Yeah. The Blerch. THIS guy…
Up until a week ago, I knew the Blerch, just not by his proper, baptismal name, Now I know who that little sh*t really is.
Doesn’t matter if you run, bike, swim, or make an Olympic event out of getting off your dupa and dragging it to the fridge for a
gallon cup of Moose Tracks ice cream, this evil little beast is constantly flitting around, slyly guiding your ice cream scoop-laden hand into the carton for yet ANOTHER scoop of creamy delishessnessess(?) He is the epitome of all things evil about physical fitness – tired, sore, hungry, lazy, unmotivated, smelly, and poopy. Not unlike certain days I have had.
It only took the somewhat twisted genius of Matt at TheOatmeal.com to put a name to the little blob of evil wretchedness-ess. (Yeah, this little sh*t deserves an extra -ess). The Blerch, made his appearance on Facebook last week, much to the chagrin of us who have known about him and his evil plan for world dominance by taking over everyone’s metabolism and turning it into the speed of a slug schmoozing through a puddle of peanut butter. Athletes everywhere have been
dreading rejoicing over his newfound rock star status, as they can now proudly say, ” I knew that little sh*t back when…”.
See Exhibit A.
So for those of you who have been experiencing the fear of the unknown, you can now rest assured that sick feeling way down in your gut isn’t necessarily indigestion or the overwhelming urge to pull off into the trees at Mile 13 and poop. It’s just the Blerch. And he’s right behind you. Coming to get you. Whatever you do…..don’t……turn……around…..
Enjoy the ride.
Have you been attacked by the Blerch? What did you do to survive and live to tell about it?