"My few hours at the Arnold Classic" or "BEEFCAKE!"

A friend of mine won an entry for a drawing for a new Kia, as well as two tickets to the Arnold Classic held here in Cowtown. The convention center was packed with 'roided out men and women, booth babes, and normals. I swear, I've never been someplace where the "she's a man, baby" women to hot women ratio is 1:1. I only took pictures of the hot ones. Mmmm...body glitter. Booth babes, anyone?


Like I have a chance.

Juiced up meatheads were everywhere. BEEFCAKE! This one was some Meathead Celebrity. I had no clue who he was, but the Regular Meatheads were creaming their pants over him (well, they would if their genetalia weren't all shrunken):


"Nice bicep, Thunder."

As we were leaving, the governor of Kali-forn-i-a showed up. I was close enough to hypothetically shake his hand and transmit a deadly virus. I really wanted to shout, "I love you, Gambler!" but I don't think anyone'd get the reference. That and I didn't want to be jumped by his security.


"It's not a tumor."

So, I came home with plenty of free crap: magazines, protein mixes, workout towel, power drink, lots of colored pills. Just for gits and shiggles, I should ingest all of the consumables at once and see what they do.


What the hell am I gonna do with this stuff?

All in all, it was a pretty fun morning. I received the aforementioned free junk, basked in the Governator's glow, witnessed some freaks of nature, and left sexually frustrated after being in such close proximity to all of the booth babes. Those with access to my Imagestation, the album's already up.