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'Twas The Night We Were Pumpin'

by Pete Puma and Butch Suede


'Twas the night we were pumpin' when all through the House*
Not a ripped dude was liftin', not even Huge Klaus.
The bench press was empty, the curl bar was bare,
The smokin' hotties were gone, nowhere to stare.


Some dickwads were shakin' their big douchebag heads
While homos were lacing their gay little Keds.
And Butch in his lift shirt, and I with wrist strap,
Were liftin' some weights though we both felt like crap.


When out in the lobby, we heard something shatter,
We ran to the noise while the wimps all did scatter.
Butch ran to the lobby and I heard a loud crash,
"Fuck, Butch, what happened?  Your head's got a gash!"


Then a huge dude and me were comin' to blows
We squared off to fight, and he kicked in my nose.
He stepped on my head while he chugged down a beer,
And walked over to pet some weird lookin' deer.

He was dressed all in red and man, what a dick.
He laughed, "Word up, asshole, my name is St. Nick."
Me and Butch stood up, we were done with that game.
And then he yelled out like we were all bein' lame:

Now bench press!  Now squat thrusts!  On leg press we're fixin'!
On incline!  On decline!  Now dead lifts we'll mix in!
To the chin up bar, to the medicine ball
Now pump away, lift away, lift away all!


As two twerps passed out doin' the chest butterfly,
Saint Nick threw them down and stomped on one's eye.
So to the bench press, Nick proceeded to shift
And it was clear to us all, dude knew how to lift.

He loaded on plates and gave Butch a quick slap
And when he finished his set, we all had to clap.
He bowed to us and said "Now, get back to work!"
So we ran to the bar to load, clean, and jerk.


Then he pulled up his shirt to check out his abs
Which is weird for a dude who never ass stabs.
Then he pulled out a bag that he called a sack
And reached in so deep, we could see his butt crack.

He spoke not a word, but the place went berserk
He whipped out a hot babe and gave us a smirk.
Then another and another came from the bag
Each hotter than the last and not even one hag.

A babe for every dude and sure, they were smokin'
We all cheered Saint Nick and no one was jokin'.
We each picked a hottie and left from the gym
And we turned to St. Nick but couldn't find him.


Then he sprang to his sleigh, and gave us a whistle
And made us all promise to wrap the love missile.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, stay ripped and stay tight!"

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*The Rip House, that is.

Awesomeness Retreat

A lot of fuckheads've been writing in askin' what the fuck's up with our blog cause nothin's been posted in like five fuckin' days.  First of all, I wanna let you assholes know that it's an awesome idea to look at our site every couple a days cause we usually try to put shit up at least every other fuckin' day...which is like a crash fuckin' course in awesomeness, dudes.

Business in the front, party in the back, dudes.  Awesome.

You twats who've been comin' around regular musta realized that To The Chest is the best fuckin' way to get huge, ripped and awesome fast as shit.  And that's cool.  Only thing is, you're probably not tellin' your asshole friends about us cause you're like those hot chicks who hang out with ugly fuckin' cunts to make themselves look even hotter.

Well, cut the shit, you losers.  Start postin' our site's address all over the fuckin' place: Twitter, My Space, Facebook, whatever gay shit you use to tell your butt buddies all the shit they don't even wanna know about you.  And while you're doin' your gay Facebook shit, shoot me a friend request so I can give your ass some one-on-one awesomeness lessons and shit.

So, anyways, the reason Butch and I haven't posted shit in a few days is that we went on our yearly "Awesomeness Retreat" last week.  We do that shit every year for a couple a reasons.

1. To get closer to our inner awesomeness.
2. To get more awesome.

Now, I know you twerps are probably thinkin' "There's no fuckin' way those dudes can get MORE awesome," but you'd be dead fuckin' wrong cause awesomeness is like hugeness or rippedness...you can never be too awesome, huge or ripped cause that shit's like the fuckin' solar system...it goes on for fuckin' infinity and shit.

Who knew the solar system was so fuckin' crowded?

So, what's the awesomeness retreat all about and how do you have one?  Well, if you didn't know that all retreats happen in the fuckin' woods out in the middle of nowhere, you're a stupid asshole cause that's the only place you can have a retreat.

 Butch and I drive for like 2 hours, park my awesome low-ridin' Civic on the side of the road and run into the woods non-stop for like three hours.  That doesn't sound like much of a workout but we each carry two cases of Muscle Milk so that shit makes it harder.  We also take a couple a jars of vaseline cause all that runnin' can make your fuckin' nipples bleed, dude.

Once we're sure we're in the middle of Yeti country, we start our awesomeness exercises.

