN!" Nobby roared as we left. "FOOKIN BASTAHDS!" he screamed at the police.
We watched as a riot squad pulled up, fired tear gas cannisters into the gym through what was left of the front window, charged in the door and up the stairs. A few riot police were tossed out the window, and finally Marvin was subdued after a viscious clubbing that would have killed an elephant. He was taken out in a straightjacket and put in the back of an armoured police van, screaming obscenities and struggling the whole time.
Just then, Nobby spotted the counterboy who started all this- he was watching everything, a satisfied smile on his face. He saw Nobby lumbering over to him, and ran and jumped into his car. He started it up, turned to give us the finger, but there I was- holding up the back of his car! He floored it, but the rear wheels spun in the air. Then Nobby's fist came crashing throught the driver's side window, and dragged his 140 pound arse out and tossed him on the sidewalk. Nobby and I put the boots to him, and Nobby gave him a nasty chain-beating right out of the film 'A Clockwork Orange'. He was barely alive when we took off down an alleyway, laughing.
Bros...do you think it might have been the large anadrol doses that caused Marvin to go insane? Or could it have simply been that extra chromosone?
Anyone?
-
Same thing happened at my gym last Tuesday.
-
Brothers,
It's been ages since I've have to inform my iron brethren of news as horrible as what follows. The Legend, Lou Ferrigno, has gone to that great gym in the sky. It is truly with a heavy heart that I have to relate the circumstances of The Hulk's demise.
Yesterday evening, at the Sir Arthur Harris Convention Centre in Doverport, England, Lou Ferrigno was on hand for the English Fitness Expo 2006. Many top British bodybuilders were there, many of them working the booths of such well-known and honest firms such as Muscletech, Biotest, Weider Nutrition, and the like. Lou Ferrigno was at the Weider Nutrition Booth, signing autographs and bestowing his famous kindness on his fans , while trying to convince them of the efficacy of 'MegaMass 4000', a revolutionary mixture of skim milk powder and 'Neslte Quick' chocolate milk mix.
I was on hand, accompanied by the family chauffeur and one-time 'Strongest Man' of the British penal system, a massive, sociopathic outcast named Nobby. We had in tow a developmentally challenged lad from our gym named Marvin. As we moved through the crowed, shoving aside those who dared get in our way, Marvin stopped dead in his tracks. Shaking with excitement, he pointed ahead - "It's...it..it..c-c-can't be..." he uttered, staring ahead of him at the Weider Nutrition booth where stood his hero, Lou Ferrigno. "Yes, Marvin, INDEED it is- and I'll get you an autographed photograph at once!" I cried, only to eager to help. I lumbered over to Lou, my massive thighs rubbing together uncomfortably. "Mr. Ferrigno!" I boomed, extending my hand. He turned and said "Yea..yea pal, be wif you in a minute..", totally ignoring my gentelmanly gesture. I quivered with indignation, but decided to remain calm. Finally, when he felt he could be bothered to, he turned to me. "Autogwafs 30 pounds, buddy" he snapped. I coughed slightly at this outrageous price, but quickly produced mint-condition bills to that sum.
"Could you perhaps sign it 'To Marvin from Lou'? " I asked him. "Hey, wook, i onwy sign 'Woo', okay? you want somefin ewse den it's more pal" he sneered. "Oh, really, eh? Well, in that case, I DECLINE!!" I screamed into his face, showering him in spittle. Terrified, he cowered back, and I, shaking in rage (perhaps it had something to do with having 3g test in my system, but one cannot be sure), walked off. Nobby and Marvin followed me out, and as Nobby and I each drank from our mikeys of Scotch, I recounted the tale of Lou's cruelty. Poor Marvin looked devastated!!
Nobby took out another bottle from under his coat, took a generous swig, and passed the bottle to me. "Well, then, WOT THE FOOK AH YEW GONNA DO ABAHT IT THEN?" he slurred in a heavy Cockney accent. "Yes, yes.." I replied, realizing that Lou must be punished grievously for this outrage. I started screaming, then ran roaring into the convention centre, headed straight for the Weider booth! Nobby followed behind, clotheslining anyone left in my path. As the booth approached, Lou stood gaping in fear, unable to move, as I thundered towards him. Then, using my massive thighs, I propelled myself into the air and went crashing into him!
Everything went black.
