Oh hey ladies, I almost didn't see you there, sitting behind me while I worked my 'ceps. I'm actually on the way to the gym, but you know what they say—Why sit when you can get ripped? Yes of course they say that, don't you read. Heh. Babes, man. Good to look at, not much goin' on between the eyes.
Before you start thinking I'm just about looks, you know, maybe "Well Craig is just so ripped, he must be quite dull, mustn't he?" To which I say, "Look babe, this isn't Breakfast at Tiffany's, this America. This is the M train. Let's drop the "mustn't" and the "darns" and "golly-gees." But just because I'm a man who doesn't have time for flowery crap doesn't mean I'm not educated—you see my bag? DK—that stands for "Dorling Kindersley." I don't know what the fuck that is, but sounds British. Anyway some broad left it at my house last week after I finished rubbin' her down with my favorite Green Apple Edible Massage Oil. It's perfect for carrying my Muscle Milk and yeast flakes, so I hid it under the bed while she was in the shower.
So look, I got another 45 reps to go and I'm 'bout to blast some jams but listen, I was wondering, maybe you want to work out with me sometime. You just lay on down on the seat there, rest your face right down in the molded plastic, and I'll let my hands and the edible massage oil do the talkin'. Give a new meaning to "straphanger," if you catch my drift. You do. Cool, man, cool. This your stop? Really? I thought you said...OK well Thursday, then, right here. It's going to be the ride of your life. I might even take my shades off.
