Hemingway opened the door to the Black Hawk chopper over the war torn, ashen fields of Ngun-Ngyun'hai. The Delta Nightwing team had been on this top secret covert ops mission for 8 months now, most citizens of the Clinton-era America not even knowing that this small province outside of Laos existed. The young crackshot had been struggling to balance the mediocrity of high school and the thrill of mercenary combat for some time now, but it was the words of Ernest Hemingway - the author he got his codename from - that finally made him realize his true calling, "There is no hunting like the hunting of armed men." He was ready, Hemingway armed himself with his silenced HK .45 and his silenced G3 and drew his black and red KABAR knife and prepared to jump. His top demolitions-merc companion Dynamite realized what he was about to do and tried to dive over to him and grab him, though Hemingway had already taken the plunge into the night. "Did he have a chute?" asked a preoccupied soldier, "No, he doesn't need one." replied Dynamite.
The thrill of speed overcame Hemingway's fear of death, anti-AA rounds cracked and went "whoop" from the sonic boom by his camouflaged bald head as he lurched through the sky like a bird of prey, he raised his knife just in time and descended directly onto a haji's back, killing him instantly and breaking Hemingway's fall. The impact had left had left a warm splash of blood not unlike a Rorshach symbol upon his face.. his tongue lapped the dripping blood greedily, mercenary work was in the heart of the young warrior, this was what he wanted
I'd hate to be a guest or get invited to your house/apartment because that looks annoying/uncomfortable as fuck. Where is your couch? Your whole living space/dining area is covered with gym equipment. I'm assuming you don't have anyone over or don't have any need for a couch.
people who are so into fitness that every square inch of their apartment is covered in exercise shit don't have friends or a gf
I would do a home gym iff I had a dedicated room for it so people didn't have to awkwardly walk around all my shit
squat rack, deadlfit bar, trap bar, iron plates, bumpers, landmine attachments, chains, bands etc. now they're selling the house and i'll be moving to some tiny apartment and i highly doubt i can accommodate the gym. it's OVER.
How do you drop anything without the wooden floor breaking?
If you have to drop something, then you have a skill issue
> skill issue
I lift on tile, just don't drop shit.
it's supposed to be a home gym, not gym home, retard
t. casual
Post body
Come at me twink
Wayne Lambright lookin ass
>That's our boy Hemingway
Hemingway opened the door to the Black Hawk chopper over the war torn, ashen fields of Ngun-Ngyun'hai. The Delta Nightwing team had been on this top secret covert ops mission for 8 months now, most citizens of the Clinton-era America not even knowing that this small province outside of Laos existed. The young crackshot had been struggling to balance the mediocrity of high school and the thrill of mercenary combat for some time now, but it was the words of Ernest Hemingway - the author he got his codename from - that finally made him realize his true calling, "There is no hunting like the hunting of armed men." He was ready, Hemingway armed himself with his silenced HK .45 and his silenced G3 and drew his black and red KABAR knife and prepared to jump. His top demolitions-merc companion Dynamite realized what he was about to do and tried to dive over to him and grab him, though Hemingway had already taken the plunge into the night. "Did he have a chute?" asked a preoccupied soldier, "No, he doesn't need one." replied Dynamite.
The thrill of speed overcame Hemingway's fear of death, anti-AA rounds cracked and went "whoop" from the sonic boom by his camouflaged bald head as he lurched through the sky like a bird of prey, he raised his knife just in time and descended directly onto a haji's back, killing him instantly and breaking Hemingway's fall. The impact had left had left a warm splash of blood not unlike a Rorshach symbol upon his face.. his tongue lapped the dripping blood greedily, mercenary work was in the heart of the young warrior, this was what he wanted
This bros got dish soap in his bathroom kek
>inner city apartment
>1 bd 1 ba apartment
>1 sink
>$2400 + tip please
U turn fag
What the actual fuck?
It curves. What are you, stupid?
Flatearthers btfo
>lifting in the kitchen
I bet you time your workouts with the cooking, you gays.
It's a gym home when your gym takes up more space than the other rooms, retard. It's a gym that's also a home, not the other way around
why did you get a ghd and reverse hyper?
don't they target the same muscles?
this is Jason Blaha's home, famous professional retard
All that rogue equipment is worth more than this guy's apartment.
die Jason
Hi grandma thanks for visiting my new home
Yes please have a seat here on my flat bench. I don't want you adjusting my inclined bench again.
>All that shit just thrown about everywhere
I'd hate to be a guest or get invited to your house/apartment because that looks annoying/uncomfortable as fuck. Where is your couch? Your whole living space/dining area is covered with gym equipment. I'm assuming you don't have anyone over or don't have any need for a couch.
people who are so into fitness that every square inch of their apartment is covered in exercise shit don't have friends or a gf
I would do a home gym iff I had a dedicated room for it so people didn't have to awkwardly walk around all my shit
https://www.har.com/homedetail/3401-timmons-ln-1-houston-tx-77027/3432149
factoid
spent years amassing a gym in my parents garage
squat rack, deadlfit bar, trap bar, iron plates, bumpers, landmine attachments, chains, bands etc. now they're selling the house and i'll be moving to some tiny apartment and i highly doubt i can accommodate the gym. it's OVER.