This installment features my Tanzanian roommate and my late night discussions. As all of you (my two followers) have probably noticed, it has been bone-chilling for the majority of the past couple of weeks, so me and my roommate thought heated discussions might warm-ups up a tad. Recently, we have both been enduring excruciating workouts in the weight room. Ergo, we have initiated a competition pertaining to who could provide the most ideal workout for the most muscle growth and strength. This little debate has basically assumed a position as prerequisite to me emptying myself for sleep. I attempt to soften him up and catch him off guard by stating, "You know, big man, you are starting to look like Denzel Washington," and he cleverly turns my attempt right back on me by murmuring, "What? Did Arnold Schwarzenegger just say I looked like Denzel?" He may have exposed this tactic of mine, but I plan on creatively devising others. We both attempt to devise systems that are fairly rigorous and maximize various regiments that correlate into optimal muscle evolution. While we both try to mix up our muscle's stress factors, his preferred methods involve many repetitions of a fairly rigorous weight. My tendency is to devise a system that includes many sets of heavy weight with a relatively low amount of repetitions. He disclaims my ideas by often saying, mind you with an oversized smile on his face, "Yeah, your routine would definitely assist Rocky in becoming a beast." I learned that one of my heroes, the Italian Stallion, was not only my hero, but also Alex's entire family's. He revealed that all fourteen of his family members had seen it, and this allowed a good male bonding session as we relentlessly complimented the pure motivational genius of the anthology. This lessened the effect of his sardonic comment, but still led me to believe that he was hinting that my routine is outdated. My instincts often devise an inferior comeback that resembles, "Well, can you please help me find out why I am bigger than you when you have all the modern techniques?" It is all in good fun. However, I went pretty far one night by pouring shredded peanuts on his face while seductively whispering, "Hey, yo, Adrian." He pretend to be calm and collected, but I could tell he was enraged. A couple nights later, I woke up to the glorious discovery of eggs encomppassing my pajamas in an unfavorable fashion, and he exacted revenge as elegantly as a cat. However, we have somehow managed to retain our friendship.
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