do not weight train with this man.
he might look like a sensitive new age armenian string cheese buying guy, but then he's all, "dead lifts are the best thing ever!" and it's twenty-four hours later, you need the muscle-numbing hot shower the icy pipes in your hundred-and-twenty-three-year-old building are denying you, and you feel like my car in high school when we parked it at irvine meadows for the KROQ weenie roast and a half-conscientious thief ambled by during the concert, stole the working battery, and replaced it with an almost-dead one (that they actually hooked back up). in short, ow.
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