1. Kill a deer with our bare hands - You gotta be super fuckin' stealthy and shit for this one cause deers are real shy and whatever.  You gotta hide behind a tree like a ninja and when a deer comes walkin' along, you jump out, grab its neck and strangle the fucker to death.  Extra points if the thing has horns and shit.

2. Punch a tree to death - Sometimes it's hard to tell when it's dead cause it doesn't breathe and shit but punchin' trees is awesome exercise and killin' shit helps you feel more alive or whatever.

This faggot couldn't kill a fuckin' shoe tree but you get the idea.

3. Wrestle 3 times a day to see who's more awesome.

4. Have a rock eating contest - Most assholes don't know this but rocks are filled with awesome minerals and shit that you don't get from Muscle Milk.  Rocks are like the 8th food group and shit.

Try not to look as gay as these dudes when you eat your rocks. Nice turd cutter in the background tho.

We do other shit but I don't wanna tell you all the crap cause then you'll know all our secrets to awesomeness and we don't just give that shit away.  You gotta take private lessons from us and then we'll tell you how to get almost as awesome as us.

If you wanna do a retreat like ours, you'll have to follow a few rules:

1. No chicks, dude.  Just two dudes.  No chicks cause chicks, no matter how hot they are, just don't fuckin' get how a dude becomes more awesome.
2. No sleeping bags, tents, extra clothes...just Muscle Milk and vaseline.  The fuckin' end.
3. You gotta stay out there for at least 3 days and 3 nights.
4. If one of you dies, the other one has to eat him and then tell everyone at home he just fuckin' disappeared and you don't know what happened to him.

Follow those rules, do our awesomeness exercises and make up a few of your own and you'll be on your way to supreme fuckin' awesomeness, dudes.

Keep pumpin'!

Go, Tiger, Go!

A lot of assholes don't know this but Butch and I are huge fans of tigers...probably cause we think Siegfried and Roy are so fuckin' cool.  They're not that ripped or huge but they're so fuckin' cool, they probably bag tons of chicks anyway and that automagically makes you cool.

I was searchin' the internets for some cool shit and I typed this crap in: 'Why is a tiger so fuckin' huge and ripped and where the fuck do they live, in the woods?"  Did I find the answer to my question?  Fuck no.  But I did discover this dude, Tiger Woods.  Dunno if you've ever heard of this fucker but I read he's been nailin' some wicked hot babes all over the fuckin' world lately.  I guess he's some kinda hot shit golfer or whatever.  Butch and I wouldn't be caught dead watchin' or playin' golf cause it's strictly for twerps, fat wads and gay dudes...just sayin'.

Dudes shouldn't play golf...and definitely not pregnant dudes.

Anyways, I was checkin' out some pics of this Tiger dude and I started thinkin', believe it or not.

1. This dude's pretty ripped for a golfer.  He's not ripped for a muscle-dude but for a golfer, he's  Ronnie Fuckin' Coleman.

2. What the fuck is up with this dude?  He's black but he's got those slanty eyes like most of the smokin' chicks I was bangin' on my last vacay to the Philippines.

So, I looked up this dude's parents and now I totally fuckin' get it.

This's gotta be the story:  Dude (Tiger's dad) goes to the Philippines for a good time, makes the mistake of knockin' up one of his little hos after some basket trick or whatever, ho's father sticks a bow and arrow (or whatever fuckin' weapons they've got there) in the dude's face and says he's gotta marry the bitch or he's gonna get an arrow through his fuckin' brain and bam, a couple months later, out comes a little fuckin' black golfer with slanted eyes.  Douches tell you all the fuckin' time a pic's worth a billion fuckin' words and up 'til now, I thought they were full of shit.  That story's not a billion words but it's close enough, dude.

So, anyway, fast fuckin' forward to a couple of years ago and this little black golfer makes it big time and starts rakin' in the moolah.  Somebody must've given the fucker a concussion or some shit though cause he turns stupid enough not just to get married but to have a couple of little twerps.  Tiger's wife is a total piece of ass and I wouldn't mind pumpin' her fulla jizz but between you and me, it takes a moron to marry a hottie no matter how smokin' she is.

Givin' Heidi Klum a run for the fuckin' money, dude.

But dudes make mistakes, right?  Even Butch and I make mistakes, believe it or not.  One time, we put so much fuckin' weight on the bar doin' benches that we snapped the fucker in two, dudes.  So even smart dudes make mistakes.  That's my fuckin' point in case you're a retard.

Tiger's concussion shit must've worn off though cause he figured out how stupid he was to get hitched and he starts bangin' hot chicks left and right...and that's fuckin' awesome, dude.  A divorce woulda been a great fuckin' idea but since bitches get to take half your stash when you get divorced, it's better to stay married and bang all sorts of other chicks and tell your wife to keep her stupid trap shut as a nun's snatch...except for the occasional hummer which I'd never rule out.

