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To answer your question (click here for a popup), I have no idea if he is on the market, but he is indeed no longer the Gentleman Friend.
By the bye, if you are going to mention me in your Missed Connection, please include my URL so that I can at least benefit from a meager boost in traffic. Thank you.
As promised, I will post pictures of my progress on Fridays.
I don't really remember this picture being taken (because I was having such an amazing time with Jerry at 3 a.m. last Saturday - imagine that!) but I like the way my arms look. I changed up my tricep and bicep workouts recently and the difference is noticeable, at least to me. After a good pump, I look in the mirror at the gym and am like, Wow, I am starting to look like a bodybuilder.
OK, back to hating myself. Have a great weekend.
I can forgive her for this because their reunion concert is going to be AWESOME.
Does anyone remember Jeremy Jackson? I blogged a few years ago about the following before-and-after picture from AwfulPlasticSurgery.com. I happen to think he looks better in the "after" picture because I'm a stupid guinea from Staten Island.
He seems like the kind of person who'd start juicing at the age of 16 and be 210 pounds by the time he turned 20. Instead, as you can see below, he's just another skinny 26-year-old with delusions of grandeur. Not hot. Good chin implant though!
I was talking to a friend about an event I have to attend this week that requires a suit. I haven't put on a suit in months, so this struck me as funny.
My friend pointed out that my suit might not fit me anymore.
"Ha! My suit might not fit me anymore!"
Heh. My suit might not fit me anymore.
Holy shit, my suit might not fit me anymore. Oh my god. Crap!
Oh, to be 5'7" and 215 pounds. Of course, Bodybuilding.com's "Hola Bola" was just 170 back in May 2004. Now he's huge, thanks to "a slow, clean bulk" - as opposed to my patented hasty, sloppy bulk, guaranteed in six months to make your family talk behind your back about how fat you've become!
Having learned my lesson, I no longer supplement my weight gainer with olive oil and whole milk. These days, the only things I add to my shakes are ground oatmeal and tears.
I somewhat identify with Washington Post staff writer Laurel Dalrymple, who reveals in today's paper that she is sufficiently egomaniacal to suspect she's incurred a "gym stalker." Hey, me too! The key difference between Laurel and me is that Laurel takes offense to the unsolicited attention whereas I am pathetic enough to be flattered by it.
After consulting the Internets for help ("Is lurking illegal?"), Laurel decided against filing a police report based on her evidence, which she freely admits was merely "a man who leered."
Except, no. Because what she really means is "an unattractive man who leered." If he had been hot, would she have been so quick to consider herself a victim of crime? Of course not. It's dishonest of Laurel to try to make us think that she is above a double standard that most of us hold.
The hilarious thing is that Laurel has evidently spent more time obsessing over her stalker than he has over her! All this, over a man who had "never spoken to me or touched me in any way." Well, there's still time for that, Laurel. There's still time!
"SurferStyle" from Bodybuilding.com is 6' and was 146 pounds in August 2006. He made it up to 170 by November and is now 185 pounds. It is OK to hate him.
I forgot to take a picture of myself for this morning's Body Dysmorphic Theater, so I'll make up for it on Monday. In the meantime, check out Bodybuilding.com's "krazybartender." He claims to be 5'5.5" (it's that extra half-inch that makes all the difference) and is currently 135 pounds.
It appears that he went to the Vividblurry.com School of Fitness Modeling, as almost all of his pictures are of his back. Also, he is rocking a sweet farmer's tan.
"K-WaL" of Bodybuilding.com is 5'7" and currently 160 pounds. In January 2006, he clocked in at a soft 180, started running every day, and dropped 20 by March. He considered this to be too skinny, so he began weightlifting in October. Eight months later and, well, you can see for yourself below.
I want to know two things: how did he get his neck to look like that, and does he wax or shave?
A recent CVS run with Agatha for a quick restocking of our Diet Coke and appetite suppressant supplies prompted a discussion of the illegality of ephedra, which, during its 2003 glory days, acted as a socially acceptable alternative to anorexia (and ADHD medication, thanks to ephedra's amphetamine-like properties).
Anticipating the 2004 ban, Agatha's mother wisely stockpiled the supplement, but the six bottles allocated to Agatha have since been exhausted. I don't know what Agatha takes now, but if in taking an appetite suppressant there isn't a risk of heart explosion, what's even the point?
I say all this because I've happened upon Alli [via Jezebel], the first weight loss drug officially sanctioned by the U.S. government for over-the-counter use. Amazing!
