Serving as extra motivation is being able to go to the gym a few times a week and stare at what has to be The. Best. Ass. I’ve ever seen. We’re not going to call him Gym Boy anymore. That nickname does not do him justice. We’re going to call him Guy Whose Face I Want To Sit On For Hours because, damn. So, I’m on the treadmill the other day, doing my thing, when I see him in front of me with a bar bell on his lap. Slowly he thrusts his hips upwards. Up and down. Up and down.