So I went to see my doctor, Dr. Dominic Domenico, and he says to me, “DW,” he says, “you been livin’ large for too long and ya gotta start takin’ better care a yourself. Start exercisin’ an cut out some a the Salumi you been packin’ away like it’s goin’ outta style.” He actually talks like that. Hand to God.

So I says, “Doc,” I says, “I ain’t never seen the insides a no gym unless I was tellin’ some mug he hadda take a dive on account a the dough we was layin’ off on the other guy.” And he tells me he don’t care about none a that shit and that I gotta join a gym or else I ain’t gonna live to see too many more a the Our Lady a Mount Carmel summer festivals, if you know what I mean.

Anyways, I gotta admit I’d been eatin’ way too much Pasta Fagioli and Sbriciolona and Lardo, and Annette an I have been hittin’ the Martinis and Averna kinda hard. And I gotta says my Oleg Cassini European Cut slacks don’t fit me like they’s meant to in all the vital areas, if you catch my drift.

So I head on over to the local gym and a course I get this big muscleheaded Mama Luke half-a-Finnoch, tough guy wanna be j’drool who has a hand shake grip like one a them Nancy boys you’d find prancin’ around the Village wearin’ a mesh sleeveless shirt and blue jeans that are so tight they show the balls, and he comes on strong with the heavy sales pitch. Befores he can get rollin’ I says, “Hey Mack, save the schpeil for someone who gives a Fucc, I’mst here to join up.” So that was that.

Now none a the guys was ever the type to go for any a that exercisin’ shenanigans. Oh sure, Sinatra and I would go for a schvitz ‘specially when we had a dame or two along to top us off whilst we was sweatin’, but believe you me you’d never catch us doin’ no push-ups or sit-ups. You’d have a better chance a catchin’ us listenin’ to Jerry Vale 8-track tapes than you would seein’ us doin’ that shit. Jerry Vale, I says.

So I walk inta this big friggin’ room wit nothin’ but threadmills, those staircase machines, and some other contraptions that reminded me a some a those industrial type machines we used to stuff uncooperative types, deadbeats and other elements who was undesirable to the Family into. Usin’ all a these machines there’s a ton of fat dames and a bunch a paunchy gray-skinned pischocs sweatin’ and puffin’ an lookin’ miserable cuz for all a their work they ain’t goin’ nowheres. Pischocs, I says.

And I’m thinkin’ to myself, if this exercise racket is so jake why is all a these out a shape people in here? There weren’t a one of ‘em who looked like they coulda punched their way outta a Cannoli shell. Madon!

Then there’s the friggin’ music they’s playin’ that was poundin’ so loud I felt like I was at one a them titty bars I used to run back in the day when the 5 Families ran all a the titty bar businesses in the Tri-State region. And on top a all a that noise, they got all a these TVs with everything on them from The Sports Center to Kelly and Michael. I tells ya I had a headache worser than I did than when I went to my Step Grand Niece Carlotta’s Chorus Concert and Dance Recital.

So I made me a bee-line right to the office a that cheese eatin’, pumped up pussy hump with the over gelled hair and Finnochy hand shake and tole him I wanted my fuckin money back, pronto. And he gave me all a that, ‘we don’t give refunds and I gotta talk to my manager,” and whatnot. I said “Look pal, I only been here 6 minutes and if I don’t get my money back now, I’m gonna call my friend Skinny D’Amato and he’ll get it back for me, from you. Speakin’ a Skinny, why don’t you look him up on your computer.”

Before you can say, “The Google,” I had my refund. As far as exercise goes, I’ll walk around the friggin’ block whilst laying off a the Soppresate, and the like.

Why are we here?

Because.

Sexy Pear. Son.

Window Dressing Pear.

Yoga Pear Pair.

Bass Pear.

Beached Pear.

Science Pear.

I cannot imagine what is on this guy’s phone to distract him from the spectacle around him…unless it’s Friday Thoughts And Links!

DarkSock here, getting ready for mammarial day, lounging on the Biloxi beach, chillin’, partying with old friends and generally horsing around.

Speaking of horses…this is what happens when you misspell “bridal” with “bridle”…

In the heat of the summer sometimes the ladies like it when you get a little kinky and whisper sweet things into their ear. Sometimes it’s the little things. Sometimes they just want to catch a good buzz. Or so they say.

Breaking news – This just in…Convicted choke-worthy ass clown behind “Girls Gone Wild” still an insufferable douche nozzle. Dude, we can see you’re full of crap, like a glass toilet.

But enough silly links. You are here for the Glory.

For the Noteworthy Pear:

Super Mario Pear.

Bicycle Training Pear.

Pretty Maidens All In A Row Pear(s).

I can haz sandwich? Pear.

And stay tuned for late night pear.

Son.

Todd found out he was
Silicone Intolerant
When the seizure struck.

Don’t you worry, Todd
I have just the paddle to
Get through those mountains.

– The Dude

Someone pissed in the
Goose, Bobby Bottleservice
Took a big ol’ swig

– Capt. James T. Douche

Trish moved to LA
with starlet dreams. Now: Vegas
Selling Goose. Damn Shame.

– HCwDBnyc

Party scene, nightlife
Detritus of the human
Condition. With booze

– DoucheyWallnuts

She likes the hipsters
Since the gyroscope was put
In her Monkey Hole.

– The Reverend Chad Kroeger

The coat he’s wearing
matches the one on his tongue:
both “Members Only.”

– Wheezer

…Or it gets The Hose.

The Southern Comfort Hose.

Discuss.

…from which he’ll awake in a bath tub of pinkish ice with a 12 inch scar and a hand-written note.

There is an interesting back-story to this photo, I’m sure.

I defer to you, the reader, to expand upon it in the comments section.

These ladies have a nice big can.

For other ladies also with big cans let us now travel to Italy:

Piazza De Italia Pear

Studio Oh-Pear

Salty Meat-A-Ball Pear

Flag Burn.

“Because life is but a guilded cage for our souls trapped in this temporal journey called Earth. And our flesh? It is but the paper of the soul upon which we inscribe our journey, no? We are the paper lining the birdcage of the soul…admire us if you DARE.”