Why the Fuck Am I Still Talking About CrossFit?

ForgingEliteSarcasm.com: A Brief History

October 2010: Work fucking sucks today. Let’s make a CrossFit blog making fun of CrossFit blogs.
November 2010: No fucking way I make more than 10 posts.
January 2010: Fuck me, people are actually reading this horseshit.
February 2011: Hmm, this all runs deeper than I thought. I’ll never run out of material. What the fuck is wrong with these people?
April 2011: People want to know who I am? Seriously?
July/August 2011: The CrossFit Gods spoiled us with near drownings, softball throws, and an asshole overhead squatting with his baby strapped to his chest.
November 2011: It fucking saddens me that I’ll never run out of material.
January 2012: Fuck it.
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    Un-Elite Media: Kicking Fitness Lonnie’s Ass Edition

    Motherfuckers like talking shit. Seems like once or twice a week I got some attention-whoring, wannabe CrossFit Famous asshole trying to grandstand on my Facebook page. What these fucking simpletons don’t realize is: I geniunely don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. If you don’t like what I write, stop pussy-aching to me and build your own goddamn platform.

    Case in point: this bitch. Fitness Lonnie.

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      Talking Race Because No One Else Wants To

      I’d like to introduce a good friend of mine, Elisabeth Akinwale. Yes, assholes, I have friends. A few, anyway. Elisabeth is a former D1 gymnast, placed 13th in the 2011 CrossFit Games and recently competed at the 2011 American Open Championships. A year ago at this time, she had never lifted a barbell over her head. And oh yeah, she’s black.

      Here’s what we’ve been messaging about while we pretend to work our day jobs:

      Drywall: So when the fuck are you going to blog about race? You said that was happening back when you wrote that post about dicks. I realized I get easy material if I take your posts and make them way more profane, like when I took your post about crazy bitches and I mocked the fuck out of them. Besides, I’m a white dude, I can bust on the CrossFit Games for identifying the fittest white person with disposable income on Earth; aside from that I really don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. And how the hell did you qualify for the American Open after three months of training? Are you people naturally good at exercise? By “you people” I mean gymnasts. That’s a joke. I mean black people.

      EAkinwale: That’s the cool part, I don’t work for anything. Being black it’s a 50/50 thing. You’re either morbidly obese and diabetic or you’re a fucking thoroughbred.

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        Reebok CrossFit Holiday Sale!

        With only 15 shopping days until Christmas, we at the Reebok CrossFit store want to know: what the fuck? Why aren’t you buying our shit? What do you have against our shitty $110 stretchy pants or $135 track jackets?

        No matter. We’ll find another way to make money off you hapless shitheads. Otherwise we’re not getting our cut of the $1000 T shirt money holiday bonuses. So against our better judgement, we decided to talk to some of our customers to find out what you’d actually buy. Launching this week:

        The Reebok CrossFit Callus Shaver – No brainer really. Consumer demand for callus shavers increased 5000% once we invented the kipping pull up. That’s our money goddamn it. Revlon can suck our dicks.
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          About Your Female Body Issues…

          Ladies, there’s something that the non-bat shit crazy people in your life have been wanting to tell you: your fucking body issues are all in your goddamn heads. And the men in your life are sick of fucking hearing about them. Let me break it down.

          We know. You’re not skinny enough. Or you’re too tall. Or short. Your ass sags. Your complexion is off. You have a belly. Your tits aren’t big enough. Whatev. We don’t seriously care.

          You tend to bitch about what the media portrays as an ideal look and body type for women. Magazine covers, movies, TV, that kind of horseshit. What you don’t realize is that guys could give a fuck about any of it. We don’t let outside influences distort our view of hotness. We judge it the old fashioned way: we get wood. That’s it. Caveman shit.
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