1985, my foot! This is 1979. Here I am, disco dude, more like disco dud. Sunken chest, and skinny guys belly--still thought I had it going on. For God's sake Hermie, do something about that pathetic patch of chest hair, either get rid of it or go whole hog and get an Austin Powers Chest toupee (and maybe some chains?). Ahh, such a virtuous young man, 19 and still a virgin, although not by choice. I lost my virginity a few months later to a mean, ugly, fat chick. She asked me to take her to the movies on Superbowl night, when I relented, she said "Look, I'm seeing 7 guys right now and you're number 7 on the list, so don't push your luck." Needless to say, I missed the superbowl that night, and to make matters worse, the movie stunk and I didn't get any.

I am no Grinch. Here is my Christmas present to all of you. From all of me (...And believe me when I tell you, there is a LOT) to all of you. Freshly rolled out of bed as yet to open up my Christmas presents. You can see a mere 5 of the many, many awards I have won for internationally outstanding creative, just over to the left of my right hand. Yes, I could look like Quasimodo and STILL have it going on...And a happy Jew year.

1985, my foot! This is 1979. Here I am, disco dude, more like disco dud. Sunken chest, and skinny guys belly--still thought I had it going on. For God's sake Hermie, do something about that pathetic patch of chest hair, either get rid of it or go whole hog and get an Austin Powers Chest toupee (and maybe some chains?). Ahh, such a virtuous young man, 19 and still a virgin, although not by choice. I lost my virginity a few months later to a mean, ugly, fat chick. She asked me to take her to the movies on Superbowl night, when I relented, she said "Look, I'm seeing 7 guys right now and you're number 7 on the list, so don't push your luck." Needless to say, I missed the superbowl that night, and to make matters worse, the movie stunk and I didn't get any.

This was taken 1984 (NOT 1985) when i was 22 years old. Bodybuilding.com won't let you submit a date over 25 years old--which this shot is. I wasn't much to look at back then. Skinny little twerp. I weighed about 143 pounds.

12 years ago I thought this was a kickin' body. I guess my standards weren't that high back then. Not chopped liver, but nothing to write home about. I weighed about 166 pounds.

Same Hotel two years later, a little more meat on dem' bones. 176 0r 177 lbs. I'm straining to bulge my arms, I'm straining to bulge my legs. I'm trying my hardest to smile. "Too bad you can't get a bigger bulge in the ol' swimsuit" comments my wife as she snaps the picture. Dang, there goes the smile.

I came across this shot on my desktop recently. I can't place the exact date of it. But I want to show you folks that I'm not a "Hermy come lately"; that for most of my 30's and early 40's I was a strong, strapping, brawling guy (Two concussions and three broken nose to show for my troubles). It's not like I starting lifting during my transformation in 2008. I had been lifting on and off my whole life. I had a nice bottle and a half of wine buzz going when this picture was taken. I had just come back from the gym and was psyched that I had was finally able to do 10 reps with good form with two wheels on each side (225). Yeah, I worked out even when I drank. My diet was spot on, too. Drinking was my only foible. No drugs, not even weed. AND I was able to outwork all my peers in advertising. I thought it was way cool that I could be a total alkie and still be buff and successful. Looking back, I STILL think it was cool. But there comes a time when enough is enough. I like being clearheaded 24/7 and I'm not going to accomplish what I need to accomplish in the next couple of years by being drunk all the time. This picture could be older than the date listed. I yoyo'd up and down with my weight and level of fitness a lot.

Here I am on Vacation at The Ocean Club on Paradise Island at age 44. After this. I let myself go for three years and wound up in the state you see me in in my "before" pictures. The photo on the lower left is actually me one week AFTER I came back from vacation. Eating and drinking whatever I wanted for one week somehow got my abs more defined.

Here I am ten days after my transformation. I'm actually more cut than the transformation photo and (wow!) not slathered with all that disgusting oil. Didn't like the way my face looked, neck too skinny, not enough traps. I decided that I'm going to put on a lot of wieght and do this thing again. This time when I get this cut up I'll be closer to where I want to be. Let the weight gain begin!

I'm now 186, one pound less than the heaviest I've ever weighed. I'm looking to hit 200 pounds by March 15th when I begin my cutting cycle. This is the first picture of me with my new nose.