I came to some moments later, to people screaming and yelling. The Weider booth was destroyed, and Lou's lifeless body lay some yards from my prostate form. A few 'fitness' models lay scattered, unconscious or, perhaps, dead. It was hard to say. Nobby had followed behind me and crashed into whatever, or whomever, I hadn't! "Oi, let's fookin be off...bloody coppers aint takin me alive!" he snarled, and, helping me get up, stumbled at top speed to the exits. We both made it to the Rolls Royce, as nearing sirens wailed! We collected Marvin and made a hasty exit, roaring out the parking lot, laughing!
Lou Ferrigno passed on later that evening at Knightsbridge hospital in South London.
Say a prayer for his soul, brothers.
-
Brothers,
I hope you will take up my cause and flood the IFBB with emails protesting thier refusal to grant me my rightfully deserved pro-card. Despite proving my worth, the powers that be at the IFBB have ignored my requests, and I sense some form of discrimination is afoot.
The following is a true story.
I had travelled to Montreal, Canada, (first class of course) with my chauffeur/training partner/ex-convict, Nobby, to get my pro card from the Weider head office.
I had sent them my photos several times, which gave Wayne Demilla good views of my enourmous arms, monstrous legs, and overall Herculean development which would quash every competitor at the Mr. Olympia. My requests to be granted a pro card went unanswered, so I had, in a fit of rage, taken a flight to Montreal to settle the matter in person.
As we got out of the rented Jaguar, we ran into none other than Bob Paris in the parking lot! "Bob- are you going to compete again?" I asked. "Well, we'll see...not for now....I've gotta run boys.." and with that he skipped off into a pink cadillac and roared off, the stereo blasting the 70s hit 'YMCA'.
"There goes one of the GREATS" I uttered, with reverence.
"Seemed loik a fookin POOFTAH to me!" Nobby snarled.
Nobby and I lumbered up to the front doors of Weider Headquarters and threw them open with such force that they shattered. I walked up to the front desk, and addressed the terrified looking 'receptionist' with a roar of "TAKING CHARGE!!! GET ME DEMILLA NOOWWWW!!" that was so loud all the windows in the building rattled. "Just a minute..." the young woman at the desk snivelled, and quickly picked up a phone and said "Get down here...now...pleeeaaasse!!".
I surmised that she must have been speaking to Joe Weider.
Just then, several security guards approached Nobby and I, and in an instant, Nobby had his motorbike chain in hand and began beating the guards off, screaming. I grabbed a couple of them and hurled them through the reception desk, demolishing it.
Wayne Demilla appeared, and was astonished to see the guards had one and all been dealt with. "Well, Wayne....where's my ****ING card?!!" I screamed, then ran charging over and clotheslined him with such force that he did a perfect backflip and hit the floor unconscious.
As the sound of police sirens neared, Nobby and I headed out, laughing.
I'd given them a piece of my mind, and that night I slept the sleep of the Just.
This is unfair. I deserve a pro card, and, by God, they know it!
I am thinking of pressing assault charges against Weider Inc. for the behaviour of those security guards!!
-
Brothers,
It's not unusual to run into various types of anabolic steroid users, from the typical male, 18-35, to older folk, women, even mentally challenged bros like my friend Marvin. But who can honestly say they know a person suffering from dwarfism who is a heavy gear user? Well, I certainly can, and he's a bastard to boot!
“midget"The other day at the gym, I was collecting all the 45 pound plates in the place in order to load up the leg press with a challenging weight when, lo and behold, I literally stumbled on a midget doing dumbbell curls. Dwarves are usually stumpy, but this fellow defied stumpy- he was literally as wide as he was tall (perhaps 4 feet), and looked like a slightly taller version of the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I stopped in front of him and looked down, staring. "What the fuck you lookin at, mate?" the little devil snarled. "Pound for pound, I'm probably the strongest in this gym" he bragged. "See, folks like me get more out of steroids cause of our being smaller" he snapped. Then he waddled proudly over to an Olympic bar loaded up with 400 pounds and dead lifted it, albeit his range of motion was a only few inches due to his size. Swelling up his chest, he walked by me, as if I were supposed to be impressed. I thought I heard him mutter "fuckin girl". Later, I noticed him cursing some other lifters, and lecturing them on proper gear use. He even challenged one of them to a fight!
At the time, I was too shocked by the sight of the little freak to correct his arrogant attitude, but I lay quivering in bed that night, shaking in rage. The next time I saw him, there would be a reckoning.