So, will Alli get you buzzed in addition to helping you lose weight? Er, not really. Let's just say that the official website advises consumers to wear "dark pants" while taking the drug. I wonder what they mean by that!
You may feel an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Until you have a sense of any treatment effects, it's probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work.You may not usually get gassy, but it's a possibility when you take alli. The bathroom is really the best place to go when that happens.
I want to slip some Alli into my roommate's bottle of olive oil and see what happens when she whips up another broccoli stir-fry. Just kidding - nothing would happen. Ag doesn't have an anus!
I don't really know who Gareth Gates is, but in an interview with the Sunday Mirror, he claims to have gotten stretch marks from taking steroids. And by "steroids" he means creatine:
"I'd been on the steroids," he admits. "I was taking Creatine, which is a legal steroid. ... It got to the point where I looked in the mirror and the size of my neck was just ridiculous. ... I'm back to my usual skinny self. I've still got the stretch marks."
First of all, creatine is not a steroid. Second, I can't find any pictures of Gareth's "ridiculous" neck. I would really like to know if Gareth is just making all this shit up, or if his weight gain 18 months ago had gained a lot of press and now his publicist is trying to diffuse any speculation by attributing the sudden transformation to a "legal steroid."
Speaking of stretch marks, these before-and-after pictures are a bit of a stretch. I don't see much of a difference, so if you uncover any pics of a puffed-up Gareth, let me know in the comments.
Our former landlady - or, as we lovingly (and, out of fear, discreetly) called her, Ms. D. - was a woman of great power and wealth. Equally impressive were her powers of property mismanagement. Everything she touched (or neglected to touch, as was most often the case) seemed to crumble into a state of disrepair.
The banging of the lead pipes. The peeling of the lead paint. The drain that refused to live up to its name. These are the memories of Ms. D. that I will hold - although those that will be held most dearly are those that Agatha and I invented, concocted and essentially made up, all out of our bizarre obsession with this simple yet deeply engrossing woman.
It all began on moving day in 2005, when Ms. D. called to say without elaboration that she wouldn't be around to give us the keys to our new apartment. "That's her prerogative," Agatha said, quoting Bobby Brown but also capturing the air of detached privilege that made Ms. D. who she was: a greedy old bitch. Later that night, we'd conjure up ways in which to murder her ("We could boil her," Agatha thoughtfully suggested) - mostly because we understood the futility of any such endeavor. After all, Ms. D. was immortal.
It was very painful for me to learn on Sunday that Ms. D. has died. She had breast cancer.
Although she will never know it, her memory lives on in her sister's fake blog (penned by Agatha, Shank and myself) and in my archives. I like to think that she's managing a property somewhere within the confines of the pearly gates - as she should be.
"Nordic Nightmare" of ABC Bodybuilding claims to have transformed himself in a matter of 12 weeks - two of which were apparently spent on strict bed rest, rising daily only to change and reapply the semi-permeable bandages necessary for his facelift and hair transplantation scars.
I joined a few social networking and fitness communities over the weekend. Check them out and add me as your friend!
(The MySpace profile is set to private because I uploaded photos there that haven't been posted here. But once you add me as your friend, you can view them.)
-BigMuscle.com (NSFW!)
-RealJock.com (Haven't been on here much but it seems fun. I'm aware that they advertise on my blog. I'm not getting paid for this mention.)
Addendum: In retrospect, BigMuscle.com and RealJock.com are perhaps a tad too risque for me, so those profiles are being deleted. However, MySpace is here to stay! Am I too old for pedophiles to find me attractive?
Benjamin says that he's always been a "very skinny, non-athletic guy" and subsequently suffered from "very low self-esteem." But after ballooning from 125 pounds to 170 pounds in three years, all of Benjamin's problems are gone! Isn't bodybuilding amazing?
He also claims to get eight hours of sleep each night and to never drink alcohol. LOL!
Say what you will, but in posting these pictures (in typical headless, torso-only style), I'm confronting my insecurities and forcing myself to take a hard look at the progress I've made over the last week. Body Dysmorphic Theater will be featured every Friday morning, and I promise to go beyond the torso, as legs are important, too.
Wow - so that just about says it all, right? I was apparently much larger in March - just over 180 pounds - and now I am about 10 or 15 pounds lighter, although I don't know the exact weight. (I've made a personal decision to not step on a scale until September.) As you can see, I was not only bigger in March but also fatter. I suppose that is what happens when you drink three protein shakes a day mixed with whole milk, ground oats and olive oil.
Here is what I did right this week:
- I started a new workout routine and gave it my all. This is why my chest feels like its on fire and I can barely maneuver my arms to effectively shampoo my hair.