Well, now I know. You see, a while back I was wondering why I'd get lots and lots of spots and excessively friendly behavior from big, burly, hairy guys in the gym whenever I wore this sweat shirt. So I went to Google and typed in: Urban Dictionary Bears. As I said before, now I know. Hmmmm, I wonder what would happen if I wore A Green Bay Packer sweatshirt?

I am 188 pounds. The most I've ever weighed. Getting ready to kiss my buddy, mister definition good bye in order to hit 200 pounds by march 15th.

Eating, eating, eating. Lifting, lifting, lifting. Not doing a drop of cardio and slowly watching my muscle definition sink into the sunset. Aloha. To make matters worse, I dropped a pound. Bummer. I'm only 187 pounds. My facial expression says it all. I'm completely exasperated and not thrilled to be standing in front of the computer to snap this shot; but shoot it I did. I'd rather shoot myself at this point.

194! Let me spell that out and linger over the beauty of it. One hundred and ninety four pounds. Hmmmm, has a nice ring to it, I rather like it. Granted, I weighed myself in sweats and sneakers, but still, I DID take off my ipod, headphones and baseball cap--that stuff weighs a lot--believe you me. Definition schmefinition. Straight ahead to 200 pounds. You need to build a wall before you can paint it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to choke down yet another horrendous mega-calorie meal. My unbounded respect and admiration for Youtube's Chris AKA "The Fat man" (see my video post: "a little exercise") continues to grow; yes, folks, hopefully so will I.

Bigger! Stronger! (Fatter*groan*) :(

Okay, let's get a little perspective here. The photo in my avatar was taken two months ago (left) the photo on the right is me this morning. From 178 pounds to 194 in two months. Got to put my vanity aside so I have more granite to skulpt for my next cutting cycle beginning March 15th. Well, at least I can take solace in the fact the my new nose looks a lot better than my old nose.

Could it be? Yes, it is! Oy vey! It's Hermbo! The Jewish Rambo. And a clean-shaven face (such a mench!) Who knew?

I wanted a body like a God and now I HAVE one; but holey moley, I didn't mean Buddha! Still, I'm going to continue to gain weight until March 15th and then spend the next nine weeks cutting up. You've seen what I can do with 7 weeks, so Katie-bar-the-door if you give this crazed son-of-a-gun nine weeks. (Actually, Katie bar the refrigerator door) Nevertheless, this Buddha thing may have it's upside, I feel some ancient Asian words of wisdom starting to well deep within in my inner consciousness. Oh baby, I can feel it. Here goes: "Confucius say, man who farts in church, sits in own pew." Wow, that's profound. Stay tuned for more, folks. By the way, is it just me, or does that medicine ball I'm holding look absolutely delicious? The best part of all is with my body looking like this, I can now do the exercise in the video I posted called "a little exercise". That video is like totally required viewing, dude.

I had to do it, I couldn't let that Buddha shot be my last post. Threw off my PJ's and began getting dressed for the gym and shot this a few minutes later. Granted, I was poking out my gut in the last photo, but there can be no denying that I am, in fact, a fat bastard. My reasoning is that if the ancient Jews could wander around the desert for 40 years, then this Jew can waddle around Manhattan for the next 6 or 7 weeks. When I gaze into my crystal (matzah) ball, to forsee how I'm going to look this spring, it keeps me going. Granted, I may be close to looking like Buddha now, but mark my words, by late May I will have transformed myself into (sound of trumpets) Irving Sexbaum! The Jewish God of love. Bodybuilding.com, you are officially on notice.

A lot of guys on this site never show their legs. So here are mine. Did you know that people stop me on the street to tell me that I have great legs? Actually, that's an exaggeration. Homeless guys stop me on the street to ask me for spare change. But it's sort of the same thing, no?

Sunday morning. My facial expression says it all: "See, if I suck in my gut and flex what's left of my abs, I'm not such a Buddha, am I?". The extra weight I put on is starting to settle in a bit IMHO. I'm still Jabba the Hut (Jew-ba the Hut?), but I'm not doing any dieting or cardio until march 1st, and if anyone has a problem with that they can kiss my fat, jiggly, ever-expanding ass (Nah, I still got a nice can--my best body part).

It's Tuesday Feb 10th. Just finished a chest workout. Now I know why they call it Fat Tuesday. This gaining weight business is not for the faint of heart. Luckily, it's nice and dark in here so no one can see me. Oh, my kitten can see me. Cats can see in the dark. In fact, she's looking at my supreme fatness right now. Whoops, she just threw up a hair ball. Everyone's a critic these days.

