It’s Summer! And This Is Where He Does the Least Damage!

1. These greens are so fast I have to hold my putter over the ball and hit it with the shadow.
~ Sam Snead

Muscularingly Monday Moppetry

Before you ask: yes, that’s a word. I just made it up. It’s an adverb, obviously, meaning “to do so in a muscularing fashion”. Also before you ask: no, that’s not a word, it’s just English-sounding gibberish.

It’s Monday again, and time for a fresh start to life. Time to be your best self and set the right tone for the week. Life’s gonna try to whoop your ass twelve ways to Sunday by, well, next Sunday. Don’t let it. Beat life like a red-headed, rented stepmule.

Now, indulge me while I look at some pretty things.

I like her expression: “Leon, spot me while I do this ridiculous exercise”. You got it, babe.

Monday Muscular Motivationz

Greetings and salutations to any and all who read this. Unless you voted for 0bama, in which case I hope your day is filled with life-altering tragedy. No, really. I hope your doc tells you that you have ass cancer. And I hope he uses those exact words. Not “colon cancer”, not even “anal cancer”. “Ass cancer”. You deserve it, you rectal wart of a foul poopstain on the dirty old brown shoe of a dishonest day laborer.

Now, to the rest of you fine folk that either voted for R&R (thanks for the effort) or stayed home (eh, I get it, but duuuuuuuude), welcome to MMM #70. With any luck, we’ll make it to 700. Actually, if I’m still doing this in… 13 years, I’ll quit. For now, though, MMM is on!

Good morning.

HHD

Good morning, and welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day.  Think of this as twofer Tuesday, except it’s Wednesday.

First, congratulations to Adam Scott for winning the Masters.

Nice!

Muscular Monday Motivational

Greetings to all, unless you voted for Obama, in which case I’d prefer you self-immolate (right after you pay your taxes, assholes).

It’s Monday again, and that means it’s time to go back to work (congrats again, Vmax). Here’s a little something to get you going.
Failing that, it’ll at least get me going. Close enough.

She looks tired.

Muscley Monday Mopseys

Good morning all, and welcome to Monday morning at the H2. It’s 2013, so it’s still awful and probably will be for a few more years. There are signs of hope here and there, and we may yet weather the storm, but it’s not a sure thing. Monday, though? Pretty much a sure thing. Monday will always be here. Let’s kick off the week right.

Time to dip our asses in the ice-cold horse trough of the workweek.

Muscular Monday Motivation

Greetings, fellow survivors of the weekend. Monday is once more upon us, and I know y’all are just bursting with joy at the thought of it.

Brevity this week. Have some photos.

Tools. She has them.

HHD

Good morning, and welcome to Roamy’s 200th poat, which just happens to be another Hunky Hump Day.

March 20 is the equinox, meaning equal day and night. I went to a Druid wedding on this date. An outdoor wedding. In March. In northern New Jersey. It had snowed, and the bride wore galoshes. But enough about that.

Double up on the coffee and dance to this:

Now let’s see who’s in the HHD folder for today.
Spring break time!

Motivational Monday Muscle

Greetings boys, girls, and tweeners. Welcome to the 63rd consecutive edition of MMM. I’ve got no real take on current events because I’m barely paying attention anymore. Paying attention wasn’t helping, so my hypervigilance has turned to a sort of apathy. That might change, but I’m sort of enjoying the peace and quiet. I do my language training, cook my meals, work, read, lift, sleep, and spend time with my wife. That’s enough for me right now. I can’t stay pegged at 11 all the time, I’m too tired. Stress, man. Too much is too much.

Now, here’s a classy B&W. I’m sure it was either filthy or cheesy when it had color.

HHD

Good morning, and welcome to another edition of Hunky Hump Day. My apologies, but there’s 2% less men due to sequestration. We all have to make sacrifices – Bo the dog gets 2% less MilkBones, and M’chelle has to get the $686 designer sneakers instead of the $700 ones. Anyway, this poat is here to make the wimmen forget their troubles for a while and to make the men suck in that gut when a camera is pointed their way.

This song suits my mood.

Now for the hunks.