The skull t-shirt makes you feel alive, and you punch your bedroom wall for some weird nerd reason. Ouch you think as you bandage your bleeding knuckles.
You head to the garage and grab your mountain bike. It'll be a long journey, maybe 100 miles or so, but the doctor said you could use some more exercise anyway. You open the door and see your mother's Geo Tracker in the driveway. You can hear her favorite Eagles cassette tape blaring. It looks like she left the thing running all night. You glance back at your bike. Well, what do you think?
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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