This is me right before a grueling biceps workout getting into the right frame of mind with my patented "Deer in the headlights" expression.

Here I sit, Psyching myself up for another workout: Seated Herm: Lemme' alone, I don't feel like working out today. Herm Two: Herm, don't be a worm! You're going to work out today! Herm Three: And you know WHY you're gonna' work out today? Because you're the Chief! Herm Four: And you know why they call you "The Chief"? Seated Herm: I dunno', because when I was a kid my mom used to say "Stop running around the house like a wild Indian"? Herm Two: No! Seated Herm: Because I dig Indian food? Herm Three: No! Because you are the Chief! The big guy! Come on, go on the warpath and hit those legs, Hiyo f--king Silver, buddy. Seated Herm: But that was The Lone Ranger, not Tonto. Herm Three: Same difference! Now go, Kimosabe. Seated Herm: Okay, I'll go, but guys...? All Three: What!!! Seated Herm: Please don't be here when I get back, you're scaring the cat. All Three: It's Friday the 13th, you're supposed to be scared. Go!

Valentine's Day Card (Oh Herm, you're such a card!) In the great words of Popeye "I've had all I can stand and I can't stands no more!" I've been waiting far too long for my abs to get back where they belong (tm). I broke down and did some cardio yesterday for the first time in months. I'm going to ease into my cutting phase a little early. So basically, I'm about to embark on my pre-pre-cutting phase warm-up prior to my pre-cutting phase warm-up which will ultimately lead me to my actual cutting phase (to commence March 15th at 9:04 AM Eastern Standard Time). I can no longer wait to emerge as the TRUE me... Irving Sexbaum, the Jewish God of Love. Right now, I look a lot closer to his cousin, Murry Kvetchbaum, the Jewish God of Accountants.

. Separated at birth? Austin Powers' fat bastard and Bodybuilding.com's fat bastard? Proceeding with my warm-up to pre-cutting; But since I am "HermtheWorm" I guess it would be considered more of a "worm-up" to pre-cutting. Don't worry folks, "The Worm" will return! {Eeek! I hope my underarms don't get guys who dig French chicks all hot and bothered!} :-o

Leg workout today. I wear this shirt to get me in the right frame of mind--or in my case (case #457629) the right frame of out-of-his-effen-mind. As you can see, it was haircut day yesterday at the ol' asylum. Good. The longer hair tends to get a bit frizzy after the shock treatments. Not very becoming for a soon to be Jewish God of Love. This shirt is priceless. I wear this on flights that are less than full and NO ONE has ever sat next to me. I'm a big massive mega-muscle monster (say that three times fast), I need the extra room, right? Right. Do I need it? I sure do. Am I talking to myself? No. What makes you think I'm talking to myself?

...And on the seventh day, the Lord said, let there be definition... So? Well? Where the hell is it, Herm? Hold your horses, folks. This is my starting point for my cutting phase. Torso, legs and big jelly belly--with this gut, if the stripper thing doesn't work out, I can always become a belly dancer. Now, for the next 3 months, sit facing the screen and be prepared to see magic. Magic I tell ya'. Besides, at least I have the comfort of knowing that my bench press is up! My squats are up! My dead lifts are up! My wife quips: "Everything is up except what should be up."

It's on. I'm going to war. I am a nasty, cranky son-of-a-gun at the moment, and it's very likely that I will remain in this state until I hit my goals. Each and every one of them. The only reason that you can see my abs is that they are very, very pronounced (not bragging, it's just the way it is), but they are covered with more fat than they have ever been covered with in my life. I have a LOT of body fat to lose in the mid section. A lot. I'll say it again, I'm not a happy effen camper right now. Far from it. My thighs need to be bigger and they need more sweep. My hamstrings are abysmal and my lame excuse for calves are even worse. This will change. I know what I have to do and I'm going to do it. As it says on my signature, "Failure is not an option". I have a date with you guys (and gals) on May 15th and I intend to keep it. As it also says on my workout tape: "No excuses will be offered. None accepted". Okay, enough with the keyboard commando bullsh-t. It's on. Bring the f--king pain. BTW, yeah I weigh 200 lbs

Bad, bad bad. Fat, fat, fat. My diet is 100 percent spot on and I'm doing cardio. These things take time. Maybe I'm just too ADHD. No maybes about it. I'm very ADHD.