There he was at the gym the next day, and I approached him, smirking, and made an innocent enough joke- 'Hey there, Tom Thumb, be careful, if immigration officers catch you they'll deport you back to the land of Lilluput!" I roared, laughing. Nobby came along and joined in the harmless jesting "Oi, little bahstahd, fook off!" he quipped, then kicked the little fellow over with his foot. Then Marvin, a Down-Syndrome afflicted bodybuilder at the gym, came over, laughing, and kicked the little bastard in the face! He wobbled to his feet, and ran out the gym, screaming "I'll be back with me mates, you fuckers!!" as everyone roared with laughter.
Thirty minutes later, two vans pulled up outside the gym. At least 30 midgets came out the back doors, many of them weightlifters, and all of them looking pissed off. At the head of the army of little devils was the midget we had just humiliated. "Dwarves or not, I'm going to rip them apart!" I thundered. Nobby took his motorbike chain out of his gym bag, and a few other lifters came over. We headed out the front doors of the gym. Marvin came charging to the fore, and ran out the front doors of the gym, screaming, swinging an e-z curl bar, and charged into the mass of midgets, like some kind of deranged samurai! We watched in awe as he cut a path through the midget army. "I say Marvin wins, 10 to 1 odds!" I declared, and with the other lifters, ran back into the gym and started collecting their bets on the outcome of the brawl. We shut the gym doors and watched. Most of the bets were against Marvin...and I must say, Nobby and I thought we would be out of pocket a pretty penny, as Marvin was swarmed by the little bastards. One of them bit him in the crotch and he went down, then they all put the boots to him. "Ye Gods, we'd better get out there to help!" someone cried, and I smacked them in the face screaming "SILENCE!!".
Just when it seemed Marvin was beaten to death, he somehow, from the depths of his Quasimodo, mongoloid, superhuman strength, rose to his feet, roaring, and started picking up midgets and tossing them 50 feet through the air. They landed with a sick thud on the parking lot, and lay there, every bone broken. We cheered him on as he stomped them all down! He was the decisive winner when the police department arrived, and shot him with an elephant tranquilizer. Apparently they were prepared for Marvin from the emergency call a passerby made to them of a superhuman retarded man beating up midgets, and had come equipped with veterinary grade tranquilizer dart guns, the kind they use on elephants! Marvin staggered around the parking lot, swinging his fists, until a few more darts brought him down. He was taken away by one of the ambulances that arrived on the scene!
-
TRUE STORY- A Trip to the Supermarket (post #1)
Brothers,
I cannot believe the incredibly poor quality of service afforded to we Iron Warriors. I, for one, am sick of it. Case in point- yesterday's trip to the supermarket.
I awoke, as usual, eager to get in at least 10 000 calories in my morning meal. My muscles, aching from yesterday's mind-blowing HIT calf, fingers and neck workout, were crying out for nutrients.
The chef, a Korean named Kwak, prepared a dozen eggs, a plate of sausages, 50 strips of bacon, a mountain of toast, and a double-serving of MegaMass 4000. I requested seconds, and he sheepishly whined "Boss, we pinished awl de pood. No moar weft." I sat, like stone, then slowly got up. In a flash, I leapt on Kwak and began strangling his 120 pound skinny Korean arse, screaming "You fucking MORON! You're FIRED!!". Tossing Kwak down the steps, I searched for my trusted chauffeur and training partner, Nobby. I found him in the maid's room. "Nobby, we need to get to a supermarket. Now". Nobby put down the copy of "Just turned 18" porn mag he was reading, pulled up his pants, stuffed a pair of the maid's panties into his pocket, and grunted in acknowledgment. In no time, we were roaring towards the town grocery store. As the stereo blared the Kiss song "Rock and Roll all Nite" so loud it was heard for a mile around, I mentally prepared my shopping list.
Pulling into the parking lot, Nobby found a great spot within 20 yards of the front door of the supermarket. As we got out of the Rolls, another car pulled up behind us and an incredibly fat, disgusting slob of a woman managed to squeeze herself out and, huffing and puffing, began berating poor Nobby and I.
"That's a handicapped spot. SORRY, but I don't see a bloody sticker on YOUR car. See mine?" she hissed. We noted, on the window of the piece of shit car she was driving, whose seats were covered in candy bar wrappers, a 'handicapped sticker'.
I turned to Nobby. "Wherever is our sticker, Nobby?" I innocently enquired. Nobby lumbered over to the behemoth of a woman's car, took out his chain, smashed the windshield to bits, took the bit of glass with the handicapped sticker on it and planted it on our window. "Roight fookin there it is!" Nobby pointed out. The whale began screaming obsceneties at us, and Nobby's chain came crashing down over her head. Her fat form did a faceplant on the parking lot, and no doubt her blubber continued jiggling for several minutes afterwards.
