Hate is a strong word. But I hate eating healthy. The struggle is too real. Yes, I know it’s good for me. And yes, I always feel better when I upgrade my diet. But for the love of all things holy, it’s harder than frickin’ a math test. You have no idea how awesome my six pack would be if pizza was good for my abs. Or how sexy my chest would be if beer had the same impact on my body as broccoli. Shouts out to all of my health heads who have mastered the art and enjoy the process. I’ve got nothing but love for you. But me, I’m too in love with bacon, double cheeseburgers, milkshakes, Mexican food, and pretty much anything else that you shouldn’t eat on the regular. Maybe one day I’ll be able to put mind over matter and consistently have a diet I can be proud of. But what matters most right now is this unhealthy food that I want to get in my belly (Fat Bastard voice). Besides, eating healthy is spensive. Have you seen the price of an organic piece of chicken lately? Life is too short to not eat what you want. It also may be cut short with all of this transfat I’m inhaling, but I’ll worry about that later. For now, I’m just going to parlay in grease heaven.
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Hate is a strong word. But I hate people that live vicariously through social media. You know exactly the ones I’m talking about. For some reason, their life isn’t totally fulfilled without them having to portray this unbelievably baller-rific lifestyle they supposedly live. As if every moment of their existence comes fully equipped with bottles of champagne, designer shoes, red roses and is narrated by Robin Leach. Child, please. You ain’t foolin’ nobody. These clowns seemingly always forget one important fact as they make posts to their #BookofLies (Facebook) and Instagram………………..some of us know you in real life. We are well aware that those bottles you pop are Andre, not Cristal. You bought those Christian Louboutin’s at the Saturday morning flea market. And you only get those roses when your significant other has cheated on you. Social media is not the place you go to impress people. None of us really care about what you have (or don’t have). This is not a movie, and no one is handing out awards. I’m not saying don’t let us know when you’re living it up, but your incessant need to do so makes you look very insecure. And just plain silly. The whole “look at me” mentality is unbecoming and unattractive. Don’t worry about keeping it real for us. Do it for yourself.
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Hate is a strong word. But I hate that I just watched Peyton Manning retire. We’ll never see another like him. His command of the offense, dedication to his craft and constant pursuit of excellence were a joy to watch for 22 years. He revolutionized his position in a way that is comparable only to Michael Jordan and Wayne Gretzky. He set an unbelievably high bar, and was an excellent example for all young quarterbacks. I didn’t tear up like my boy Josh, but I certainly don’t blame anyone that did. When one of your all-time favorite athletes retires, it’s like a piece of your youth leaving. And you know that, no matter what, you’ll never get it back. His level of class was second to none, and he played the game with a vigor and passion that showed a blend of childlike enthusiasm and true professionalism, unlike anything we’ve seen before on the gridiron. Regardless of the venom and hateration that people are attempting to surround him with, this is his day. The man should be lauded and saluted for his accomplishments. Both for what he’s done on the field and how he’s positively impacted the lives of tens of thousands of people off of it. I’m honored to say that I’ve met him, and had the chance to speak with him one-on-one. It was a tremendous moment. And while I wasn’t fortunate enough to hold his hand like Casey, it’s still something I won’t soon forget. So Peyton, from all of us to you: thanks for the memories. We’re all better for having watched you play. Now, you can ride off into the sunset with another ring on your finger. Just the way things should be for the Sherriff.
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