Bet this slut has to beat the dudes down with a fuckin' stick, dudes.

So, anyways, I just wanna let everybody know how cool we think it is that this dude figured out how wrong he was and then went ahead and corrected that shit.  Even if the dude's a fuckin' golfer, he's still the shit in my book.  I'm gonna start a Tiger Woods fan club.  As soon as everybody knows who this fuckin' dude is, I'm sure tons of assholes are gonna wanna join.  Butch and I may get some sweet tail outta it too!

Keep pumpin', dudes!

You Can Make Your Kids Awesome, Dudes

My sister and her pussy husband are raisin' puny twerps and that shit kills me.  Every time I have to go to their fuckin' Pottery Barn-lookin' house, I wanna puke all over those little losers and throw my sister's husband through a stone fuckin' wall.  Those little pussy kids are like 10 and they can't even bench 130 and if I wasn't so awesome, I'd probably cry about that shit.

I didn't say shit when those little assholes were babies cause you just gotta face up to the fact that besides bein' fuckin' annoying, babies are just weak as piss and I guess they can't help that or whatever.  They've got those soft fuckin' heads and they can't do shit for themselves.  To be honest, I'm fuckin' embarrassed that I was ever a baby cause they're always cryin' over shit that doesn't matter and they can't even beat up an emo kid.  But whatever.

Whatsamatta?  Somebody look at you weird? Grow the fuck up.

I'd fuckin' love to tell you that I came out of my mother's cootch ripped and huge but I never fuckin' lie. And how pissed would my dad've been about how I stretched the shit outta my mom's hole?  I can beat the piss outta that fucker now but it wasn't always like that or whatever.

You assholes may not know this, but Butch and I grew up together.  By the time we were 4, we were benchin' the shit outta the retarded kid across the street and that's pretty much how it all started.  When we weren't embarrassin' the shit outta the other kids at school with our mad sports skills, we were makin' up new exercises to get ripped...and some of those exercises meant we were beatin' the piss outta anybody who looked us in the eyes.  Beatin' assholes to a pulp is awesome exercise, by the way, as long as you finish the job right.

This prick isn't gonna get the beating he probably deserves cause those losers aren't even close to ripped...dude.

When Butch was 10, he told his dad that he would rip his fuckin' head off if he didn't buy him a set of weights so we got those weights and started pumpin' iron like stupid.

So, why am I tellin' you douchebags all this shit?  I'm tellin' it to you cause there are way too many pussies in the world (like my nephews and shit) and if you make the bad choice to have a kid, you gotta at least start that fucker on weights almost outta the snatch so you don't end up with wimpy twerps runnin' around the house squealin' about pokeyman or whatever.

Don't let this shit happen to your kid. And if it does, kill yourself pronto.

At first, they'll bawl like sissies when you make 'em lift heavy shit like a million times but they'll thank you for it cause they'll be ripped and bangin' chicks twice their age when they're 10, like Butch and I were.

Here are a couple of tips for how to keep from bringin' another batch of pussies into the world:

1. Forget mother's milk, dudes.  Use Muscle Milk from the get-go...it's the shit.

2. Never carry anything for 'em and if they don't have anything to carry, hand 'em at least a 35 lb. plate.

3. Make sure they know that swing sets are for pussies.  They should be workin' the shit outta the monkey bars as soon as they can walk.

4. If you've got two kids, make the bigger one do squats with the smaller one on his shoulders.

5. Push-ups, dudes...and throw the smaller one on the bigger one's back if it looks too easy.

That should get shit started.  Keep in mind that you're lookin' to hook the kid on bein' ripped as early as you can.  That's not that hard cause only a fuckin' idiot will tell you that bein' ripped and huge isn't awesome.  Once they realize how awesome they are, that shit will be like auto-pilot, dudes.

Keep pumpin', dudes.

Pete Writes Poetry Cause Poetry=Poon

The Rip House has a gaggle of bangable hotties runnin' around, but every now and then, one that makes my nuts feel like they're gonna explode shows up. We're talkin' "extreme hottie" here.

Ouch...just ouch.

When that happens, like it did yesterday, I know I gotta work shit a little different if I'm gonna get any action.  You can't just go struttin' up and throw out some tired line that works on your typical gym slut. 

Your run-of-the-mill gym slut...at your service, dudes.

You gotta be fuckin' creative and you gotta act like there's some sensitive side to you or whatever.  Butch tells me, and I believe him, that the easiest way to make a chick feel like you're not just lookin' to get into her pants is to write her an awesome poem...so you can get into her pants (sounds stupid, right?).