- I went to the grocery store last night and stocked up on instant oatmeal, which was finally on sale. (Has anyone else noticed that oats are expensive as fuck?) I also bought some ingredients recommended by Giada to sex up my boring brown rice.
- Someone at the gym said I looked good, and I replied with a "Thank you" instead of a "Oh my god, no, I'm so skinny, I look horrible, please put me out of my misery, I beg of you."
Here is what I did wrong:
- I kept to my diet like my estranged biological father keeps to his promises. (Just kidding, my father is not estranged ... yet. But suffice it to say that I didn't stick to my diet at all.)
- I skipped Thursday's workout.
- I forgot to buy baking soda, so my Nalgene bottles continue to smell like fermented oatmeal and spoiled milk.
- I didn't bother doing abs on Tuesday.
- This isn't really related to my bodybuilding goals, but last weekend's bustier backpack gave me the most horrifying rash of acne on my upper back. It is painful and disgusting. My boyfriend is afraid he might "catch it." I feel like a leper.
Next week will be better because I'm going to spend Sunday cooking all the food I'll need in advance. And hopefully my bacne will be gone.
Ah, marriage inequality. This disparity in civil rights very rarely enters my consciousness, but when it does, I find it hard to resist being bitter toward my straight compatriots. Since there isn't too much I can do about this issue on a national level, I instead fight the good fight in small ways, such as by making things awkward for those who have the nerve to do something that I legally cannot do myself.
Take, for instance, the recent wedding of a female coworker to her boyfriend. In anticipation of the ceremony, a congratulatory card was passed around the office for everyone to sign. Most people wrote something along the lines of "Enjoy your big day!"
I wrote, "Congrats on getting married - sure must be nice!"
Well, the truth is I didn't actually write that, but the thought of doing so came to my head, which is sad. It's not fun to be bitter when others are rightfully happy. (The story of my life!)
That said, I very rarely explore politics on this blog because I almost never know what I'm talking about. But when it comes to the fight for marriage equality, I'll gladly do what I can to raise a little bit of awareness.
Tuesday was the 40th anniversary of Loving vs. Virginia, the historic Supreme Court case from 1967 that removed prohibitions against interracial marriages. In an effort to educate the community, a national GLBT organization, Freedom to Marry, has launched this provocative advertising campaign, which you should definitely check out and share with your friends.
And thus concludes this Vividblurry PSA.
OK, so maybe this serves more as an excuse to post a picture of Geri's disturbingly huge trainer [via Towleroad]. But her body has changed many times over the years, making her eligible for today's Morning Transformation.
For reasons that I won't get into, I have been watching a lot of daytime soap operas (particularly "All My Children") and am absolutely blown away by the imposing size of the male actors.
Have they always been this huge? Sure, it's improbable but nevertheless socially accepted that every woman in Pine Valley would resemble a stage-ready Miss America contestant - but I find it even more unlikely that every man would look like a Men's Health cover model.
Is muscle worshiping suddenly standard among housewives? I mean, these men are enormous - and they are given a wardrobe that seems to purposefully showcase their bulging arms and heaving pecs. I'm assuming the actors are contractually obligated to be large, unless all of them just happen to have a serious interest in bodybuilding. Either way, the actor's mass in most instances seriously upstages his performance to the point of distraction. Like, I tense up when Ryan embraces Kendall, for fear of his fatally crushing her.
Good Lord - now one of the male characters is wearing a sleeveless T-shirt. Not only do all the men of Pine Valley spend too much time at the gym, but they are probably gay, too.
Wow, check out Hefty McSquarepants in the "before" shot. Nice horizontal stripes, dude. Attributing his success to the equally dubious "Extreme Fitness" program, Christopher dropped nearly 100 pounds in two years. (That tan, though, only took him a few days.)
When I become huge, I, too, plan on highlighting my hair and wearing a seashell necklace. I will also impose a small "before" picture onto the corner of every photo taken of me from then until the end of time.
Does anyone else hate brunch as much as I do? I am never in the mood to eat on a Sunday morning because I'm usually busy throwing up and hating myself, and if there is one way to screw up your entire day, it is to start drinking at noon and have the three-beer blues by 2 p.m. (Three beers equals one beer past what is socially acceptable for mid-day drinking, one beer shy of just throwing it all to hell and getting fucked up. Guess the direction in which I normally go!)
[Disclaimer: I did enjoy a brunch-like meal with my boyfriend on Sunday at an Irish pub in Old Town. It's pretty good for a restaurant that features a cuisine based entirely on poverty and famine.]
