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POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: STRANGER IN PARADISE

It's 6am and I have a headache again. Everyday this happens and it feels more like a tequila sunrise, you drank way too much and you wake up in a third floor apartment with no A/C as the 90 degree heat singes the peaks of your bed head. It's hard to relax at all knowing that this welcomes me every morning and that's it all part of this new chapter in life that I just can't seem to comprehend nor appreciate for multiple reasons. I haven't written very much lately as I require a certain setting, like any writer or blogger, that allows my mind to enter a creative state of mind. It used to be like clockwork. Music, green tea, sofa, laptop and a sense of security. Now it all feels like I flipped the omelet poorly and now I have to settle for scrambled eggs. (Brebri84 in IG)

...That's not how I work. I don't want to settle for fucking scrambled anything!

I'd rather throw the whole thing away and start from scratch then digest mediocrity.

Looking out my window seeing a beautiful afternoon as people walk their dogs, rake their lawns, watch kids play and head to cookouts or birthday parties, I stand there with my black coffee pondering the probability of what event is going to crash the moon onto my daily plans. In the most peaceful moments, I'm not. I'm always mentally somewhere else. You could be standing right in front of me and my mind is across town where it shouldn't be, running ridiculous scenarios through my brain in high definition. It reminds me of Bruce Wayne as he scours over Gotham. Unlike me, the man has everything a material person could ask for, yet he chases crime, self-worth and love, none of which he never truly grasps. Now I'm not saying you'll find me running across the city like a crazed caped hero, least not anytime soon. But as a masked hero, he never really went “home” and as I gaze at a beautiful skyline with hues of blue and orange...I haven't come home either, not for a long time. The ghosts of my past won't let me. Last time I checked, you can't punch ghosts.

I read these motivational posts on instagram that people throw under their pictures and to me it's just reconstituted vomit that's been copied, re-branded and puked out under the guise that it's actually going to help in someway. I'll stick to looking at pictures of food, thanks. I give these people credit, don't get me wrong, they worked hard for whatever they've achieved and that's cool, but to be honest, I really just don't...fucking...CARE. No real relation at all to this topic, not that this article has no relation to anything, but I've aching to say this for a while. Your not philosophers, your brand reps. Shut up...please...trying to be polite.

There's no doubt that I've worked very hard and deserve to have peace in my life as should anyone who's done things the right way or at least tried to, and that my joy in having peace of mind could be passed on to others as it once was, but I now find myself in a Cold War with society and it's corporate policy of constant feet dragging. I can't be at the gym without a hat hat covering my eyes, nor can I be there for more than an hour, before I start chewing on the cables that block me from the exit as I hit triple digits on the ride back to my place. The gym isn't my home, my home isn't even my home. I kinda feel like I'm running on lily pads and that I can't stay in one spot for too long or else I'll fall in.

I look at it as an emotional hibernation, I know the feelings are there, but I can't do anything about it nor can I afford to. I've been told that at my speed, I'm going to burn out hard. That's fine, it's like comparing the moon to a comet, the moon is always there, its a constant, but for the most part it's boring, it goes mostly unnoticed, but a comet...that baby lights the sky up for a short period of time and millions of people enjoy the view, until it disappears from sight or burns up in the atmosphere and that's it, the comet is no more...but it was a wild ride while it lasted.

I know this article has turned into a hodge-podge of metaphorical ramblings, but it's these rambling incomplete thoughts that remind me that my brain is still sparking and trying to repair itself and allow for more coherent thought to pass through. I had to first purge myself of all my secrets, which didn't go over so well with some people...but hey...fuck 'em. I only see two paths for myself right now, as far as which course I take regarding the person you may meet on the other side remains to be seen. I failed on many projects in my life, Topfeuds, OurCityRadio, but Positive Sarcasm is mine, there are no other cooks in the kitchen, I slowly built every single piece of it, from the articles to the events gallery to the podcast which could revive itself someday and there could be some delicious merchandise and so on in the future. It's unapologetic, to the point, self sufficient and always welcoming of new ideas...kinda like me, at least for the time being. I look forward to being more and doing more in the future, but right now this all feels like one big Alanis Morrisette song.

Just keep plugging away, another article in the books, another thought out of my head, another way to let fresh ideas in.

 

...until then I stand alone on the warm beach watching the sun go down, a man with only his thoughts...just a stranger in paradise.

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: CHICKEN WINGS AT A FUNERAL.

 

Okay, so we've established that at the time of your birth, chances are you were screaming and crying. So is the idea of people crying at the sight of your stiff ass in a wooden box some sort of revenge tactic for the tears you shed at birth? You knew it from your inception, “Great, now I have to please you assholes for the next 70-80 years. You guys are gonna get it when I die!”

At your funeral, the plain parade of black dress pants and that one dickhead who showed up in jeans make their way like a soup kitchen line to your casket, some of them pondering how they're even related to you, but decided to show up anyway because it was your obligation to stop by in order to make Aunt Sophie happy after all the work she put into the food at the wake.

Now I understand that a potluck setup wouldn't exactly be the smartest idea considering that your cousin Sarah is too depressed to whip up her stuffed peppers that you loved so much when your unemployment went dry. Who gives a shit, your dead! Is she going to wrap one up and toss it in your casket for your trip to Hell? You ever been through Custom's there? There's no way your getting a home cooked meal by those Security Guards. They're like the TSA, but intelligent.

Why is there food at a funeral anyway? What bloated relative can possibly be that hungry with a dead body in the other room. Alcohol makes sense, cus why not, right? It's supposed to be a sad day, so let's get bombed and sob at the podium incoherently....but deviled eggs? Okay so your sister's brother-in-law, Frank not only can stretch his lapband to its interstellar limits with the free buffet, but now he's pushed everyone out the door faster as he sulfur bombs the entire funeral parlor with his Nuclear farts. Great family, it's a shame you left them so suddenly.

No wonder this country has an obesity problem, there aren't any occasions left where we aren't leaving without sticky lips and fingers. BYOB...Bring Your Own Buffet.

Ohhhh...I think I just realized halfway through writing this why food is there to begin with. It is to soak up all that booze, so that your ex-girlfriend whose was close with your mother doesn't get blasted on an empty stomach and begins to shoot her mouth off about your sub-par sex life and that you were caught wearing her underwear on accident....three times.

So now that I've officially changed my mind and now support food at funerals, I still think it would be smart to have some rules or least guidelines to what can be served just days after your untimely departure from this world.

First off, no soup. Hands are shaking, tensions are high, people have their heads down and aren't really paying attention to where they are going, so I don't think a scalding hot bowl of minestrone is a wise idea for those teetering on the edge of breaking down. Another smart avoidance would be heavy garlic or onion like assortments, your brother Tommy doesn't need to be burping up a storm during the eulogy that he's gonna suck at anyways, why make it worse for the crowd in attendance? Anything that requires twirling your fork. Your in a black suit or black dress, twirling up a plate of soupy Fettuccine Alfredo is a cliffhanger move every time you bring that utensil near your mouth. Meatballs are a good idea when portioned correctly, if you can grab it whole with just your front teeth via toothpick, your golden, but if you can split finger it like a 2-2 fastball to Jeter, then you best dial it down to a size that isn't going to clear any dugouts. Go easy on the sauce too there, Gordon Ramsey.

Finally, if you think rolling into such a somber environment with any foods spicier than Cinemax after 2AM, think again. Breaded Chicken Strips, yes. Level 5 Hot Wings that would melt through the clearcoat on your Chevy Corsica, no bueno caliente. Leave that tongue numbing garbage in your pantry where it belongs.

 

“Our father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

thy will be done,

especially by the chicken wings,

for they were hot as fuck.

...AMEN.

 

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: GOOD VIBRATIONS

Friend’s…relative’s…closeted deviants…lend me your rears!