The horrible woman neutralized, we proceeded to enter the supermarket. An elderly fellow, wearing a supermarket uniform, addressed us as we walked past.
"Why, Hello gentlemen, welcome to Cobson's Grocery" he croaked. I stopped in my tracks. My eyes narrowed, and I turned to him. "Are you talking to me?" I asked, with a glare that let him know the end was near. He looked very afraid. "I said are YOU talking to ME?" I snapped, "Because I bloody fucking well don't see anyone else around!". My blood boiling at his unwanted homosexual advances, I began screaming "SO YOU ARE TALKING TO ME! DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING PROBLEM, YOU OLD SOD?" With the force of the meterorite that extinguished the dinosaurs, my fist came crashing into his face in an uppercut that sent him flying 10 feet through the air, and he hit the ground with a dull sick thud and lay motionless. "Nobby, I can't tolerate these openly gay men coming on to me!" I cried. Nobby grunted in obvious agreement.
Already in a foul mood, we threw open the front doors of the supermarket, shattering their glass panes to bits. "TAKING BLOODY FUCKING CHARGE, PEOPLE!" I roared as I headed down the aisle, fists raised high. We headed down an aisle looking for the meat section, when we saw two men, holding hands, walking ahead of us. Nobby spread out his thick, massive arms and, screaming "FOOKIN POOFTAHHHS!!!" ran and closelined them both from behind, sending them sprawling on the floor. Nobby then executed a devasting elbow drop to each of the sodomites, and we resumed our shopping, the moral cleansing over.
The next aisle we ventured down held a stunning sight- the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, on a ladder, dusting the top shelf. The raven-haired beauty took my breath away. I shyly approached her, and, in a gentle manner, broke the ice. "My lady, you simply do have the most finely cleft arse in England!" I cried, and perhaps it was the 2grams of test, or that wonderful tear-drop-shaped-slightly- plump arse of hers, but I couldn't help myself- seizing her buttocks, I nuzzled my face into her arse, sighing in contentment. She let out a squeal, and while trying to wiggle away fell off of the ladder and hit the floor, knocking herself out cold. I looked about. No one else around. Putting my hands in my pockets and looking as innocent as possible, I sauntered away, whistling a piece by Beethoven.
On the way to the meat counter, Nobby and I filled up two shopping carts with a total of 30 whole chickens, then headed for the beef counter. A young wimp, with a name-tag reading 'dumbell 150' was working the meat counter. "A side of beef" I snarled. He took out a steak and asked 'This wot you lookin fer, mate?" . "Let me see that, would you please?" I asked. He handed it to me and I threw it hard into his face, thundering "A FUCKING SIDE OF BEEF, YOU BASTARD!" Whimpering in fear, he whined "It's in the back but you can't go there, only employees, you must..." his high voice was cut off as Nobby tossed him aside and lumbered into the backroom. Finding the meat cooler, Nobby seized a 300 pound side of beef, threw it over his shoulder, and lumbered out. The sound of police sirens drew my concern- Nobby was, after all, on parole, and false accusations of assault made against him could prove troublesome. "The back door, Nobby!" I suggested and, pushing two shopping carts full of chickens, led the way out the back door. As 3 police cars, lights flashing, sat in front of the store, and the officers entered the supermarket, Nobby and I casually walked to the Rolls, loaded it up with our food, and sped away.
"Those bastards haven't seen the last of us!" I roared.
The side of beef and 30 chickens should last about two weeks.
Any of you brothers get the same attitude at the supermarket?
-
Brothers,
I didn't want to ruin anyone's festive season, so I held back from posting the following tale of some horrible injustices visited on a couple of dear colleagues and fellow Iron Warrior Brothers of mine.
Nobby was sentenced to community service, stemming from a violent altercation at the gym.
His 'community service' was none other than a stint as Santa Claus at a local shopping mall. I went along to lend him moral support, and the following events transpired.