My friend Tweaks, on the other hand, lives for brunch. In fact I think it is the only meal she willingly eats. Anyway, she just wrote up an extremely comprehensive review of brunching options in Washington, D.C., covering all the hot spots in Adams Morgan and Georgetown. This is required reading for the D.C. set! Tweaks has impeccable taste and I put my trust in everything she says. I take back calling her a hipster, because her existence is truly useful to others.
Want to know something disgusting? Brian claims to have gone from 125 pounds to 255 pounds in two years. He did this by eating 6,000, 8,000, sometimes 12,000 calories per day. (For reference, I eat between 3,000 and 4,000 calories a day.) 12,000 calories a day? Really? Um, I believe that's what's known in the industry as an "eating disorder." Gross.
OK, time for me to go drink my 1,000-calorie weight gainer plus pulverized oatmeal and olive oil shake. Bye.
Have you ever scanned the weather report before heading out to a bar, only to see that there is a chance of showers, so you grab your umbrella, figuring it is better to be safe than sorry? And then you get to the bar and of course it hasn't rained, so you are stuck holding your umbrella for the entire night, because if you put it down somewhere, someone will take it, which means that it will almost certainly rain, because wouldn't that be just your luck? So you stand around holding a drink in one hand and your umbrella in the other, looking painfully awkward and uncomfortable?
That is kind of what Rihanna looks like when she performs "Umbrella" while holding one.
Parker is 18 years old and went from 165 pounds to 195 pounds in eight months. I happen to think that he looked better at 165, but props for achieving his goal.
If you are wondering why there wasn't a Vividblurry float at the Capital Pride parade this weekend, it's because I was in Virginia hiking Old Rag Mountain.
This seven-mile trail is described somewhat conversely on LocalHikes.com as both "not one to do if you're out of practice" and "a great confidence builder for children," so I wasn't sure what to expect. (The website didn't mention anything about hoards of Asian tourists, so I knew it would at the very least be a change of pace from Great Falls.)
Turns out it was totally awesome, except for when I accidentally fisted Rusty while pushing his ass up and over a boulder. I highly recommend this hike, but be sure to bring bug spray and gloves (for the mile-long rock scramble, not the fisting).
I posted some pictures from the hike below! I'm the one wearing the push-up backpack.
With a name like Fabian, this German specimen of racial, I mean, physiological purity surely has a genetic advantage over a skinny guinea bitch such as myself. But no matter - like me, he is 5'11" and was once 145 pounds. Now, he is 180 pounds with a body fat percentage of, like, 2. If he were a woman, he'd be incapable of ovulation. And, really, isn't that the standard to which we all hold ourselves? (I'm looking at you, fatty.)
Now, here's a question for you: Why is it that, at 145 pounds, Fabian was hot when I looked anorexic and frail? And while we're on the topic of unreasonable comparisons, why is it that, at 180 pounds, Fabian is ripped when I appeared bloated and fat? I think this has less to do with my disturbed body image than with the fact that I was drinking a gallon of whole milk every day. God, I can never do anything right!
Here are some more pictures of Fabian. Don't worry; you still have time to kill yourself before the Pride parade on Saturday.
I've been long overdue for a missed connection. Here's the latest:
toby of vividblurry blog ... i saw you last night when you were leaving trios and walking down 17th st with your female friend. you were laughing and not at all acting like the winy bitch you are on your blog.
Well, thank you. I get that a lot. I also frequently get "I can see why you keep your face shots to a minimum" and "When are you going to start being funny again?" Too many questions! Please, can't a guy have a regular night out on the town without being heckled (or stalked) by his adoring public?
On that note, I need to rest. It would appear that I've lost my voice, presumably somewhere between drinks No. 1 and No. 4 last night at Trio's. The ol' vocal chords need to be in tip-top condition by tomorrow night, as I am seeing Nelly Furtado live in concert. We're going to be so close to her! Um, hopefully I won't give her strep.
CyberAgatha: http://www.washingtonian.com/ articles/people/2282.html
CyberAgatha: How the fuck can we get on there?
CyberAgatha: [CyberAgatha], 23, blogger
Vividblurry: HA HA HA
CyberAgatha: I am going to try to nominate myself
Vividblurry: we would make the list of 25 Ugliest Washingtonians
Vividblurry: not physically ugly
Vividblurry: but like, poor character, morally bankrupt
Vividblurry: this is how the profile about us would begin
Vividblurry: “Empty bags of Olestra-fried potato chips litter the apartment.”