Here comes a pulsating parade of plastics, rubbers, ball bearings, battery operated love guns and water-based lubricants with more flavors than a dessert menu at the Cheesecake Factory, “Yes, I’ll have the Pearl Necklace, please. Oh, excellent choice (ZIP…)”

You know a sex toy party is in full “swing” when your strolling by unit 208 at Whispering Meadows with this week’s load of laundry and you can’t help but hear a pack of horny giggling ferrets as the host pulls out the infamous big black dildo…we’ll get back to that in a little bit.

These parties are interesting, because an awful lot of research and development, not to mention waterproofing, go into creating these little bundles of bliss. The ladies take this shit seriously. The majority of them have that little drawer or jewelry box that helps them reach orgasmic altitudes higher than any spy plane has ever attempted. Trust me, you won’t find family photos or grandma’s jewelry in there. Sadly, some things won’t fit in there as inconspicuously as a bottle of warming gel or a wizard wand, like a sex swing for example. Let’s be honest though, what two-bedroom apartment complex is going to allow you to screw that horny hammock into your fragile sheet rock ceiling. “Oh, but I found the support beam!” …Yeah, I’ll bet you did, Piglet.

Although, I must admit, that the sensitivity Gels were never something to turn your nose up at. As if you had a choice with how strong the screw goo permeates from its hair putty like container, like shoving your gear inside of a York Peppermint Patty…Only your not singing from the mountain tops, your on a sofa somewhere in the suburbs, sitting next to a bored married couple who can’t decide between the vibrating unity rings or the divorce papers.

…Back to that big black dildo…

This shiny, oddly scented, 12 inches of carpel tunnel for your squishy tunnel is ideal for beating your spouse, but quite embarrassing when your kid or canine brings it to the dinner table during a visit from your parents.

Now as far as the crowd at a toy party, it usually comprises of mostly women, I would strongly encourage men to attend though, but in very small numbers as watching a women interact or ask questions about a particular item is a lot like watching gorillas in the wild, it will take them out of their comfort zone if too many real sausages start walking through the door. Its best left to maybe one of two guys at the very most. The majority of the items are designed for ladies flying solo anyway. Don’t worry, if it requires you, she’ll show you the ropes…or the handcuffs. Dudes are too immature for these parties anyway, probably why women very often seek out these variations of vibrating victory. Regardless, men should go to understand what it takes to truly make a girl curl her toes, but take it a bit serious and for fucks sake, eat light. Don’t think you can sneak in a quick Steak n’ Cheese before diving junk first into this lube fest, because the bathroom will be in constant experimental use and should only smell like synthetic strawberries and peppermint oil, not your culinary afterbirth.

For those who think that these items may contribute to sexual deviancy in a relationship, feel free to kill yourselves. That vibrating Bristle-less toothbrush may be the one thing that keeps her from tumbling onto another guy’s dick. A lot of the items can be used in mid-coital symphony with your “God Given” package, so that when the clock strikes 10:30pm and you’ve given each other the goods, your not on your cell phones 5 minutes later looking for your Christian or Catherine Gray.

Remember, they’re called toys for a reason, so try to have a little fun if you sleep with the door closed.

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: THE TEN ABANDONMENTS

Well to be honest, I wasn’t in the best place to celebrate my 50th article, was too busy chasing trophies, truths and triumphs, so I figure 60 is a solid number to really turn up the heat on of my favorite subjects, deadbeat parents…and there’s one in particular that’s currently in my cross-hairs.

If we’re all God’s children, then I reckon there are roughly 8 billion people on the planet with daddy issues. I’m surprised we’re not all hitting the stripper pole to Def Leppard and crying to a Shrink about our loveless sexual experiences as we desperately seek approval from some insignificant other.

The Almighty is a prick…and he’s lazy. Also his human resources department has a tendency to overlook things. You’d think that his robed flunkies over at the Vatican would have cleaned up that newsworthy mess where the priests were treating alter boys like a fridge full of Popsicles during a heat wave in July. Oh, that’s still going on? I didn’t know the almighty and often flighty had a hard-on for hiring felons, maybe consider hiring someone who maybe stole a car or ripped off a bank and not some kids pants.

Someone should impeach his Holy Spirit’s ass for this line of bullshit about the Jewish people being chosen ones. Chosen for constant invasion and persecution since the age of man, chosen to have their cities bombed since Israel was declared a state, chosen to have their Olympic Team held hostage and massacred during the 1972 Munich Games, chosen to be filed into camps where they were shot, burned and gassed at a rate of up to 15,000 per day during World War II. Did you choose them for enlightenment or extinction? Get back to me on that…

Nice work with Jesus, by the way. You couldn’t have just put him up for adoption to a more caring family or maybe busted your holy nut on your girl’s belly button. “I turned around for two seconds to wash some chalices and next thing I knew, some assholes nailed him to a cross!”

Maybe if you laid off the wine a bit, you may have seen the angry mob grabbing a hammer and some nails, not to mention your son. What a waste of good lumber.

I know you see everything, your Holiness, but maybe you misplaced your glasses on that day, as well as the day Muhammad Atta and his band of Merry Martyrs poked two holes in the side of the World Trades Center. Did you misplace your bifocals that day, Grandpa? Cus you clearly didn’t see those poor souls leaping 70 stories just to avoid the flames only to wonder what could’ve happened if God wasn’t too busy rubbing one out in the bathroom to maybe catch one or two of those people. Maybe you were too busy prepping all those virgins for your new heavenly terrorist guests and since the business of terrorism is at an all time high, I guess you just have to keep up with the demand, snatching up the innocent whenever you can, whether it be a drunk driving accident involving a mother and her two children or a school shooting over in Connecticut…that’s why the good die so young.

Oh the lord works in mysterious ways. It’s his will, of course that allows Westboro Baptists to picket the funerals of soldiers and homosexuals. I guess Mr. Creation finds this rather comedic like he’s playing Sim City and every once in a while he decides to throw in couple mudslides over in parts of Indonesia or maybe a epidemic in Africa killing thousands everyday. Gotta keep the balance, don’t ya, big guy?

I think your children have run amok and your not sure how to handle all the movement of being a parent to “Kate plus 8 Billion”, so you kinda treat us like your little pinball machine that you guiltlessly tilt just to get the ball back.

…Or maybe you just left…you quit. After botching Jesus, you ditched your bitch and took off for the gated coastline of Heaven; which since your departure, left the rest of your holy city looking more like the suburbs of Detroit rather than a Utopia for do-gooders.

Yet, billions of people after everything that has happened; still believe in your lazy ass or some form of it, myself not included. You’ve abandoned your principles that were left to Moses. Maybe this is your chance to step up, take responsibility and try to better the situation with your kids. Rest assured if you don’t, after Richard Branson finishes production of the Zion Plane, I’ll have a first class ticket and will be first in line with a new pair of Air Jordan’s… that I’ll happily dirty when I shove my foot up your ass.

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: THEORY OF RELATIVE STUPIDITY

       In order to be considered stupid, one has to have made at least one smart decision in the course of their current life. How else would you be able to gauge whether or not the person is an absolute moron and needs to be taken out back and shot? What if a newborn immediately after entering the world took the umbilical cord and choked out the Doctor? Maybe he or she was a lazy doctor, maybe the mom pushed way too hard and the newborn flew out and wrapped around the doctors neck…your imagining it right now…mom drops the hammer on her 357 Vag-num and out comes bullet baby, flying past the Doctors head, then the cord runs out and Bat Baby comes flying back from the tension and that’s something life insurance probably doesn’t cover: Flying Bat Baby Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Syndrome. Who’s to blame for this freak accident? When in doubt, you can always blame the daddy, but he left to grab a carton of cigarettes just over nine months ago…maybe he was the smart one. 

Is this the stupidest opening to an article that you’ve ever read? Well when is the last time you even read an article at all? Are you too busy burping your freshly shaved boinky-bits to 15-second instagram videos and inspirational one-liners ripped off from a Stallone flick? What, you can’t sit through ninety minutes of Rocky? Plot too complicated for ya? It’s not hard to follow people, someone hits him, he hits them back…Oscar Winner! 

