Random Bless: "Stray Runners"

Feel the Bless, Fux... And the grease.

     Howdy hobags, Hobags.  Adrian Grenny here for a long overdue Random Bless to bring to your eye-parts for eyesumption.  My Danny Devito sausage hands are literally dripping with grease from all the time I haven't laid them upon a sub-sect of fux in need of their random bless powers, but all that is about change.  This time the fux in question might need a full body bless rubdown, because once they get going (like a Kardashian special on E!) they can't be stopped from spreading their evil.  So don't be a fool-tard, jump on in here like an Asian ween at an all U can eat Harajuku Girl Buffet and see just who it is receiving my powers of bless this time...
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RANDOM BLESS... Sissy Man Runners.

Um... Scuze?  Where's that finger goin'

     The not-so-distant cousin to "Stray Voiced Doodz", "Stray Runners" are straight men who run like little girls/the biggest gaywad to come along since Hugh Jackman.  I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, I mean (unlike me) they actually run so ten points to them for that, but it's really a letdown when some big bearded muscle dude who's like 6ft 4 approaches a treadmill and makes you think, "Damn, boo got it goin' on", only to find that once he starts running his hands turn to T-Rex arms and his ass has more shake than dairy Queen.  It's like seeing a huge cake right in front of you that you can't stop staring at, then when you take a bite you realize it's sugar free (disappointment Shambles to the max).

Gurl, one step offa' that bench and we'll know who U really is.

     Random Bless on these doods I say, because they're just out there false advertizing.  Sure it's probably not their fault they run like a 14 year old girl who's just seen a spider and/or rape-dick, but it IS their fault for looking like Chuck Norris on the outside, when they know on the inside (at least when they run) a Lady Gaga song is playing at full blast.  

Oh God, it's coming!  No wait, that's me.

     It's not right, but in a way it is a blessing in a random-bless-needing-disguise.  That last part is true because the sissy man "Stray Runner" can from time to time do the impossible: make me feel better about myself.  Sure they make me hate my life because they're all manly, but the fact that they run like a lady makes me feel just that much better that (if memory serves me) I don't. 

     So while you're out at da club mackin' on hot chix and/or doodz and showing them your muscles and shit, I know the truth: once those well chiseled legs get past a slow walking pace, the Ru Paul within' you comes out... and that makes me feel just a little bit better about eating that 3rd pizza for breakfast.

Hey Y'all!  Just stop trying, David Beckham.  I know it's U.

     So I lay mine random bless hands of bless on your manly shoulders, Stray Runners, and say keep doing what you're doing with your invisible tiara covered heads held high... for as long as you keep running like a big breasted chick from a killer in a scary movie, I'll keep eating Fritos and watching you from my perch with both "I wanna bone you" and "I wanna bless you" thoughts.   

     Last thing; Don't hate the messenger here, folks... This is just how the universe works, no one is 100% perfect (except Sam Jaeger, Noel Kahn, and Coach Taylor), we've all got flaws... yours, like mine, just happen to manifest themselves on the outside.  Which to my carb-induced mind, basically means that the only difference between my 300lbs of lard, and your 0% body fat is that I don't have to run or exert any effort to get made fun of.  Think about that the next time you're at the gym, and I'll do the same the next time (right now) I'm eating something bigger than my face.  

Random Bless Ya' Later,
        Adrien Grenadine