Nobby and I arrived at the mall, both a tad intoxicated, and the shopping mall manager suited Nobby out. Nobby's massive, tree trunk thighs and telephone pole arms barely fit into the spacious outfit, and he refused to wear the false 'protruding stomach'. "Indeed, Santa will no longer be portrayed as a fattie, but as he should look to inspire children- massive!" I declared, and smacked the manager in the face with the phony plastic stomach. Nobby lumbered out to Santa's chair, and I stood within earshot, and in between sips from my flask of whiskey I listened in on Nobby's touchingly warm, and gentle, manner with children. A lad of about 7 climbed up on 'Santa's' lap, and Nobby snarled "Wot the fook yew wontin this year, pal?".
"Well, Santa, me friends beat up on me, and I could use something to defend myself with...maybe a book on karate.." the young boy whimpered. Nobby reached into his pocket, and produced his bike chain. "'Ere, son. Give em a few fookin belts across the face with this. URT THE BAHSTAHDS!" Nobby said in a warm, fatherly tone. The young lad, filled with joy, seized the bike chain, jumped off of Santa's lap, and ran up to another youngster and began beating him down with the chain, screaming "Who's bullyin who now, fuckin arsehole!". I grew misty eyed, as the joy of Christmas was so touchingly spread by Nobby's special way with children.
The next youngster was a little girl of perhaps 4. She looked terrified, and Nobby hit a double-biceps pose in her face, the seams of the sleeves bursting open under the pressure from his cannonball biceps. "Mama, Santa's a monster!" the little angel screamed, and ran off crying. Santa's merry 'Ho Ho Ho' echoed through the mall, and I joined him in thunderous laughter. The girl's mother looked most displeased.
The next lad, about 6, hopped up on Santa's lap. "Santa, I want
a toy gun...but my parents are making me want a ballet outfit" he snivelled. "Wot the fook?!" Santa gasped. "A fookin real gun is what you need, laddie" . "NO HE WANTS A BALLET OUTFIT!" a bitchy voice screeched. Two 'wimmin', obviously 'partners', angrily approached Santa. "He is our son...yes, WE adopted him...and we won't have him becoming a violent male pig...he WILL enroll in ballet" the manly-looking lesbian snarled. Nobby calmly put the boy aside, then exploded in rage. With a mighty roar of "FOOKIN POOFTTAAHHS!!!" he sprang from his chair and, both arms outstretched, dealt a devastating double-clothesline to the two abberations of nature, sending their fat, pants-and-sweatshirt forms flying through the air and into the shopping mall fountain.
I turned to Marvin, our down-syndrome afflicted, 2 inch thick glasses wearing, fellow Iron Warrior. Pointing at the calamity ensuing between Nobby, the lesbians, and the little girl's mother, I pointed out "Will you look at the way those horrible people are treating Nobby? MARVIN, ARE YOU JUST GOING TO BLOODY WELL STAND THERE AND LET SANTA BE ABUSED?!" I screamed in his ear. Marvin began trembling in rage, then charged forth in one of his celebrated, Japanese 'banzai' charges and, seizing a plastic Christmas tree, began attacking the growing crowd of angry parents that surrounded Nobby. He charged into them, bashing heads with the tree until it broke apart, then began clotheslining, kicking, and biting his way through the crowd. Nobby and I headed off, as a crowd of security guards arrived on the scene, and after emptying a few cans of mace into Marvin's face, pummelled him into a pulp with their clubs.
Nobby and I ducked into the liquor store, and on leaving Nobby seized one of our whiskey bottles and hurled it towards the crowd of security guards, screaming "FOOKIN BASTAHHHDS!!". The bottle sailed through the air, and as Marvin was hoisted to his feat, hit him smack on the head, shattered into a million pieces and further injuring the embattled Marvin. We made it out of the mall as the crowd fled, screaming, and roared off in the Rolls, like a bat out of Hell!
Nobby has since been fired by the mall management.
What on earth ever happened to the Spirit of Christmas? Where has it gone, for the love of GOD!?
-
Brothers,
I have read that 'roid rage' is nonsense. Well, let me say, after Sunday's events, I KNOW roid rage is real, and it frightens me!
I have been on a bulking cycle of 2 grams of test a week and 200 mg anadrol a day for some months now, and I can tell you I definitely must be experiencing roid rage. Here is how it all happened-
Sunday began as always. I awoke in the morning, ate stacks of pancakes, several packs of sausages, 2 dozen eggs, and a 5-scoop shake of Joe Weider's 'Mega Mass 4000', then donned one of my 1500 dollar Italian suits, and headed off for Sunday mass. My driver, Nobby, whisked me to the 500 year old Cathedral I attend every Sunday, and we both walked in and sat down most humbly and reverently.
