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Audiophile - Just that damn good

Yeah you know the other day I'm sitting around going over all the numbers of the ho's in my little pink book (I couldn't find a black one). And then I think to myslef "Ok Audiophile, you should check your e-mail cuz you never know if Burt Reynolds will accept you for the part of Big Mak in Boogie Nights 2. And I have to be around to answer it right away or the position may be filled by someone not as tankish as me. So I went upstairs and rubbed my fucking manly lumps in baby oil and came back downstairs and checked my e-mail. Well the only thing I had in my mailbox was a request from Spitfire (He's the real Elian Gonzalez) to write him an article for his website. Would you believe he's begging me to maximize the quality of his website. So I'm wondering if I need to charge him a fee for my work, but being the nice buck I am I decide to breathe some new life into his website with this article about nothing particular other than my personal beastlike physical descriptions.

So as I'm thinking of how I'll give him the gift of god. I start to run my hand down the side of my arm. And as my hand violently jumps over the rock solid mounds of manly flesh, I'm thinking "Fuck talking about god, I might as well talk about myslef cuz that's the next best thing". But the next thing I think is "No, I don't want everyone thinking my fucking studlyness has gone to my head" because don't get me wrong, I'm just like the next guy, except fucking good looking and manly. So after a few hours of working out (working out helps me think) I'm thinking "What the hell, this article is for Spitfire's website, why the hell am I so worried, so I decided to talk about why my muscle is better than your flab.

Ok now lets start with the most important thing, all flabby people are pigs, if the people of the prokchop spent 1/3 of the time working out as they do packing down the swill at The Richmond Inn they might even be able to fix that problem they have with the fat growing in thier throat that makes them sound like a talking marshmallow. But on the other hand when you're as lean and I am, it can only be genetic. I mean I believe the whole problem is that Pops was more interested in the last Ice Cream Sandwich in the fridge than his horny wife looking for some action. Which reminds me of another thing about me that is so not you, I was in the Gym the other day and some porkball was waddling his wide ass around the corner to hop into the showers and I caught a glimpse of his turkey roll. Man you want to talk about an unloaded weapon... you should have seen it. So just to make the guy feel bad I whip out my Jamal and walk into the shower room. You should have seen the look on this guy's face. I thought he was going to cry, He got all embarassed and quickly turned off the shower with his sausage link hands and dragged his blubbery ass around the corner where he probably sat sucking his thumb and mumbling "I'll never eat another pork rhind again". YEAH right, tell me another bitch tits. That concludes my article, I'd write more but I have to go work out, besides I don't want to make Rappablords too good or I'll be expected to keep blessing Spitfire with content that is actually as good as I am.

Audiophile while doing modeling shoots out West