In the past, I’ve written about Director Michael Bay (Transformers, The Rock, Pain n’ Gain) fun movies, not a lot of intelligence required. Many think he’s a horrible director, an egomaniac and terrible with the cast. Digest this: He’s worked with many of the most iconic actors and producers over the last 30 years, grossed over $3 Billion in the worldwide box office, and the moment he releases a relevant movie about the Benghazi Embassy bombing, Hillary Clintons poll numbers in New Hampshire drop over 20 points.

Conclusion…Michael Bay is a rich, genius. 

Every year around Thanksgiving, I buy anywhere from 5 to 10 turkeys, cus my diet requires a solid amount of quality protein and the prices are so low, that you just can’t say no…or so I thought. It’s late January and there are over 30 fucking turkeys per supermarket still frozen and for sale. How is this possible? How is this legal? We hand out food stamps like lollipops at a bank teller window and we’re not pushing some of the cleanest food on the market to these people? They’re so easy to make, what we can’t hand out instructions to these unfortunate folks so that they can properly feed their families? You prefer to stuff government cheese, ramen noodles or Easy Mac down their throats? My Paycheck gets Cosbyed every two weeks because of this atrocity and now I gotta pay for their health insurance too or I pay a fine? Maybe next November, I’ll buy all the leftover turkeys and drive down the block, throwing them through peoples windows. #TurkeyBomb2016 

This whole article is completely out of control, but y’know what? I’m on a roll.

Oh, ANOTHER THING!!!!

Stop telling me Starbucks cost way more than Dunkin Donuts. They cost exactly the same you local minded, hair-lipped snaggle-tooth. The beans also taste like they weren’t filtered thru a urinal at Fenway PAAAAAHHHHHHK.

I like to actually taste my coffee instead of dumping all kinds of chemical sugars into it, making my stomach turn into a partially inflated bouncy house. Jump on that and lemme know how it feels…actually here’s my middle finger, jump on that and spin, cus you uneducated mush-brains need to get in line at the DMV…for your new shiny helmet. 

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT

Lets set the scene. The only thing preventing me from getting hypothermia at this very moment is a pane of glass and a spontaneous urge to run bare assed into the Atlantic, from where I sit it looks like the end of the world out there, but I figured this is the perfect place to start… 

People spend their whole lives pushing the right causes, fighting greedy establishments tooth n’ nail, standing up for what they believe in. For the most part, they are good people, but along the way, something happens that makes them turn their backs on friends, family and society. Something that questions every value that was drilled into them since birth. Lemme jump to an example: you can only kick a dog so many times before it starts to bare it’s teeth to even the tiniest ray of sunshine, gesture of a hand, or even a harmless infant, you can only keep a person down for so long as well, because eventually,  they stop asking for something and start taking whenever they please. Sometimes what they want is right...other times it's not. Right now as the ocean waves bring in good ideas and remove the bad ones, I wonder how I can easily explain to you the purpose of being a good Samaritan and setting an example of how to do the right things, but at times the fingers on the keyboard seem forced and the thoughts blurred.  

Angels alone can’t fight the good fight. You need assholes. You need Hypocrites. You need the forsaken. Some of the prettiest, most loyal dogs are mix breeds that’ve come from broken homes or were simply abandoned. Some of the prettiest, most loyal humans you will ever meet descend from a similar format. They hold more value in a fight because they can see what’s coming whereas you may not. They can also understand why there is a fight to begin with and don't kid yourself, there is. From the very moment you were rifled out of your mother’s jungle gym, you were confused, angry, scared, crying and covered in blood…like being dragged to the mall on a Saturday morning when all you wanted to do was watch cartoons (minus the blood). Sounds like a fight to me and from that very moment you were taught to stand up like a soldier, understand the difference between good and bad, and pushed into training at the age of 4 or 5. Now whether at that age you were handed a pencil or an AK-47 depends on the country you live in, to me it makes little difference, both require aim, focus, they both leave a mark and will take an eye out. As you get older, you learn shortcuts, quicker or safer ways to get home. You cheat on a test, blow past the speed limit, or lie to a friend. This doesn’t make you an evil person, a delinquent or a hypocrite…it makes you human. I know many people who have made terrible choices in their lives, some minor, some reprehensible. The reason they are still my friends is because they were honest and owned up to all of it without displacing the blame. They’ve “done their time”, they paid their dues, they now deserve the chance to have the life they’ve worked so hard for…doesn’t mean they’ll get it though.

Life isn’t a job; you were drafted. You have to live it, because even if you don’t make it in the end, you may have given others the opportunity to get that little island of happiness. It’s your responsibility to know your place at times and do what is asked of you even if you may not always agree with it, because if you don’t help dig that trench, life is going to shoot the shit out of you and possibly others around you. Get shoveling, bitches. 

I’m no angel in this fight and I’m not supposed to be. That duty wasn’t branded on my ass at birth. I knew fighting life’s evils would require guerrilla tactics; shortcuts, collateral damage and sometimes leaning on others to finish the job. In the end though, I was never bound to become an evil person. As always, I wake up in the morning and start moving, if not for myself then for others. I hold people accountable past, present and moving forward. I treat friends and family like a triage unit at times because after the last couple years of breaking my body and mind down to it’s rawest form, I need to “pack light” in order to soldier forward and seek out what is right in the world.

Eventually, you’ll get tired of being angry or hating some people, places or things and you’ll start forgetting what the hell made you so mad to begin with. Does this mean you forgive and forget those who have done things so very evil in your own life…fuck no. Fuck those people. But you have a job to do and a war to fight and you can’t be dragging all that around with you at all times. It gets heavy. Keep the little things, the tiny trinkets for when you feel like snarling your nose and getting that blood pumping. Being angry is more useful than being depressed. But let me close with this thought. As you continue forward in life, remember that all those that have unapologetically hurt you in your life will get old; begin to lose value in the world market and struggle to move as they once did in their youth. One day, they will die…and the waves will wash away their existence and in time no one will remember them. This alone, should comfort you. 

However, if they deceptively took something valuable of yours, it’s your duty to take it back, because you’re the Asshole…and you don’t take shit from anyone.

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: THE HIROSHIMA EFFECT

 

Is this stuff still taught to kids in school now? Or are the mushroom clouds these twinks aware of the ones they blast out to impress their friends at the local hookah lounge. Lets focus on the topic at hand.

Take the time to understand the multiple reasons for what happened on August 6th, 1945. For one, the Japanese refused to listen to any negotiations brought to their attention and would rather have sacrificed every man, woman and child then suffer the humiliation of surrender. The Japanese military scared its own citizens into believing that if the Americans reached the mainlands, it would consist of nothing but raping and pillaging. This was evident in some of the island battles as locals would hear of the American victory, find the nearest cliff and leap to their deaths, sometimes clutching their own children.

Another reason for unleashing such a devastating power on a mixed population of military and civilian, was because of a growing threat in the Soviet Union. Since it was still unknown at the time of just how unforgiving atomic warfare was and what the Russians would do with the technology at that time, instead of sending over 500’000 American troops to their deaths in order to conquer mainland Japan, Why not save American lives, force Japan to surrender in order to save their population from certain invasion and scare the puffy ones in Moscow all in one move. There are many reasons we can conjure up as to why the decision was made to turn this beautiful city into scorched ruins…although the reasons we can’t think of are what makes this such an interesting premise.

Now, how you incorporate this philosophy into your own life, heaven forbid you’d actually need to. As I said earlier, there are many reasons we can’t think of that brought this decision about, so let’s explore the ones that we can. Normally an action such as this could have lasting consequences in your life or multiple others and the immediate results will never be overwhelmingly positive…nor may the long-term results. Look at it simply as an action that will ripple throughout time, forever altering peoples opinions and feelings toward you, those feelings being mostly negative in the beginning, but in time hopefully changing to a more appreciative and respectful manner, as maybe you were thought of as too weak or too nice, too non-committal, too flaky, too cold or too naive. So, unannounced, you commit a cataclysmic action that shakes the very fundamentals that even you may stand on. The action is so simple, but like the radiation in Hiroshima after the detonation or the worldwide reaction to the information coming out of Japan after the events can change the entire playing field in the world as you know it.