As the mass commenced, I heard a voice behind me whispering, and some giggling, and simply EXPLODED in rage. I spun around, and screamed "SILENCE! This is a HOUSE OF GOD, you tramp!!" in the face of the teenage girl who was the cause of this disturbance. The congregation fell silent, even the priest stopped saying mass for a moment. The man in front of me turned around and gave me a most insulting look, as if I had somehow done something wrong here!
I sat shaking in rage at this pencil neck, and when that part of the mass came in which members turn to others and shake their hands, saying 'Peace of Christ', this man turned to me.
"Peace be with you" he muttered, and held out his hand.
I grasped his hand, began crushing it in a vice-like grip, and screaming!!
It took 20 parishioners, including Nobby, to pull me off of him- I voluntarily released my grip, and he fell to the floor, his hand a lump of crushed bone!
Later, outside, as the ambulance took the fellow away, a hostile crowd of parishioners approached me. One of them, a woman who looked about 100 years old, 5 feet tall, and not a pound over 95, came at me brandishing an umbrella- she meant to strike me! Nobby saw this danger, and came rushing forward, clothes-lining the old witch with one of his stubby, massive arms- she was knocked backward so hard that she did a perfect back-flip, arse-over-tit, and fell to the cement like a rag doll. Then the priest approached us, and I punched him right in the face with the force of a wrecking ball, sending him sprawling to the ground, knocked out cold. Nobby took out his bike chain and, swinging it over his head, sent the rest of the hostile crowd running in terror.
Nobby and I got into the Rolls Royce and left the scene, as the blaring of police sirens grew near.
Those bastards! They were lucky I hadn't stuck about to press assault charges!
Brothers- what do you think- am I indeed suffering from 'roid rage'?
-
Wes-son, I dunno why you have these stories ready to be posted but some are quite funny :D
-
Wes-son, I dunno why you have these stories ready to be posted but some are quite funny :D
They`re from Victorian Guy........he used to post this stuff all over the net.
Classic shit!! ;D
-
::)
Wow lifting 120 pounds and about 2 pounds of that was stress on the bicep
-
I've never seen anyone curl 80 pound dumbbells with strict form. I'm talking Vince Gironda form.
-
Watch out for a sucker punch from a twink you never know.
-
I have a video of me curling 80 lbs with some shitty form, I'll try to upload it soon!
-
I once told Roelly Winklaar he looked like a bulldog chewing on a wasp.
He growled and threw a wild right hook in my direction
I ducked and it connected on Bob Paris' Jaw, knocking the gay right outta him.
Classic get big Zinger!
to continue on your thought...then Paris slips and falls , doing a face plant into some big dudes ass crack, thus tossing the gay right back in him.
-
LOL
I'm seriously not that way usually as I have not too much to show off these days...
You never have had that adrenaline peak when you end a good set? Yelling came kind of automatically - I didn't plan it!
Don't really see the problem here. You had a kickass set and gave out a yell right? Who hasn't been working out with their buddies and do a little shittalking? The dude thinking you were challenging him is the tool, it's not like you were directing it at him. Remember most of the guys posting here curl 80lbs max so they're hating.
-
Don't really see the problem here. You had a kickass set and gave out a yell right? Who hasn't been working out with their buddies and do a little shittalking? The dude thinking you were challenging him is the tool, it's not like you were directing it at him. Remember most of the guys posting here curl 80lbs max so they're hating.
I often celebrate a good lift by farting in the face of the first female laying on bench I see in the gym
-
Brothers,
What does all that say?
-
Classic get big Zinger!
to continue on your thought...then Paris slips and falls , doing a face plant into some big dudes ass crack, thus tossing the gay right back in him.
Epic trying to ride the coat tails of a good "Zinger"
-
Wait... wut.. ???
Are you the fattie?
Of course I noticed him and even his stupid t-shirt with supplement store logo on it as he suddenly started to run his mouth to me. I was not saying anything to him. I was not paying any attention to him.
It's little hard not to notice sum fattie trying to look like pro if he tries to start a fight with you..eh..?
You come off looking like fool. What I gather is that there is some extreme sexual between you and your chubby paramour. Fuck and get it over with.
-
I often celebrate a good lift by farting in the face of the first female laying on bench I see in the gym
That really made me LOL!
-
I've seen my share of fights at the gym. The last one got a "class action" lawsuit going.
Needless to say, many people that were involved are financially devastated at this time. Finding new jobs anytime soon will be nothing short of multiple efforts in futility.