. How can I console myself while I'm trying to shed 5% bodyfat? I got it! When people ask me to describe my physique, I'll say "Not to brag or anything, but I have a body like a porn star." Yeah. Ron Jeremy, the original Jewish God of Love.

Oh goodness, I've really done it this time. Shady guy in the gym: I heard you're looking to get your awesome bod back really fast. Herm: Yes. And how! Shady guy: Shhhhh! (Looks over both shoulders) Why don't you try a bottle of this? *Shows me bottle* Herm: The Juice? No way! That sh-t is against the law. Besides, it's supposed to shrink your "package" and mine is small enough already, isn't that right, Ian? (turns to his bitch) Ian: I'll say! (Ian holds up his pinkie) Shady guy: No, you dummy! This isn't "The Juice", it's "The Jews" This stuff has been around for thousands of years. Herm: Do tell... Shady guy: This is what the Jews took before scampering between the freshly-parted Red Sea to get a leg up on the Egyptians. I'm serious, your workouts will go through the roof. Herm: I'm sold! Gimme' all you got. Herm goes home and reads label: Taking more than one or two tablets a night may result in severe side effects. Herm shrugs and does what he always does, overdo things. He takes the whole bottle. Well, folks, I went to the ol' computer to take a progress picture this morning and this is how I looked. I called my doctor and he referred me to the local rabbi who assured me this condition is only temporary provided I eat a lot of pork products and stay away from knishes. Still, when I get back to the old me, I might just keep the curly sideburns, I think they're kinda' cute.

Mission accomplished. I wanted to thicken my neck, traps and upper pecs and hit 200 pounds before before beginning my next transformation. A few asides. Yes, my friggen' abs wrote me a dear john letter and I can almost hear Tclary snickering about me even THINKING about being in contention for the world's best over 40 male butt. But speaking of butts, here's the big but... {I may be a combination of two Ben and Jerry's ice cream flavors right now (BTW I never eat sweets. Never. Ever.): Chubby Hubby and Chunky Monkey...} BUTT... I have tiny little hips underneath all this and a 28" waist. I'm doing 20 reps on the crunch machine in good form with the pin at the very bottom of the rack (...And then dropping the pin for another 20 and another--three of those, baby). I am just getting in shape to get into shape, for the zillionth goddamn' time, to begin March 15th. Definition will return to 100% of my body and Hardness will return to 99% of my body. I'm coming back, baby, all the way back. Pucker up and get ready to kiss my fine over 40--way over, closer to 50-- male ass...And no Ian, that does not include you.

Every day a little less faterer. This pose is called perp double handcuff.

My fat is ever so slowly starting melt down, a la the Wicked Witch of the West after being dosed in water. My new theme about my emerging body is a lyric from a song from 1969 by Spiral Starecase "More today than yesterday." Every morning I'm going to look in the mirror and sing (Oh God! No! Don't!) to my body: "I love you more today than yesterday, but darling, half as much as to-mor-ror-row." No doubt about it. I'm a cheeseball. Wait! No! He's not doing that too? Doing what? Making a Ben Stiller in Zoolander face, trying to accentuate his cheeckbones! What a cheeseball! I'm one of those inedible horrible cheeseballs with the nuts on 'em that my in-laws always serve. That's me, all right.

My evil plan is going exactly according to my evil plan. Bwhahahahahaha! I've gotten all the bulk I need to start my cutting phase a week from this Monday. I'm working on shedding a little fat over the next 8 days. Then the fun begins. Six pack abs are not the goal. Pffft. Six pack abs. *yawns* The goal here is six pack abs with a vein on them (or where the abs meet the obliques). I've gone from a "fat bastard" to, if someone pointed ME out on the beach to ME, I'd say about myself: "He's kind of a fatty". So, from "fat bastard" to "kind of a fatty". I'm going to shed 5% body fat in the next 10 weeks. I don't need a friggin' fat caliper. I can tell by looking in the mirror. The only use I would have for a fat caliper is to hold my little wienie when I take a whizz. Yes, my evil plan is going exactly according to my evil plan. Mhahahahahaha! *Takes pinkie and does doctor Evil thing with pinkie to mouth.*

So...To recap. Less than 4 months of work. See the above progress post for the sordid details.