CyberAgatha: Hahahaha
CyberAgatha: Moesha playing in the backgtround
CyberAgatha: The door opens and a bag of garbage is thrown into the hallway
CyberAgatha: And is then slammed
Vividblurry: a comment about the furniture
Vividblurry: "a dilapidated table-and-chair set referred to unironically as a 'pub style dining set'"
CyberAgatha: Hahahaha
CyberAgatha: Empty tea lights scattered on the window sills
Vividblurry: Friends of [Vividblurry] and [CyberAgatha] describe the long-time roommates as "self-absorbed" and "hateful."
CyberAgatha: Those who dislike them are viewed as "obviously jealous"
Vividblurry: "The pair illustrated a crippling dependency on high-speed cable internet access, often shouting vulgar epithets when their network went down."
CyberAgatha: The closing would reference Lady Macbeth washing her hands of guilt and mention the stolen Proactiv somehow
Vividblurry: "Arriving late to the interview hosted at their own apartment, the two seemed out of breath and giddy, having returned from setting off illegal fireworks in the parking lot behind their apartment building."
CyberAgatha: And enthusiastically boasted that they had once even set off a smoke bomb in the building
CyberAgatha: [CyberAgatha] suddenly bears a serious demeanor and announces that she doesn't like poor people.
Vividblurry: lolllllll
CyberAgatha: The kitchen, though clean, is cluttered with plastic solo cups, which the pair wastefully uses in place of the TJ Maxx crystal glasses that stock their cabinets
Vividblurry: omg
Vividblurry: we are such horrible people
CyberAgatha: We are truly ugly
Vividblurry: The bathroom, accented with framed photographs of youthful celebrities and, of course, themselves, is fully stocked with crisp, plush, blindingly white towels. Attempting to conceal a Nair-covered hand towel sitting in the garbage can, [Vividblurry] casually notes that the towels are stolen from a health club.
CyberAgatha: Hahahaa
Vividblurry: we should wipe our asses with the hand towels
Vividblurry: and throw them away
I had a large vanilla-flavored McDonald's iced coffee today because I'm disgusting and have no self-respect. The thing is, I saw an ad for the "premium" coffee drinks on the Metro this morning, and the now-routine commute to Rosslyn has worn me down to such a degree that I would consider going to McDonald's at the mere sight of a golden arch.
Figuring that I needed a little "pick-me-up" and deserved to treat myself (neither is true), I walked to the nearest McDonald's at noon (Boy, what a great time to go!) and stood in line for my highly anticipated working class indulgence.
And let me tell you, it really is the most amazing shit ever, not only because it tastes so damn good, but because a large 32-ounce serving costs less than $2. I should add that it has 220 calories (hmm, OK) and 11 grams of fat (um, nasty). I also ended up buying chicken nuggets (nastier), which is exactly why they offer "premium" iced coffee in the first place: to lure people like me (specimens of the healthiest caliber, alcoholism and assorted pharmaceutical drug dependencies aside) into a McDonald's, where they will invariably buy shit they never intended to get in the first place.
I also got a milkshake.
By the way, for reasons I won't get into here, I do not recommend the pairing of iced coffee with chicken nuggets. I just don't.
1. Um, are those wisps of smoke, or strands of a black girl's weave?
They are supposed to be wisps of smoke, but the more I look at them, the more they look like something I'd find disconcertingly tumbling down 16th Street on a Sunday morning. The wisps still look cool and artfully placed nonetheless.
2. Is that you in the header image? Because I've seen you recently and...
Yes, that is me. The photo was taken on May 28, 2007, at 8:10 p.m. I'm kind of slouching, which contributes rather effectively to the illusion of pectoral muscles and abs. Aside from color saturation and contrast, the photo is not otherwise Photoshopped.
3. Your blog has a lot of advertisements on it now. How dare you try to profit from something that thousands of people enjoy for free each month!
The ads are unobtrusive and purposefully targeted to gay men with an interest in fitness and bodybuilding. I've been blogging since 2001; I deserve a small ROI at this point, OK?
4. How do you choose your advertisers?
I don't; Google assigns them automatically and without my input. This is why it looks like RealJock.com threw up all over my blog.
5. Are you going to blog only about bodybuilding and your self-diagnosed body dysmorphic disorder?
No, and my disorder is not self-diagnosed, thank you very much. This blog is more or less an account of my quixotic journey from Body Dysmorphic Town to Muscle Dysmorphic Village. They are not so much different municipalities as they are hamlets of a single township.
6. I give it two weeks before you disappear without explanation, only to put up another apologetic splash page a few months later.
Yea, probably.