Post-workout showers are the best. So is post-workout chocolate milk. Not so much the post-workout dying though.

Side-note: One time I was interested in this guy and he told me that I had moobs. And I had to explain to him that they’re not moobs, that they’re pecs. But that they’re just barely pecs because how in the world do I reserve the right to call those pecs? They aren’t. But they aren’t moobs either. Because they are literally made of muscle and are there because I’m athletic and do like 5 pushups every day. Yeah, suck it. 5 whole pushups.

And so now every time I post a shirtless picture, or am shirtless in general, I think that people think that I have moobs. And then I want to explain to them that they aren’t but, like, also how does one just start a conversation about their own chest? It’s actually turned into a real big insecurity for me that I was, at first, trying to mask with jokes in this post but am apparently now just literally pointing out to the world.

Oh, alright. I originally took this picture just because I thought I hadn’t been shirtless enough on tumblr and now it’s turned into a therapy sesh. COOL.

I’m calling it. Writing a ten minute play is much harder than writing a full length.

Also difficult: Pants.*

*EDIT: Also also difficult: Explaining to everyone that that’s totally not my penis on the bottom of the picture. I say that explaining that is difficult because I really have no idea what the fuck that is. But I know that it’s not my penis because I’m wearing underwear and also because I sold my penis on the black market one time so that I could go to Panera.

EDIT II: Panera is like rully good you guys.

EDIT III: I think it might be the thumb from my right hand. Investigations are still under way. A re-enactment will happen and will probably be shown on America’s Most Wanted: Penis Edition.

Who asks for questions and then all but falls asleep? Me does. Ryan. That one.

I’ll get to them right after I wake myself up with some squats. SQUATS Y’ALL.

I’ve started using empty candle jars as containers for my homemade sugar scrubs.

Gee, let’s play guess that sexual orientation. 

Did I mention that I cut my own hair? ‘Cause I did. Thank god it grows so fast because I totally cut it way too short.

I’m almost all caught up on House of Lies and that makes me sad.

I am literally Kristen Bell’s character though. Like, we’re one in the same.

(Ignore my desk. IGNORE IT.)

Remember when I had to write out a resume, but instead I made this? Because I do. And I still use it to this day.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I’m still unemployed. And proud of it.

Little known fact: My hair is a superhero. Its power is super resilience. Which is very helpful when fighting crime but not so helpful when I want to style it ever. Also my hair never fights crime. So I guess it’s more of a super villain. 

The Two Meanings of Bow Ties: The Un-Ironed Shirt Edition

1. “I’m now appropriately dressed for almost all occasions. (Or I would be if I knew how to iron.)”