No, these actions do not include murder, arson or anything that will have you facing 25 to life, unless you’re Edward Snowden. The fact is this, despite the massive casualties and devastation across the city, the war in the pacific ended, the soldiers came home, millions more were saved, Hiroshima was rebuilt and is once again a thriving city, not to mention that the U.S. and Japan are now the deepest of allies and commercial partners. Not even a Pearl Harbor or a Hiroshima could stop a long lasting relationship between the two countries from one end of the Pacific to the other from blossoming. Some people need a pat on the back, others from time to time, need a kick in the ass, and sometimes they need a mind shaking event that wipes the slate clean so that a new foundation can be built in it’s place possibly by the same hands that knocked it all down, for it is only out of love and respect for yourself and others you may care about that such actions need to take place.

In the end, it’s all comes from love and hope. Nothing more.

 

…Let’s save Nagasaki for another day.

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: NO MAN'S LAND

A place of uncertainty and fear. A disputed place where one chooses not to sit for extended periods. In World War One, where trench warfare was common, the warring nations would sit and stare at each other from the odd comfort of these dirt-flavored walkways. At times they could be miles apart, other times it was as close as giving your noisy neighbor the finger from across the street. Turn your stereo down, ass-face, your Ranchero music is giving me audible Chlamydia.

Eventually someone would build up the courage or blood alcohol content to venture across this unsightly and unpredictable landscape to either conquer the opposition or to surrender to them, leaving their fate in the hands of others. Although it is only human nature that if one wishes to wander through No Mans Land, they'd like to bring a few buddies along...preferably heavily armed with tank support. Such is life when you see Mr or Mrs Rebound in some random night club wearing clothes a few sizes too tight and a maybe few years out of style (2000 n' Late) dancing like a drunken bobble-head doll and surrounded by “friends” yelling loudly eat at each other to no avail over poorly remixed house music, eventually stumbling outside to either text the baby-sitter that you'll be a little late, finding your way across town to an opposite sexes musty apartment that wreaks of cold scrambled eggs and wet towels, or you'll find yourself crying and stuffing your chipmunks over by the taco truck, whilst being tagged in a dimly lit photo that you'll see the next day on social media showing your running mascara that at 2am looks more like Celtic war paint as you use the last 2 percent of the battery life on your iPhone 12S-TD to hail an Uber driver. Where'd all your “friends” go? They disappeared over an hour ago after texting their drunken booty-calls and left you wandering down the street past that awful karaoke bar. When it comes to open mic-er's choking out Billy Joel over a beer stained microphone, I treat karaoke like a Nazi treats the Holocaust, I pretend it never happened.

Now your in the middle of crossing the No Mans Land of life and your support staff is dissipating one-by-one, so another commonly practiced tactic is by simply lowering the complication of your hairstyle (chopping it all off as I've heard a few over-wrinkled housewives say) and settling down with the first not yet obese person you meet in which the relationship consists of a monthly semi-hard dicking that lasts exactly 27.35 seconds, like rubbing a cheap hot dog against unpainted drywall. Good luck at your next bake sale...your kids will hate you in time.

Like a Hipster with a Beards only coffee shop, here's another popular tactic trending on the Twitter of life...the fitness craze.

I've been through it and I only look back on it shaking my head, every bodies a coach, competitor, nutritionist, do this, eat that, cycle this, take a selfie and show off your critically acclaimed cooking skills consisting of poorly seasoned ground turkey with overcooked rice and broccoli turning your stomach into a Wynton Marsalis Jazz session, not like I can't locate this ingenious concoction on 42,000 other pages, clearly you thought of it first. Stop telling me “the struggle is real” you unoriginal quote machine. I didn't know you made fitness fortune cookies on the side (actually not a bad idea). My true struggle is how many glasses of cheap red wine I'm going to consume while having a Love/Hate relationship with my Netflix (Where's all the good movies!?). Now your entire wardrobe consists of overproduced Indonesian plastic gym-wear cus you cant afford any other clothes, nor can you fit into your old clothes cus “that was the old you” and now you wanna look active and somewhat shapely to attract someone with similar hash tags on instagram. “Hey, you workout here?! So do I! Let's workout near each other and later on grab a protein shake, confess our love for peanut butter and then if our endorphin's are still flowing, rub our sweaty mushy bits together as we continue to seek revenge on our past lives. In the words of the ever so insightful George Carlin, “Fuck you.”

 

I'd rather not discuss Jesus Freaks or cat lady syndrome today, so lets move ahead...

 

As we try harder everyday to stand out from one another and cross this section of uncertainty, we end up following the patterns of others to the point where we look and act no different as a Honda Accord does from a Toyota Camry. It'll get you from point A to point B safely...from the womb to the casket with 7 airbags and anti-lock brakes. So do we sit in our original trench out of complacency as you live vicariously through the Real Housewives of Saudi Arabia or do you force your way into another trench and take on a “new” lifestyle that has already been adapted, mutated and copyrighted by so many others before you, whilst ditching everything and everyone that was associated with your past life. I don't have an answer for you, I'm just trying to shake off the writing rust and get my thoughts on paper before someone else writes something similar and calls me a thief. As for me, I'm not going back to old trenches, they're all either blown up, too small, or taken over by less than favorable parties. I also will not seek out new trenches, not worth my time and energy to be hopping into these overpopulated dugouts filled other poor decision makers. Nope, instead I'll put my flag right here for now between the trenches in what others see as the most dangerous area of a battlefield, but as I currently see it, it's like standing right in the middle road, when all the traffic has swerved to avoid you and passed into the distance, for those few moments, call me crazy, it's rather peaceful.

 

I have more thoughts on this concept, but I'm totally craving a Latte and a Burger right now....

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: SEX, LIES & SIX-PACK ABS. STORIES FROM THE BACKSTAGE

I have zero obligation to share this information, nor do I plan to exaggerate any material covered in this article. These scenarios that I lay before you are all based on direct confirmed evidence and because of currently ongoing legal processes, names will be not be used at this time, those you can discover on your own.

Since my very first article, my goal was provide helpful information with an upbeat twist. I never expected to learn such sad truths about a sport that kept me hanging at the edge of my sanity for almost a year. With every story I learned, I became more suspicious about the people I shared the stage with and now that I know all this information to be true, I may have been better off staying in the dark. Let me go through each event one at a time and see where we end up at the end of this sobering journey that is sure to cast angry glances in my direction...but don't blame me for your foolish actions.

 

 

No Loyalty:

The discipline and sacrifices required of a synthetic Bodybuilder outweigh any other league. Plus the support needed from friends, trainers and loved ones are constantly in demand. As the date of ones competition approaches, the body and brain are tested to their limits and simple choices on any other day can seem like life altering decisions when competitors inch closer to peak week. However these challenges don't excuse infidelity when the person you supported throughout their entire “career” in bodybuilding is exposed as massive cheater through text and picture...for almost an entire year. How or why this person was forgiven on multiple occasions for their actions is not something I will dive into, but one would expect that if this scorned individual continued to prep all the meals, assist with all the bills and provide aid for upcoming shows, that the cheating would cease. It continued. This blatant disrespect of ones home and heart has reached a boiling point as of recent and this person has requested their significant other of many years to exit the home permanently.

Evidence: Direct Photographic, Digital.