Chicks fuckin' love poems, especially ones that rhyme...cause if they don't rhyme, they'll figure you're some kinda emo faggot. 

Chicks aren't into bein' on suicide watch 24/7 or some shit so, dudes, your poetry's gotta be fuckin' up-beat, confident and awesome if you wanna score constantly like Butch and me.  If you can't write a poem, you can either stick to the merely 'bangable' chicks (who don't require poetry) or you can steal my poem (below).  I don't give a shit...just send me a video of the two of you doin' it and we'll call it even.

If you could edit your schlong out, I'd appreciate it.

Chicks wanna think you're into more than their tits, asses and snatches so you gotta lie your ass off, like when you tell a cop you only had a couple of beers.  You also gotta at least mention how hot you think they are, though, cause if you don't at least hint at it, they'll know you're full of shit.

I've used this poem at least a dozen times and it's got a 100 percent success rate, dudes.  Happy bangin'!

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Awesome Queen
by Pete Puma
for [insert name here]

I saw you at the Rip House
squatin' like an awesome queen.
You can bench more than just the bar
and that's fuckin' cool, I mean.

Your spandex shorts are kickin'
I see camel toe when you sit.
I could spot your dumbbell benches,
but I'll be starin' at your tits.

I even went to spin class
with a bunch of real gay dudes
but was starin' at your awesome glutes.
Now I'm really in the mood.

Oh, and I'm sure you're smart as shit
like if Einstein was a chick
cause you count your reps real easy
like thinkin' doesn't make you sick.

Your face is super-pretty too.
Don't wanna forget to tell you that.
But it's hard to get past the body
when it's so smokin' hot, true dat.

I think we should get naked
after dinner, maybe a show.
If you don't bang on first dates,
think I could get at least a blow?
----------------------

Keep pumpin', dudes.

Thanksgiving For Shit

I don't think about shit too deep.  So when Thanksgiving rolls around, I hardly ever think about giving thanks for shit.  I pretty much just think about eatin' shitloads of turkey.  To be honest, I hardly think at all except about bein' ripped, gettin' more ripped and bangin' hotties.  But I was watchin' some fuckin' show on the Discovery Channel about turkeys and how they grow 'em and shit and I thought, I'm gonna give thanks for the fact that I'm not a fuckin' turkey.

Those poor bastards get yanked from their mothers before they're even hatched and then, pretty much as soon as they're hatched, the guy turkeys get yanked out of there and never see a bitch turkey again unless they happen to be in the fuckin' oven with one at the end of the line and I'm guessin' it's hard to see when you don't have a fuckin' head and somebody stuck your neck up your ass.

I'd tag that. I wouldn't tell all my buds about it but I would. Then I'd eat that fuckin' turkey, dude, and do a little bodybuilder posing shit after it.

So how much does that suck for the dude turkeys?  I mean, sure, they don't have to listen to the bitching and whining about shit all day long that we human dudes do but they also die unbanged unless they give it up the butt or whatever gay turkeys do.  You gotta think oral is pretty bad from a turkey, right?

That shit wouldn't get within a mile of my junk, dude.

So how do they make more turkeys if they're not allowed to bang?

Get this shit...They "extract" the jizz from the dudes and put it in these fuckin' test tubes (turkey jizz, btw, looks pretty much like people jizz, which made me say 'duuuuude' about five times to the TV).  Now, they didn't explain exactly how they do that shit but when I looked up "extract" on the internets, they said it means "to draw or pull out, often with great force or effort," which sounds fuckin' horrifying, right, dudes?  So, bein' a turkey blows pretty fuckin' bad cause even cummin' sounds like it sucks.

"Goodbye, my virgin turkey friend, I'll bet you'll be the most delicious bird in the fuckin' store. Sex is awesome, btw."

I had to stop watchin' that shit after that cause I didn't want to know any more.  Just the fact that I'm eatin' a virgin turkey on my club sandwich makes me wanna lay off that shit for a day or two...Dudes don't even get a chance to blow a load in a chick turkey and that's pretty fuckin' sad.

At least I know I'm not eatin' a turkey with VD or some shit...so that's somethin'.  

Turkeys taste fuckin' good though so it's not like I'm gonna picket or whatever in front of Bore's Head's factory.  I'm just not gonna think about that shit.

So, anyway, this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for the fact that I'm not a fuckin' turkey.  E-mail us or whatever and tell us what you're thankful for.  I bet it's bullshit and guaranteed we're gonna tell you what a pussy you are for bein' thankful and whatever...but you don't need to commit suicide over that shit.

Keep pumpin', dudes.