If you look up the word "Manly" in the dictionary. You know what you will find. But if you look up the word "HERManly" in the dictionary you will find this etching along with the following definition... Hermanly (Herm-man'-ly) adj. 1. Having qualities traditionally attributed to Steven Herman 2. Belonging to or befitting HermTheWorm: Masculine appearance accentuated by exaggerated shoulder width to waist ratio, usually accompanied by the presence of six large raised surfaces on the abdominal area. "You can't wear such a small swimsuit to a public beach, you're simply not Hermanly enough!"

This is the shot of moi I used for my progress picture entry yesterday. I don't always walk around draped in only an amazingly plush super-huge (Monogrammed Herm, white on white, oh-so-subtle, just like yours truly) towel. I was just fresh out of the shower and... Wait... Wait one New York minute. There's something toga-like about being draped in a towel...I think...No, I'm sure, that after I undergo my apotheosis from mere Worm into Irving Sexbaum: Jewish God of love/deity, THIS should be my outfit. Who needs posing trunks? Yes! A towel, sandals and a wreath of laurel on my head (Okay, maybe a yarmulke). I can see myself now: descending triumphantly down from the heavens--Or more accurately, hobbling down from Mount Hermanicus (Place where all Hermlike beings dwell), complaining about the corns on my toes and a painful boil on my tush as...Not a human...But Irving. Irving Sexbaum. A man among men and a Jew among Jews. Oh! if my friends could see me now!

I just worked hamstrings and calves today, so why the shot of the upper body? To show you that when you're a REAL man, a big, strong, 200 pound lummox, no one is going to go up to you and tell you that your "Scott Baio 1970's wristbands" don't match, because if they do, you bop them right on the head. That's all.

Workout over. See ya' tomorrow, baby.

This is me not last Saturday, but 2 Saturdays ago (13 days if you're a little slow). This is some of what I have to work with to sculpt in the next two months. Yes, my titties are a little too fat (I bet you folks still want to give them a little squeezie. Oh, behave!) but as you can see, what I'm starting out with THIS time is quite a lot better of a physique (Ugh! Feh!) than I had to work with than in September. I will become a worm to be reckoned with. No doubt about it. I should be quite formidable when this fresh new hell is over. Watch out. The worm is on the loose, baby!

Here I am today on a Saturday, puttering around in my chef pants. Is something burning? Nope, it's me. I'm smoking. You ain't seen nuthin' yet. I'm not even warm. Nature is playing some kind of cruel trick on me, making me this fit and youthful at the ripe young age of 47. I think it my be compensation for the small "package" she gave me.

One week of Cybergenics in the can. Eight to go. I now have the kind of body that horny, over 50 year old spinsters and gay guys with 4 or more drinks in them would find irresistible. Big whoop. That is not the goal here, folks. In 8 more weeks, I will have a Jeans and a Tee shirt "WTF body". I am within striking distance. I will get what I want. When I walk down the street or sit down at an outdoor cafe, I want to see people squirm. I call this phenomenon "Squirmin' with Herman." I'm not Irving Sexbaum the Jewish God of Love...Yet. Not close. But not too far, either. I've had to unbutton the top of my Levis to ratchet up the Sexyometer (tm patent pending). Jewish Love Gods shouldn't have to resort to such chicanery. (Truth be told, my jeans are still too tight from my fatty/bulking stage, LOL). So folks, sit facing the screen please, and watch the transformation happen before your disbelieving eyes. And yes, squirming is not only allowed, but encouraged.

I figure an adonis-like body will not be enough to distract people from my...Ahem...Shortcomings when I go to the nude beach this summer. Maybe this hat will help matters. Lordy, how I hate when people point and laugh. It makes it even... Smaller... And when I get out of the cold water? Damn, I'm practically a HERMaphrodite. Maybe I should ditch the nude beach idea altogether. The no tan-line thing is over-rated anyway and the little fishies tend to nibble on the worm. I hate when that happens.

"Okay, you can let me back in now, I'm okay, really. I wasn't okay before, but I'm okay now, you can let me back in. Really" In the John Carpenter Movie "The Thing", Wilford Brimley goes apesh*t and starts shooting up the place. They finally subdue him and lock his ass in the supply shed. I'm paraphrasing, but he pretty much says what I've typed to open this entry. Trying to convince everyone that he is okay now, and, in fact, they can let him out to join the others (they don't BTW). I had put on my "Happy Herm" sweatpants and I'm okay to go to the gym. Really. I'm okay now, you can let me out. The worm is ready to crawl out of his hole. Peacefully. I'm okay. Really. I posted this after the post below, why it's above it, I don't fu-king know.