 

Dream Thief:

Those that coordinate and run events collect all show registration fees for that show and for any membership fees for that league. Once the membership fees are collected, the event coordinator must submit all paperwork, cash collected and enter all competitor information into the league database. When multiple competitors were showing up at the same events with league membership receipts, yet were not entered into the database...this raised a serious red flag. Each membership now costs over 100 dollars with several hundred competitors per show. So why weren't these members registered in the leagues database? Where was the money? Simple...in the show coordinators pocket, well over 5,000 dollars worth of league membership fees. When the league discovered this theft of funds, the threat was made loud and clear, return the cash or be prosecuted. After the money was somehow recuperated, the show coordinator was flagged and banned from running any future shows.

Evidence: Direct Financial.

 

Swollen Merchandise:

Many Nutrition stores have sponsored athletes. They rock the company logo, have their league memberships paid for and also receive free or discounted supplements. It's never in the best interest of the amateur athlete to bite the hand that feeds them. However, greed is a trait that is far too common in this business and when the store owner started to notice that a certain type of supplement started becoming constantly low in stock, but the purchase receipts didn't match, obviously this signaled the owner that someone within the company was moving or using unpaid merchandise. Enter the sponsored athlete, who never fessed up to the theft, but was ultimately removed from the schedule and has since struggled to return to the National Stage after faltering in their diet and falling out of the top five. While the store owners plans to expand show promise and the client base is beginning to flourish, the former athlete failed as a coach and recently was recently photographed on social media showing “disapproval” of the leagues Bikini class, the very class this coach used to train multiple competitors in.

Evidence: Direct Financial, Missing Inventory.

 

Sacrificial Lamb:

Here are the directs facts on this case. While this competitor was training for their second show, they were also engaged in an extra-curricular relationship with a Martial Arts instructor while the other half was home...with that competitors daughter sound asleep. I didn't know Taekwondo class required vaginal penetration. This ultimately led to the other half being forced to leave the home claiming full responsibility for the failure of the relationship and without any knowledge of the affair or that the instructor moved in less than a month later, assumingly taking over parental duties. The other half only came to learn of the entire conspiracy several months later after continuing to pay for various joint bills. The other half also went on to win multiple trophies in two leagues while the adulterer failed to appear in their last planned show due to a “hamstring” injury and has yet to return to the stage.

Evidence: Direct Financial, verbal, phone logs, text & picture messages, voice mail, email.

 

Bi's, Tri's & Extra-Marital Lies:

(THIS SCENARIO IS CURRENTLY PENDING THE FINDINGS OF THE LEGAL PROCESS AND WILL BE RELEASED AT A LATER DATE.)

 

Final Synopsis:

These sad tales are thankfully not destined for all competitors, but learning all this information within such a short period of time is a burden I wish to bear never again. I have confessed all my shortcomings to the appropriate parties over the past few years and I no longer wish to be entrusted with such dark truths. We live in a society of selfish and lazy individuals with no self-control and zero accountability for their foolish and severely damaging actions. After reading this, you may call this article many negative things, but the one thing you can't call it...is a lie.

 

What kind of person due you wish to be going forward?  

POSITIVE SARCASM PRESENTS: THE SUPERHERO IN YOUR HEAD

You wake up slowly to the Saturday alarm on your phone, you know, the iPhone with the cracked screen and ugly oversized case “protecting” your selfie maker. You roll over to see your partner, who only hours ago lit up the night with their caffeinated smile and brand new skinny jeans, is now face-f&*king the pillow covered in eyeliner. You’re no better either, reeking of Tequila and Mexican food or maybe sushi…really, sushi sucks. Eat a burger you punk bitch.

            Anyways, you stumble into the bathroom to confess your sins and blast shower water that’s so hot, Dustin Hoffman would cringe in his sleep. After spending a few extra minutes in the shower trying to figure out where the bite marks on your nipples came from, you place both feet on the cold floor and stare straight-faced into the mirror as the minty bristles begins to coat your gums. This is the exact moment where Superheroes are born.

            While brushing your teeth or shaving your face, ladies not excluded, you go thru the days schedule and somehow saving the world fits in nicely between the days errands. You give the mirror that far away look, while lifting your shoulders and flexing your biceps. For that one intimate moment, you imagine the fate of the world relying on if you finished all your shopping on time.

            So what if you don’t have any combat training or cool gadgets? The fact is we all have a certain power, a kind of “Superpower” if you want to call it that. Maybe your not as strong or as angry as The Incredible Hulk, but if the Yankees keep giving up 3-run Jacks to Detroit, that 55 inch Plasma is easily seeing daylight as it pierces the glass and lands on the front lawn. Maybe your ride isn’t invisible or as fast as Wonder Woman’s plane, but once a month if you have a poor choice of words for your lady friend, she can quickly make your balls vanish into your stomach with just the surface of her foot. See? Superpowers. We have them. So what’s your Superpower? What superhero can you relate to? Let me say this before you get ahead of yourself, nobody can be Superman. He wasn’t born on this planet so he’s technically an alien. So unless you crash-landed in Roswell, New Mexico back in 1948, stick to those who were born or created on this planet at least. That means Thor is out too. However, maybe you have qualities similar to Batman, your friends are always in trouble after the sun goes down and you have to spring into action to bail them out of a situation…or jail.

Maybe you’re like Catwoman and you have a certain affinity for leather, whips and causing the trouble instead of getting people out of it.

Maybe you’re like Spiderman and came out of the closet at an early age. The point is that you have options!

            I personally enjoy The Hulk, but he has a knack for destroying just as much stuff as he fixes, so I’ll pass on the big green guy, plus his wardrobe sucks.

            I’m locked in on Captain America. Patriotic, yet isn’t afraid to question his government, rocks a cool blue outfit; which is my favorite color, but my biggest link to good ole Steve Rogers is the amount of punishment he takes throughout his path to victory. You can beat his ass over and over again, but he will defend his territory, friends and ideals to the death.

Have I given you enough information to help think about what caped crusader you may be more like? My advice, go stand in front of the bathroom mirror, hit your coolest pose that you’ve perfected since the age of 11, then find a nice comfy spot and grab yourself a beer…or a bong. Now proceed to just use your imagination and consider these two questions, what kind of hero are you and how will you save the day?

Positive Sarcasm Presents: No Excuses.

Trying to summarize this entire experience from the snap of the first progress photo to my final moments on stage is like trying to fit an elephant into a shoebox and mail it across Africa…yep, that’s my opening line.

 

            I remember ripping my shirt off, exposing what I thought was a pale-ass frame for the first time as my prep coach pokes at my body fat while several six-packs were doing bodybuilding poses directly behind me at the gym. All my doubts and nervousness were quickly swept aside as he quietly muttered, “I’m really excited to see how you’re body is going to progress.” After a brief emotional side discussion, I buckled down, fueled up the angry part of my brain and started what would be around 18 weeks of soreness, late nights, early mornings, emotional breakdowns, panic attacks and a war with myself that only now has subsided thanks to the love and support of my friends, teammates, coaches, family. Someone said this was supposed to a fun experience…I don’t remember that part.

 

Oh crap, lemme back up…after meeting a fellow gym rat and agreeing to train with him for five straight weeks, I stumble upon a charming white smiled bodybuilder, let’s call him “TJ”. That’s actually what everyone calls him. I asked for his help and he stared like a laser all the way across the gym at a local legend, a man who exudes more confidence than George Clooney in a dorm full of virgins. Bruno was his name…his last name. At this point, I had no idea who I was speaking with, all I knew was that TJ trusted him, so I went with that.

 

At this point, I had already decided what division I would be competing in and what League offered me the biggest challenge. Since the inception of Men’s Physique and Women’s Bikini, popularity for the National Physique Committee has risen insanely over the past few years and other leagues have quickly followed suit. Your physical appearance still matters greatly, but personality also plays a part in determining who places where and if you place at all. Essentially it boils down to conditioning, symmetry and stage presence. So during this process, I’ll be learning how to portion and prep my food on a day to day basis, pose as a bodybuilder in order to harden my muscles, all while resisting the temptations of everyday distractions or excuses…yes, all of them.

