KISS-warmup- lots of stretches, including a BBQ new one, a reverse Al Gore Thorogoods.
The Thang: 11’s (Burpees and copperhead squats, lunge walk 5 parking stripes, then reverse lunge walk 5 parking stripes, run the rest of the parking garage.) Then Star Jump every 5th parking stripe on the way back.
Wife pleasers at the end.
COT- Akbar has a St. Patrick themed beatdown tomorrow. Come on out and support him.
SYITG
Tag: BBQ
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The Ides of March – from BBQ
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Stripes: Razzle Dazzle! – from Jose10k
Cut it out! Cut it out! Cut it out! The hell’s the matter with you? Stupid! We’re all very different people. We’re not Watusi. We’re not Spartans. We’re Americans, with a capital ‘A’, huh? You know what that means? Do ya? That means that our forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world. We are the wretched refuse. We’re the underdog. We’re mutts! Here’s proof: his nose is cold! But there’s no animal that’s more faithful, that’s more loyal, more loveable than the mutt. Who saw “Old Yeller?” Who cried when Old Yeller got shot at the end?
Nobody cried when Old Yeller got shot? I’m sure.
I cried my eyes out. So we’re all dogfaces, we’re all very, very different, but there is one thing that we all have in common: we were all stupid enough to enlist in the Army. We’re mutants. There’s something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us – we’re soldiers. But we’re American soldiers! We’ve been kicking ass for 200 years! We’re ten and one! Now we don’t have to worry about whether or not we practiced. We don’t have to worry about whether Captain Stillman wants to have us hung. All we have to do is to be the great American fighting soldier that is inside each one of us. Now do what I do, and say what I say. And make me proud.Psycho: The name’s Francis Soyer, but everybody calls me Psycho. Any of you guys call me Francis, and I’ll kill you.
Leon: Ooooooh.
Psycho: You just made the list, buddy. And I don’t like nobody touching my stuff. So just keep your meat-hooks off. If I catch any of you guys in my stuff, I’ll kill you. Also, I don’t like nobody touching me. Now, any of you homos touch me, and I’ll kill you.
Sergeant Hulka: Lighten up, Francis.Recruiter: Now, are either of you homosexuals?
John Winger: [John and Russell look at each other] You mean, like, flaming, or…
Recruiter: Well, it’s a standard question we have to ask.
Russell Ziskey: No, we’re not homosexual, but we are *willing to learn*.
John Winger: Yeah, would they send us someplace special?
Recruiter: I guess that’s “no” on both. Now if you could just give Uncle Sam your autograph…John Winger: Why’d the chicken cross the road?
Soldiers: To get from the left to the right
John Winger: He stepped out of rank, got hit by a tank
Soldiers: He ain’t no chicken no moreI am hoping with the title that you started remembering how great that movie was, and how it could not be made today. Oh well, it was the theme to the workout this morning. So we had a warm-up, picture us singing
There she was just a-walkin’ down the street, singin’
‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’
Snappin’ her fingers and shufflin’ her feet, singin’
‘Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do’
She looked good (Looked good)
She looked fine (Looked fine)
She looked good, she looked fine
And I nearly lost my mindOkay, to the actually workout. The stripes on the parking garage: 1merkin, skip a stripe, 2 merkings, and so on. On the way back, 1 squat, skip, 4 squats, skip, 8 squats, and so on. Back again, lunges. 2 is 1: 1 skip a stripe, 2, skip a stripe, 4, then 6, and so on. Finished up with 2 minutes of stretching. COT, prayers for my coworkers husband in ICU, Hammer and his home purchase and future house being sold, and good will to all that need it. SOGO has the Q tomorrow, turkey trot next thursday. SYITG, thanks for letting me lead this amazing group of young men.
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We lost a Moby, BBQ is NOT a Swifty, and Steve still can’t write a backblast – from Jose10k
Happy National Beer Day gentlemen. It was a foggy, smokey morning at the A1C. Discussions were plenty during the warm-ups. So much so, there wasn’t even a cadence. And after grass grabbers, there wasn’t a Moby anymore either. He tweaked something in his back. But the beatdown had to continue. After the warm-ups, where we learned that BBQ is not a Swifty, even though he is a huge Chiefs fan, we moseyed to the Rock Garden, aka Stonehenge, aka BedRock, aka the butterfly sanctuary for some rock work. 7 exercises, 10 reps each: shoulder presses, curls, rows, squats, lunges, chess presses, and big boy sit ups. Rotate to the right and repeat. YHC was worried about Moby, so we moseyed back up to the top to see him stretching out that back. So we did some 4 corners. 5 burpees at each, and lt. Dan the length of the parking garage, 2 lunges, 1 squat, 4 lunges, 2 squats, and so on. Finished up with 5 minutes of Mary. BBQ prayed us out, remember about the spooky monster mash tomorrow gentlemen. See Steve, that’s what a backblast looks like.