Saturday Mourning. I have discovered a major asymmetry in my physique that needs fixing. A body part of mine (not shown) is overdeveloped and needs to come down a peg, which part, I'm not going to tell you. (It sure as sh*t isn't my f--king calves) I'm not going to post a f--king chart of myself with bullet points and call-outs detailing my flaws. That's what wifes are for. It's fixable. Fixable in 6 weeks. So I threw this shot of me up to make the miserable little crybaby feel a little better and maybe I'll get a compliment or two that will make me go from killing someone today to merely injuring them severely. 3% bodyfat to get rid of still. That's f--king easy as pie. Abs: No good. Abs with viens on them: good. Have a nice effen' weekend, folks.

Is this happy enough for you? Or maybe this? I'm so God damn Happy that they should call me "Mr. Happy!" Oh nooeees! What's that you say? People call their weiners "Mr. Happy"? Well, people have been saying that I've been acting like a prick lately, so I guess if the shoe fits, right? I don't think a human being, or any species for that matter, could or should be THIS happy. Last time I saw anyone this happy was the little space alien who had aducted me and was in the process of giving me a "probe". I was re-arranging the furniture and acting fabulous for a week after that "little incident". Nobody can be happy ALL the time. That is, except if you're me. Mister Happy AKA Senor Feliz.

So I was supposed to take my little niece and nephew to the petting zoo today and they were all like "We don't want to go to the petting zoo with Uncle Herm because he's naked except for that black box, the big weirdo!" And I was like "Fine, you little sh*ts, I'll go by myself, I don't give a f*ck." And my sister was like "Don't use that kind of language in front of my kids, Steven." And I was like "I hate it when people call me Steven. My God damn name is Herm. Herm the f8cking Worm, you stupid c*nt." And she was like "Get out, get out now, you horrible, horrible man, and take that black box with you!" And I was like "Fine, I hate those brats anyway, and you too, @sshole." So I went to the petting zoo by myself with only my little black rectangle as company. I found petting the furry little animals to be very soothing and therapeutic and it put me in better spirits, until my bitch, Ian, showed up and tried to shove one of them, like, up his ass and they kicked us out. But it was a fun day.

19 days down. 41 to go.

Post workout Tuesday: "Hey Herm, you got some major lower ab fat to lose in the next 5 weeks." I say to myself. "No problem!" I reply. Talking to myself. Again. "And while you're at it, how about a shave?" "And while you're at it, how about you kiss my big, black, Jewish ass?" "That Colts hat is getting a little..Uh...Gamey...Why don't you just wash your hair and blow it out?" "Why don't you 'blow it out' of your ass?" Such a mensch, that HermTheWorm is, even when he's talking to himself. I need a shower and a shave. Bad. I truly am a dirty Jew.

There. I'm all shaved and showered. Everybody is happy except me. I miss the flies buzzing around. My body is clean, but my mind is still dirty. I need to have my mind washed out with soap. Yes, I'm looking SO good these days and thinking back to the zillions of times in my life when people (especially woman whom I have asked out) have told me to "Go f--k myself." I'm looking in the mirror and thinking "Hmmm, not such a bad idea." OMG! Does that make me gay? Where are the great philosophers when you need them? (Look at that f--king Ian nodding his head saying "Yup, yup, I knew it from the start. G-A-Why don't you come up and see me some time, big boy?") I think a nice trip to a VERY downscale titty bar and I'll be as good as new. Beer. Fat scanky women. Salvation. Hallalulya. Hmmm, on second thought, if I go to the gay bar, the guys will all be buying me free drinks, and I am a cheap Jew, after all. This is truly a dilemma.

Easter egg in my bicep.

Hey folks, swimsuit time. This is one of my "before" photos for the "40 plusers 8 week challenge." Check out the rest in my photo gallery. I took them this morning. I'm sure you will love them becuase they are photos of yours truly and everyone loves yours truly. Yes, folks these are "before" pics. I included a close up of my eye, because people always tell me that they are a beautiful color, hazel green. I once dated an old Jewish lady named Hazel who wore dentures. That means she could remove her teeth. Okay I'll put it in all caps. SHE COULD REMOVE HER TEETH! Have you ever dated a woman who could remove her teeth? You don't know what you're missing, folks. I miss Hazel.