 

My first trip with Bruno was down to Newburyport for a local OCB show, a league he wanted me to warm up in before diving into the NPC and all the baggage that comes with it. First off, why the hell are these boarding short guys posing like bodybuilders? Why were they doing full routines? Why am I asking you? This show caused me many late nights in the gym trying to perfect a routine that I never actually performed on stage. One huge takeaway from this show was meeting Tom and Kim, a couple with more muscle than the Russian Mafia. Tom’s back required a topography map just to navigate across it and Kim’s abs coupled with her Dorchester accent could make any punk Irish kid under 5’8 run for his life. A couple steaks and black coffee’s later, Tom is videoing Kim and I half naked in a busy café street posing off in front of ….an oncoming Toyota Four-Runner. Quick, hit the oblique pose and get the F&#k off the road!

 

Oh…she won the pose off, by the way.

 

Anyone ever used a stair-climber machine? Looks like normal cardio equipment as you stroll thru the gym, but at 5am…it’s a death machine of pure evil. With nothing but a handful of vitamins in your nauseous gut, you ascend up this mountain of never-ending steps. Your head leans against screen in pure exhaustion, and you only keep your eyes open just enough to peel through all the food porn on Instagram. This, of course, is only your cardio, your workout still awaits you at the end of the day, along with a psycho gym rat, whose chest only reads “FEAR GOD.” Welcome to my summer of 2014.

 

In order to properly prepare for what would become 4 shows over 34 days, I had to lighten my mental load. Three weeks into training, I went to my storage locker; which contained what was left of my 30 years of existence. Without any hesitation or cognitive thought, the first trash dumpster I saw within a mile was where I left all of it. Armed with with a laptop, a smartphone and a small arsenal of gym clothes, I ambushed social media like it was 1968. Knowing that a large community of fitness fanatics eagerly were awaiting another Gym freak, what they got was me, a man with no “home”, no attachments, no identity…and no excuses.

 

By week 6, I was attacking the gym, social media, and after being screamed at by my nutritionist, I was also attacking the salt. By week 8, what once was a 180 pound soft shelled podcaster was now a 170 pound overly aggressive ball of veins. I had a chest, I had abs, I had wings, I had promise. 

 

My posing still sucked, but hey…baby steps.

 

Now after 3 months of posing, lifting, dieting, and video journals; which looking back I can barely understand what the hell I was talking about, the team was one week out from the first show. After a fun photo shoot with my Niece, I headed for posing practice feeling a little tired, but I thought it was from just working so damn hard to prep for my first show. Two days later, my temperature was 102 and the physique I had worked so hard for was shedding like a dog in the summer time. My first show was only days away and I was barely able to stand. By Wednesday I was full of drugs and covered in Pro-tan by Alison who was the only woman I even allowed to touch me during this process. Nice girl, just don’t piss her off. Regardless of how awful my first show was going to be, I was getting up on that goddamn stage no matter how sick or stupid I looked.

 

Somehow I manage to Dayquil my way up to Maine and register for the show, keeping in contact with Jimmy, my council, I sat in my hotel room and rested as I listened to the couple upstairs screw each other stupid…how goddamn romantic. It is now September 27th.

I don’t remember much of the morning, other than doing pushups in the parking lot before the show. I can honestly say nothing during that show went right for me, I had lost so much weight, my trunks didn’t fit, I was sweating thru my dream-tan, turning my skin a solid gold color, and before announcing my name for 3rd place, I puked up a phlegm ball so big, my lung was still attached to it, I went out onto the stage, became light headed and nearly buckled to the ground. Welcome to Men’s Physique.

 

There was no time to really review what happened during that show, because the next day, I was back at the gym, lifting and posing with the rest of the guys. Patrick’s season was over after one show, but his physique consists of very little flaws. Watching him and Tom battle head to head on stage was a show in itself. I’m glad everyone walked away from that show with hardware, but what I wanted was still 30 days away.

 

Next up was Cape Cod, tearing back into the weights with a body running at maybe eighty percent capacity, that’s more than enough for me and apparently it was plenty for my friends on social media, as I was surprised at the amount of support I was getting heading into the next show. I stuck with the same plan, reloaded on supplements and went shopping for new boarding shorts. It’s critical what colors a person picks, because dream-tan is unforgiving on lighter clothes. I’ve been told this before, but ignored the warning as I picked out a streaky white bathing suit for my show on October 11th. This time Jimmy accompanied me down to the Hotel where various topics including how great my hair looked were fired back and forth. Imagine a 168-pound Physique competitor and a 230-pound bodybuilder with very little patience for scratchers like me riding in a Saab for 2 hours down to the Cape, only to sleep in the same bed and watch him consume an entire seafood platter while I sip an unsweetened Iced Tea. Mmmmm delicious.

 

If you’ve ever been backstage at a fitness event, the heavenly scent of tanning products and body odor welcomes you as competitors scramble to find their buttons before running on stage. My dilemma lied not with my button, but with my shorts. Dream-Tan doesn’t really dry, so when I sat down for about an hour…yes I was wearing white shorts.

Thankfully I had a backup pair, which are now the most recognizable in my collection. Before hitting the stage at a carb-heavy 173 pounds, Bruno, Jimmy and myself briefly went over something I now call the “Victory Pose”. The photographer nailed it at the perfect moment, as I gaze at my closing hand and although my competitors were far better conditioned, this photo defines my entire experience thru this transformation, a tiny smile, a little redemption and a growing love for the stage. Tom, Kim, Shaina, and I all took home OCB hardware that day. However their season was over…mine was just getting started.

 

In a last second addition, we added NPC New Haven to the schedule, so just one week later I was back in the mix against much larger competitors. I found that since starting fat burners, my body wasn’t holding food like normal; which was expected, but my appetite was dropping rapidly. That I didn’t expect. So when I woke up Saturday morning in New Haven at 162 pounds, I had a feeling it was going to be an interesting day.

This was Rick’s, Hung’s and my first NPC show, so it was good we had a warm up show before the November 1st beast called The New England Regional Championships.

Lemme back up again, cus this article reads a lot like a Quentin Tarantino screenplay (see Pulp Fiction). Rick is big, calm demeanor, very approachable, but for some reason I can imagine him knocking out Big Bird without any hesitation. Hung…is a little ball of lean muscle. He lifts big and learns fast. He’s a little shy, but can own any stage, regardless of his height. Looking at my competition, Kevin Richards weighs in at 190 pounds…shredded. So after I see what I’m up against, I start pounding this sweet potato protein pudding I created the night before in order to look a little bigger against these monsters, but after eating a little too much (the whole Tupperware), I spilled out over my abs and chest. Day over. No callouts. No trophy. Lesson learned. Yet I wasn’t that upset, I saw it as a learning opportunity to see where my bodies’ limits were. It was a very well run show and I made a lot of friends at this one, some whom I will see again very soon. Michael Morin didn’t leave empty handed in Men’s Physique and Josh Brown happily returned my towel after crushing in Men’s Bodybuilding. I was happy to have cracked the top ten, so I had something to look forward to, as I was to begin prep for the final and largest show on my schedule.

 

So here we all are, all hands and teammates on deck. Big Rob with quads that only Jupiter could orbit, Bantamweight Andrew Lafond, who in my honest opinion has really nice hair and he really likes to be complimented on it. With the addition of Mike and Derek, we’re all sausaged up in the posing room. I’m not sure where Bruno found Hung, but I’m blown away at his ability to find the more promising Bikini girls in the region. Enter Jen Polk. She’s blond, bubbly, and some other nice word that begins with B that I can’t think of at the moment. This pink bikinied assassin isn’t far away from winning a big show thanks to the support of her fitness freak of a mother, Francis.

