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Whatever it is that you’re saying, doing, eating, smelling, rubbing, throwing, mowing, pooping, singing, slinging, cooking, loving, or believing. Half-assed effort caters to “What If…” regrets. Have you ever half-assed a baking recipe and ended up with inedible “edibles”? Do you really expect to get the same results from doing P5X instead of P90X? This world is bizarre enough as it is, so knowing that you couldn’t have done anything more makes it easier to accept without having to understand.
We’re all capable of putting ourselves in the best position to succeed, so if you’ve decided that the job/body/guy/girl/life is worth pursuing, then you owe it to yourself to do just that.
Be the dog, not the douche.
Nope. Fuck that sick bastard.
Sandboxes were the tits when I was a kid. Digging holes, building castles, burying treasure maps, throwing sand at girls…just a grand ‘ol time. What I didn’t know at the ripe age of 5 was that sandboxes served another purpose for filthy cats.
Growing up, my brothers and I had the all-in-one playground structure in my backyard. One summer afternoon, my brothers and I were digging in the sandbox looking for treasures. What kind, you ask? Who knows, we were idiot kids with imaginations. Aside from the usual rocks, twigs, G.I. Joe body parts and Hot Wheels cars that we typically found, my older brother dug up a small brownish-black nugget that we hadn’t found before. It was lighter and softer than a rock, but darker than the sand. With the sight and touch test done, the next natural progression was smell. So we smelled it, and it smelled like poop. Literally, because, well, it was cat shit. Being the smarter of the 3 of us, I made the suggestion that it was poop. The other two gave it another smell or three before agreeing with my conclusion. Slightly embarrassed but still kids and brothers, we did what any trio of boys would’ve done…we threw the poop at each other.