I wrote in a previous blog entry that lookswise I'm no Brad Piitt. But physiquewise Brad Pitt is no HermTheWorm. I can kick his ass. Yes, I can. He weighs all of 160 something pounds and I weigh in in the mid 190's. Do the math. Yeah, he may be one good-looking dude, but if he messed with me, he wouldn't be so good-looking for long. That's all. ...And Angelina Jolie, if you have a problem with that you can use those big lips of yours to (all together now) kiss my big, black Jewish ass.

Herm!!! :-o Your jeans were getting baggy before and NOW you've gone back to your old lame-o leaving the top button unbuttoned style? What..The...F*ck...? Relax. Those were my "fat jeans". This morning I woke up and wondered how I would do with my "Real Jeans" AKA my skinny jeans. Yes, folks, the ones with the 28" waist. And no, that is NOT a typo. Twenty eight inch waist. Read it and weep. I will fit into these suckers with room to spare three Mondays from now. So, you Hermophobes out there can console yourselves with the fact that I just rolled out of bed and my hair (I needed a haircut badly about two months ago) is totally bedheaded out and that I need a shave and that I look groggy, becuase, well, I am f--king groggy. But 3 weeks from now I will have had my $120 Japanese precision haircut under my belt, my hair will be neat, I will be shaved, and my Jeans will fit perfectly. In other words, I will be one bad case of B.O. away from perfection. I am man enough to roll out of bed and photograph myself. I am a real man, Dammit! They don't make them like me anymore! (...And, due to the advances in modern prenatal care, there aren't likely to be more like me coming down the pike. That's all.)

Received a nice little insult from a friend of mine via e-mail today. "I look as good as guys half my age." As...Good? Hello? How many 23 and a half year olds look this good? You sit yourself on a corner and you haul in the first 100 pot-smoking, fast food-eating, soul patch under the lip wearing 23 year olds , take their shirts off and stand them next the The Worm (I'm not in prime shape yet, incidentally). Watch them slink away with their tails between their legs. Owned and De-throned by the old Jew. The king. Next? Like my new hat I picked up this afternoon? Not that I give a rat's ass. Have a nice day all, and remember 23 year olds, if you eat right and work out hard, one day you might be as awesome as...Nah...On second thought, it ain't gonna' happen. Why even get your hopes up? Ooops, I almost forgot. Silly me. I haven't done ANY cardio for the last two months, let's see how ripped I get once I start.

Okay Herm, what the hell did Christian Bale ever do to you to make you want to humiliate him in a side by side torso coparison? Well, I remember my wife remarking that the little sissy boy had a good physique in the movie "American Psycho" (...And by the way folks, I am the ORIGINAL American Psycho). Well, revenge is a dish best served cold. That's right. The Worm has turned. Now, Mister Bale, Sweetheart, please take a seat on the sofa next to my other bitch, Brad Pitt. I'm a very busy man and there's a long line of Hollywood leading "men" (and I use the term loosely) waiting outside to be emasculated in side by side torso comparisons to "The worm". Go on Christian, or else I'll kick your little ass. Can you imagine the headlines in tomorrows papers if that happened? Christian Gets Ass Kicked By Jew. I'm going to go to hell for having this much fun.

Off to the gym. Off to pain. Off to sweat. Off...To greatness. Here I am in my spring gym attire. The strapping, manly, all-American boy. I tuck my tee shirt in when I workout to show the world my exaggerated v-taper. A manlier man there never was. (Not to be confused with "a man among men" I.E. a homo). A throwback. An anachronism. The last of his kind (As the fact that I am the last All-American "boy" at the age of 47 will attest.) Yes, with a smile in my face, and bile in my heart, The worm ventures forth into the world of tattoos, piercings and mohawks that is the east village circa 2009. Hated and reviled by all those around him just for being him; Herm bravely marches on, to the sound of his own drummer (...Or is that the sound of my balls jangling?) carrying the torch (or minorah, in my case) for truth, justice and the Jewish way. Shalom.

I really hate the facial expression in the last picture. Not the "real" me. Smiley. Feh! The scowl. The patented HermTheWorm scowl, now THAT's me. I've got three and a half weeks to get my lower abs kicking. I am losing a little bulk but getting tighter and my muscle "hardness" is getting harder. My wife always says that I am the hardest. People always say to her "I bet he's hard to live with." and she always replies "The hardest!" Yup, folks, I'm STILL the hardest.

