So my buddy Paul & I were pounding iron at Crunch the other day. We were hitting it…hard. I turned to him and said, “You’re looking premo, BRO! You’re in the 1% of the stud class.” He flashed those baby blues and said, “I know. Oh, and did you get that fundraising E-mail I sent. I’m running for Vice President you know.” I had to admit I was busy and usually only pick up a newspaper to read the sports. I mean, politicians in both parties are just taking money from my pocket. Am I right, people? So then we rolled over to the flex machine and he was going on & on about his Super PAC. I thought he was talking about his abs, but apparently it’s something else. He grabbed a free weight & took off his hoodie. POW! He. Was. FIT! “Dude!” I yelled. “How did you, like, Popeye those biceps?” He mentioned something about P90X & I was all like, “Whoa! Don’t tell me any CIA spy codes! That’s classified.” Again, I mistook what he was saying. Then he starting talking about deficits. So I said, “My stomach has a taco deficit. Let’s bust outta here.” He said he couldn’t because he had to go debate some old man named Joe on TV. “Whatever!” I said. Haven’t seen him at the gym since. He still hasn’t returned my Rage Against The Machine CD.