 

Okay enough compliments, back to business here…

 

At this point, after all the training and lack of sleep, my body is gassed. I took all the pre-workout I had left (six scoops) and flat-lined in the gym after about 20 minutes. I was 10 days out from the biggest show in New England, was way lighter than most of my competition and I still didn’t like the way I looked. I asked Jimmy if I could rest for a couple days, he agreed for the fact that I over-trained constantly. I was doing fasted cardio everyday and lifting every night. From the moment I woke up to the second I passed out, I was running, lifting, prepping, posing, my only quiet moment was tanning, and since that was the only true moment of peace I had, that’s when my emotions would at times get the best of me. When you train for something like this, there are moments in every competitors training when the brain and body fight back and it’s not always pretty. So just because I trained harder than everyone else, that doesn’t mean I trained smarter. So now if I was to avoid leaving my last show empty handed, I had to show up smaller. Size matters, but speed kills. Enter carb/water depletion.

 

Before leaving for Boston, I said goodbye to my niece, Nicole, who despite all our recent arguments, I hope will one day grace the stage with her cosmic presence.

 

Friday Morning…

 

I was in Boston before any of my teammates were even awake. Covered in Pro-tan and running only on the energy that the city was putting out, my last bit of water was a 2pm black coffee from the North End, about a mile from my hotel, I wanted to exhaust every bit of energy so that my sleep cycle that night would be uninterrupted. Applying Pro-tan yourself is fun, for me…it usually turns into a dance party, but I had to be careful while roaming around the hotel, cus the bill for a hotel in Mid-town Boston is already high enough. To ensure I depleted all my water the night before the show, I popped six more water pills before wrapping myself up at about 11:30pm. I had a feeling it was going to be a rough morning, but my shorts were ready, my food was portioned and my Calvin Klein Suit was hanging in the closet.

 

No Distractions. No Regrets. No Excuses. It was 6am on November 1st.

 

The only water I had was so I could down two multi-vitamins, two fat burners and six water pills. My hands were shaking, making it hard to shave. I put my headphones on, my all black hoodie and walked across the street to the event, by the time I was in line, I started to fall apart. The combo platter of AQX, Super HD and zero water had given my body all it could handle. Bruno saw me in line and tried to calm me down, cus I was in rough shape and would remain that way until they opened up the backstage. I was happy to see all my teammates and was very glad to also see Josh and Mike from New Haven. Since Alison didn’t have a backstage pass, she applied my Dream-Tan right in the upstairs lobby in full view. However, I waited to put on my shorts until we started lining up. The white shorts that were all messed up from Cape Cod were all clean and ready for the stage, but I decided to save them for the night show and brought back a pair of shorts I’ve owned since high school. The shakes were gone and my veins were popping, but competition was even bigger and I was the first one onstage to introduce my class. So I crushed a couple rice cakes, and a little bit of water. At this point, it wasn’t up to me. I was there and that’s all that mattered. 18 weeks and I was standing in the batters box about to pose in front 1500 spectators and 300 competitors.

 

Introducing Number 104…

 

What an adrenaline rush. Your there in front of everyone, lights blasting you in the face and you can only hit your pose and smile. Even thinking about it now, I shake my head in amazement that I did this many shows under very tough conditions in that amount of time. Lucky for me, Jimmy was right behind the judges giving me instructions with his hands, I heard Alison scream, “Corso, your abs!” I squeeze down and Jimmy’s final instruction was a closed fist, meaning, “Lock it up and look right at the judges.”

 

Before leaving the stage, I made a switch with 108 leaving me standing right next to center stage. I knew very well what this meant in prejudging…

 

Break time was rather rewarding, as a burger and fries can warm the hearts of almost any hostile nation. A few laughs later, we were backstage once again for the finals. It was almost over and everyone was doing well. Before heading onstage for the last time, I received some important information. My whole purpose of taking the stage was to become a better person…turns out I already was…by a landslide.

 

I went behind a door and made a rather heavy call to South Carolina, where my parents currently reside. I grabbed my menthol spray and white shorts with a renewed sense of purpose and proceeded down the narrow backstage. It was loud in the theater but at that moment when they called my name, everything in my head became calm. I felt relief, freedom, redemption. I hit the pose, waived to the crowd, took my first NPC trophy and the first two faces I saw were Bruno and Jen, I gave Bruno a hug and Jen a big compliment.

 

And just like that…it was all over.

 

I haven’t stopped thanking people, gaining fans and making friends. I’ve already set the date for my return to the stage in 2015. I’m very excited for my teammates I now know that will be part of my life for a very long time.

 

A few weeks later I was once again across the street from the same venue attending a show and was on my way to the after party to see my buddy and fellow competitor Kevin, when I received a text…one that changed everything.

 

Thank you to all my teammates, prep coaches, friends and fans. I’m at your service.

 

Sincerely,

Joseph M Corso (Positive Sarcasm)

Building a Better Man: One Week Out

Yip....its here. 4 shows. All the training, the portioning, the panic attacks. The coaches are ready, my team is ready...I'm ready. I've ignored all the distractions, walked past every fast food place, turned down every woman and haven't given up on a single rep, no matter how tired I was. I've bled my music for all its worth, every dime I've had has gone towards the best suppliments and the best trainers. No exceptions. I'm tired, but pumped. I'm scared, yet excited, I feel small, yet I walk big. There isn't much else to say at this point, but I promise when the last show is over and the crowds head home, I will throw on a nice suit and a camel colored long coat and...hold on, my trainer just yelled at me again.

Anyways, I was saying, whether I place first or worst, I'm leaving to find the nearest slice of pizza, the best cappachino, and a massive slice of cheesecake. I will most certainly compete next year as I have stupidly discovered something in myself that's worth pursuing in the future. Until then, hit the stage, rock the smile, nail the pose and when its all over, eat the whole town.

Building a Better Man: T-Minus 20 Days

Who is tired? This guy. Well I can say after about two weeks that the chewing gum between meals experiment was an absolute failure me. It became an addiction as I was popping three pieces of trident every hour. Its not worth it when your dropping 20 bucks every three days on gum alone. Tie that with four cups of coffee a day and my body was angry. So I kicked the gum altogether, dropped to maybe one small black coffee a day and grabbed some Altoid minis just in case I need a confidence booster. We are now less than 20 days away from the biggest challenge I've ever faced. So much time spent training, portioning and posing. A whole summer...gone. Yet my focus narrowing more and more everyday as I tighten my routine, book my hotels and prepare to hit the stage with my teammates. Because I'm physique, I get to keep my meal plan throughout all the shows; which is more generous than the bodybuilder class. Only three things are on my mind as all four shows draw near, how well I can place, what I'm going to eat when its November 2nd and third thing I'll keep to myself. I can say for sure that this has been quite an experience and that I should have approached this sooner. I have a lot of people to thank when its over, hell I've already started. I hope I do well, but I hope my teammates conquer the stage as well and that's why my support and my fridge are open for whenever they need it.

Building a Better Man: Week 8 & 9

Forty-five days until the first event in September and my calves packed up and went on safari. It takes all the power out of my workouts. My pre-workout supplements are of no help, because the body adjusts to them every 30 days, so I have to cycle off of them and by the time they are effective again, I’ll be in depletion mode. So no more Creatine, C4, or sodium. I was stage ready by week 8, so now I’m just circling like a plane above a blizzard-covered airport. So black coffee, posing and lots of fruit flavored Trident are what keep a lot of competitors sane during the dieting process. Some, like myself, like to take photos of the food they are going stuff in their faces after the show is over. As for me, I have four shows in 30 days, so that privilege will have to wait. I feel like I’ve already left earth, but have yet to reach the moon, but after the nerves are shaken off from the first show, my body will continue to harden after each show; which is a plus for me, as my last two shows are NPC and since I’m an all-natural competitor, my opponents may be a little bigger. Thankfully, to the trained eye, there is a noticeable difference between a natural competitor and someone who uses PED’s. So if the judges are looking for sharper definition, my body will lean out and harden much more easily than the waterbugs next to me who juice. Still isn’t an easy task at my size so I’ll have to be the little dog in the fight. Still maintaining a distraction-free training regiment, I feel confident that these four shows will leave me in a better place as I take December off to rest and bulk.

