It's his fault

So my personal trainer, David Williams, expects me to build him a shrine. He wants me to do this because he enjoys to hear me bitch and complain and crawl along the floor, because I am too damn weak and sore to do anything else. His "super legs" are anything but super. Definitely not "super" at 6:30 in the morning before work. Super would be...lets see...a shmoke and a panacke, a bong and a blitz, or a crepe and a pipe.

This entry is for David.

He rules all.
He is the best.
Everybody hopes to be just like him.
Chuck Norris doesn't have shit on David.


Oh and David's tears cure cancer; too bad he never cries.

So if at anytime over the next couple weeks I am pissing and moaning...don't blame me. Blame him. It's his fault. But hopefully soon, my body will be bangin, and that'll be his fault too!

Happy Saturday to all! I'm off to partake in a little partay tonight for a friend. Be safe, don't drink and drive, and come to the bar and buy me a drink.

- J

Who killed Jenny Schecter?!

Did you?!

Get the shirts here!

http://ikilledjennyschecter.com/