"No, dude," said the over-toned jarheadded meatwad behind the counter of the "smoothie bar" at World Gym in Peachtree City, "You don't want that."

"Uh, yeah I do," I replied, sharing with him the fact that I did, in fact, want that. I wanted it so much, in fact, that I asked for it.

"No you don't, bro," he replied with a slightly Californian accent and a slightly Alabaman smirk. "You look like you want to CUT weight, right?" Which I guess is the left-handed way of saying "Hey, Fatty McFatfuck, listen to my advice."

"Right, sure," I replied. "That's why I want to get a Colossus smoothie, so I can get enough protein--"

"Dude, bro, the Colossus is, like, 800 calories," He said. He then pointed to the cooler behind me and said "You want the Isopure over there. 120 cal, 45 grams of protein. Pure food in a bottle, bro." He then grinned his Alabaman grin once again.

"Yeah, well," I tried to say, "I usually get the Whey protein instead of the Cytogain, and that makes the Colossus only 400 calories... This is part of my dinner..."

"Dude, yo," he said with a bit of a sway, "I'm telling you, bro, you totally want that Isopure. Trust me."

I thought about it for a moment. I'm certain that the drink I've asked for is what I need and want... Peanut butter, protein, some glutamine and creatine... And that delicious taste! Buuuuuuuttttt... This guy is a professional, I suppose... Maybe I should listen to him...

"Alright," I said, "I'll try the Isopure."

"Bro -- Totally the right decision," He said as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Does it have the Creatine and Glutamine I'm looking for?"

"Dude... You just want to try it. Trust me, your workouts will take a turn for the better and you'll start seeing the weight just POUR off of you."

He said that. He said the word "pour" in relation to the weight that I was supposedly going to start watching just hop right off me - which is precisely why I think this motherfucking dipshit knew that the Isopure drink was about to make me the sickest I've ever been, ever ever.

I grabbed an Isopure, I drank it down, and I walked into the locker room to grab my bag. I began walking out of the gym when I started feeling just a tad bit... Altered. In the gastrointensinal area.

As soon as I hopped into my truck, I knew there was going to be trouble. I felt the gurgling and the knotting and the bubbling and the churning as I left the parking lot. I contemplated stopping and running back in to hit the toilet, but I figured "I can make it."

And I did... but only barely.

I spent an agonizing 20 minutes in the car, passing gas station after grocery store after fast food place, each one with signs that offered some sort of price on some sort of item but all of them bringing with them the familiar feeling that THEY ALL HAD A PUBLIC RESTROOM THAT I REALLY REALLY REALLY SHOULD HAVE STOPPED AT.

But I didn't. I trucked on home - and as soon as I got there, I ran to the restroom and proceeded to pass an alien baby through my colon.

Simple lesson:

Fuck Isopure and fuck the meathead mongoloid at the World Gym in Peachtree City, GA.