 

          But mark your Calenders…April is Vermont and May is Boston.  

Building a Better Man: Week 7

Let’s get the digestive stuff out of the way.  It’s totally understandable that some people get a uncomfortable about their dietary discomfort when it comes to eating clean and at certain times…hiding from family and friends, just because your body doesn’t respond well to either brown rice or maybe broccoli. Heavy changes in your diet, especially for competition purposes can have you hiding in corners or curled up in a ball; which can kill any good mood, unless the local symphony is missing a horn section. DO NOT FEAR! There ways to combat these issues. As far as your food, discuss with your nutritionist about what settles in your body better when it comes to broccoli, asparagus, cauliflower, spinach, etc. Also your nutritionist will normally recommend brown rice as a daily carbohydrate. Your body may have an unfriendly reaction to this as well. White rice never fails as a healthy and very simple carb whether you’re a competitor or a healthy dieter. But do discuss all these substitutes with your nutritionist before making the switch. Another daily need for most hard working folk is coffee or tea. If you’re competing, you may have to compromise your flavored creams or half & half for coconut milk, almond milk or just straight black. I’m a big fan of coffee, so I tend have a medium blend with some sugar free vanilla flavoring with no milks or creams. Coffee is not an enemy of competitors as it can support metabolism, but the second you add sugar, it will hinder your process, so consider Stevia ONLY. When it comes to tea, normally black or green teas are a high recommendation and aid in healthy digestion and are packed with anti-oxidants. Don’t overspend on your green tea, but consider Stomach Ease tea from the brand Yogi. This can aid you in preventing any unwanted experiences. For the ladies, a simple pro-biotic may be in demand. Whether it’s a pill or a chewable, it’s worth spending a little extra for the right supplement.

          It’s going to take a little while for your body to balance out after the diet change, but it’s all part of a much larger spectrum when building a healthier, happier, better you. 

Building a Better Man: Week 6

Finally, after all the early and exhausting mornings of empty stomach cardio, uncountable amounts of ab-work and internal mental battles, a giant burger is on the horizon for my first approved cheat meal and I'm proud of my physical progress as of this point. Believe me, this simple treat was well worth wait…all 13 pounds of it. Now that I have more of a sodium balance in my diet, my muscles have become more responsive to my constant lifting. To ensure that my body and mind are still intact, I consulted a doctor to make sure my joints and other levels are holding steady. However, I was also concerned about my emotional and mental stability in continuing to handle the intense workouts along with the food portioning, plus the stresses of daily life, so i've had a trilogy session with a psychiatrist so that I could properly reflect on the first month of training and prepare for phase two. Its important to me to know that no stone is left unturned in my training for 3 competitions all in a month of each other. Its incredible how much punishment a body can take and how much time a person has when completely focused on the tasks at hand. Going forward, I want to maintain an open book with the readers, its important you understand the challenges as I face them, because everyone approaches challenges with a different mindset going in and knowing your strengths and weaknesses ahead of time makes the transition towards the stage easier. For some this is a fun experience, others its an opportunity at a career, a chance to travel, for me...its all about being the greatest this body and mind has to offer.

 

Building a Better Man: Week 5

After 5 weeks of training the body, now is a perfect time to take a look back for a moment and remember how I started. I adjusted to the early wake up time, I adjusted to the food intake, I doubled my reps at the gym, I pushed through some very late nights of making sure everything was prepped and ready for tomorrow. Now after losing almost 15 pounds, gaining a six-pack and stupidly throwing a 100 pound dumbbell across the gym, it’s time to learn control. This is where people get overconfident and either get hurt or sidelined by other events. It’s important to know that not everyone is training for an event and even though they may not understand or agree with your course of action, you’re in no position to judge them or give them advice unless they specifically ask for it. You can only control yourself through this process and if you look like and act like a winner, you eventually will end up in a better place only because of your actions and not your words. Words have no meaning if you take too long to act upon them. People ask me why I shave my body or why I don’t drink or many other things and these are people whom I’ve never met nor have approached. I simply tell them I am competing in an event and trying to better myself. This response inspires them and gives me another reason on top of the many I’ve compiled over 5 weeks to persevere and achieve greatness every week going forward and know that through this whole process, If for no other reason, I will have finally achieved a positive attitude, a strong presence, a charismatic personality, and a body to be proud of. It’s not easy to break years of bad habits, but it’s not impossible. Achieve greatness and everything else will follow suit…never lose sight or hope.

Building a Better Man: Week 4

Now we’re getting somewhere! Without a doubt, week 3, in my opinion, is when most competitors quit. For those who stick it out and put every ounce of energy into each rep and listen to exactly what their trainers are saying, the results are more noticeable than a giraffe driving a Mini Cooper. Week 4 has been nothing short of a revelation for me. I’m starting to truly understand the time, the effort, and the cost of getting on stage. For instance, over a span of 16 weeks, your food bill alone is around 2000 dollars. Your supplements will easily cost you around 150 dollars a month, and unless you have a sponsor or a trainer you know well, expect to drop another 500 to 1000 dollars for a nutritionist, a posing instructor, and short term trainer.     

 

Still want to compete? You may not and I understand if it’s not for you, but my goal is to reach a level of greatness in myself that I once thought to be impossible, but it’s only been 4 weeks, so I have so much more to learn and that’s what I look forward to the most. It takes a lot of energy to talk a big game, where that energy could be better spent elsewhere.

            One may find when taking on a task as great as this, that time may become an issue, but that’s merely an illusion. You can get up at 5am and do cardio, you can abstain from temptation where it’s all a big distraction, you can do one more rep, you can prep all your food in a timely manner, you can ignore all the negative people that may slow your training down, you can do all this and still have a large role in the community, excel at your job, or be there for your family. In closing, week 4 was the most important so far as it has taught me some very valuable lessons in commitment. After attending an additional event this past weekend, I’m completely confident when my first 3 shows in the fall are finally upon me…I will be ready for every single one.

            No excuses, it’s all you.

Building a Better Man: Week 3

Finally, after three weeks of non-stop training, lifting, cardio, my trainers ordered me to take a day off. It wasn’t an easy thing to accept, but I stayed away from the gym for a whole day…only to blast through the doors early the next morning and hit the heavy bag like it owed me reparations from World War II. Sleep is still an issue for me as my muscles desperately need the rest in order to recover and calf cramps are becoming more of an issue.

        On the plus side, I shaved my body for the first time ever and it’s crazy the amount of definition that was hiding under a little bit of peach fuzz. After only three weeks, the visual difference is nothing short of impressive and as long as my body can hold out, week 5 and 6 will begin to introduce someone that was built for a competition like this. Following the meal plan has become much easier and abstaining from booze, bread and women has become less of a choice and more instinctive. As long as I keep my eye on the events and allow myself to be absorbed by it, I will have a moment of clarity that has escaped me for a long time. The mission is simple; in order to become a better man…you have to destroy the old one. Let’s get to work.

Building a Better Man: Week 2

Officially twelve weeks out from my first event in Maine, the first couple weeks have taught me a lot about the financial, physical, mental and emotional cost of taking the stage in front of hundreds, if not thousands of people. Although a fear of the unknown is a common fear for most people, it’s the fear of certain failure that I would choose to avoid. In the last few weeks, I have yet to miss a cardio day or a lifting day. Today till will be my first “cheat” meal in three weeks. However, it’s not exactly a cheat, it’s just a way to pump up your muscles so that your able to make more gains in the gym. I’ve learned the three P’s to get ready for these events. Prep your food ahead of time so that you have you time for other facets of life. Portion your food according to your nutritionists specs is extremely important. Don’t question, just do it. Posing is what helps you beat stronger competition. Someone could have the best physique on stage, but if they can’t pose, they won’t place…don’t let that be you. I have yet to learn what it means to “over-train”, but I’m assuming I will very quickly, but hopefully not too painfully.

          Oh yeah, one more “P”…peanut butter. Trust me.