As a group, we collectively paused Fight Club, put down the weights, threw on our best muscle shirts, spiked up our hair, slammed our pre-workout, gave a quick double pits to chesty with our Axe, (because we ran out of Bod Man fragrance spray and you know they only sell that stuff around Christmas) and rolled deep in Finn McCool’s Ale House for some good ol’ quality Bro-ing out.
Trail was hared by our very own Alpha Bro, Beef Jerkless, with the help of Just Imoni and Just Amy. Between the three of them, not one single shirt was worn on trail. If that wasn’t sexy enough, they threw in a few spank checks, cause hey, good game bro! And lets not forget the song checks, because any excuse to fist pump! But r*unning, spanking and dancing is exhausting, and before long, we found ourselves dragging, unable to go on. But wait, what is this? Sweet nectar of the Gods… is that…? RIOT PUNCH!? Who needs a beer check when you have 5 gallons of everclear and energy drinks?! Re-fueled by alcohol, taurine, and trace amounts of animal steroids we proceeded to On-In, where we all realized how drunk we actually were when 7 Gag Reflexes walked into the bar. But being drunk is no excuse to skip the gym bro, so we decided to get some last minute curls in with the side-sides of Cause for Blindness and Broke in the Stink. Drunk, and rocking a fresh pump, we did the only thing left to do – POST CIRCLE DANCE PARTY!
*Resume Watching Fight Club
Some noteworthy accusations:
-Tits of Steel for making the pizza delivery guy do a triple-take at her lacy panties during the underwear song.
-MacGyver Muffdiver for showing up to circle dressed as Pharmabro/A used car salesman/An owner of a lounge in the outskirts of Las Vegas.
-Just Emo Kid for saying the beeps at crosswalks are for deaf people.
-Pantyphyle for not letting us use his yacht (WE KNOW YOU HAVE ONE!)
Post-Traumatic Goose Disorder