Fear not my ample manhood

Mark Leyner day, I guess...

I’m sitting here at my keyboard pounding out this missive as I digest my lunch. Panda-burger with cheddar. No bun. I burp. Listening to Rilo Kiley. I’m in my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. Blue Armani frames with blue tinted glasses to better stalk my prey. Although now I do not stalk. I type.

The red line at 8:30 AM was chock full of lovelies. This inspires me to pose. I pose for these poseworthy creatures—Front Double Biceps, Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Back Double Biceps, and signature Back Lat Spread. One lovely turns bright pink and faints. Another goes into labor. A third wants me to sign her breasts. I whip out my Mr. Sharpie and oblige. A fourth wants a charcoal rubbing of my abs. Have at it, babe!

At Judiciary Square I’m thinking that I’ll hit the gym before I hit the office. I’m thinking, lime green banana hammock is a good look for Thursday in the gym. I’m thinking, my pecs, abs and biceps are in sore need of a workout.. Preacher Reverse Curl, Seated Concentration Curl, Crossover Chest Fly, Pullover Crunch. These are on the menu.

Me you ask? Atkins dieting. Eating endangered animals. Posing for the poseworthy. Garments that accentuate my ample manhood. Dignity. That is what I am about. And if you want me to sign your breasts with my Mr. Sharpie, drop me a line.