There's a certain member of the BB.com community who will remain nameless, but has a proclivity for bananas and picking parasites off his peers and eating them, who will not put me on his friends list. He said he might if I continued to humiliate Hollywood "stars" (Ha! As if! I'm the only f-cking star--God, I'm such an obnoxious lout). I saw on his profile where it said which celebrities physique's do you admire and he listed Jamie Bamber. Well, here is Mr. Bamber and here is Mister Worm. Mr. Bamber *Boos and hisses*. Mr. Worm *Raucous applause and fanfare* From this day forth, Mr. Bamber will be known as Mr. Bambi. Now prance over to the couch of bitches along side Brad Pitt and Chistian Bale, Bambi, and make yourself at home. There's enough Quiche Lorraine for everyone. Hugh Jackman, you got me now, but I have you in the cross hairs. Your days are numbered, bitch. ...And remember, Hugh, muh man, what the whole bitch thing has in common with the whole gift thing...It is better to give than to receive.

I always have my hands at my sides for my progress shots. You'd think I didn't have an awesome shoulder to waist ratio. You'd think I didn't have an awesome V-taper. You'd think I didn't have awesome serratus and obliques. You'd think I was hiding something. You'd think wrong. Gotta' problem wit' dat? Any compliants about my progress blurbs can be e-mailed to www.KissMyBigBlackJewishAss. Don't worry, I will promptly get back to any and all those who have unkind words for me with a computer virus or at the very least something very sexually explicit regarding your mother and/or grandmother, so please be patient. Have a nice day. :-)

I had my eyebrows threaded today and I think it gives me the look of a satyr. Satyrs are part goat and I am an old goat, so there is a commonality there. The satyr was a Greek mythological figure and so was Hermes, if you take liberties with the pronunciation, that can be pronounced Hermies. There must be a connection in there somewhere. It's all greek to me. (...And yes, Ian, I know what the Greeks are famous for.) And lastly, Satrys have horns and everyone knows that Jews do too. I file mine down as Hell Boy does. The guy who plays Hell Boy is a Jew, incidentally. So there you have it. From now on for cardio I'm going to skip naked through the woods playing a lute. Check out the vein on my shoulder.

I'm going for the nuclear option here. A certain member of BB.com STILL hasn't put me on his friends list. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I am going to wear this hat 24/7. To the gym, to bed, in the shower. I'm going to take off this hat less than a Hasidic Jew takes off his yarmulke. I am going to eat bananas. Yes, I am going to eat them. And how! For breakfast. For Lunch. For dinner. I'm going to call over my bitch, Ian Bernardo, and he is going to show me the least painful way to insert a banana into my rectum. I'm not playing around here. When I see strangers in elevators, I will, without prompting, go through their hair in search of parasites. If I find any I will eat them. I will perpetually scratch under my arms. I will take baths in Rogaine in the hopes of growing hair all over my body. I am going to undergo a very dangerous and costly operation to have my lower spine extended from my body in order that it resembles a tail. I am going to remove the darts from my dartboard and throw them the f-ck out. I will save my poo and fling that at the dart board instead. If I'm going to fling poo, I want to fling it accurately. Practice makes perfect. If this doesn't get me on the friend's list I'm giving up. In fact, I'm giving up ass-kissing altogether, because clearly I am no good at it. I hope all your hopes and prayers are with me on this one, folks. BTW, my eyelashes are naturally this dark and thick. No cosmetic chicanery here.

I rolled out of bed and snapped this shot, up close and personal. Grooming schmooming, there with be time for that later. I will be attended to. Right now, I do not look human. Yes. I. Am. STILL. The. Hardest. ...Still. I am like a rabbit dog. No, that is NOT a typo. Half rabbit, half dog (chihuahua). Hopalong Herman, that's me. I was posing my quads in front of a full length mirror last night and spied this guy from the NYU dorms peering in at me. I don't know if he was gay or not, but after looking at me, he probably is now.

The battle of the century! (last century). In one corner, with the world's best photographers, groomers, stylists and a ton of photoshopping at age 22 is Marky Mark. In the other corner. Fresh out of bed, unshaven and smelling slightly ripe, with zero photoshopping to his photo at age 47, Wormy Worm. After padding his record with patsys, The Herm steps up in class. This is going to be a clasic confrontation. Boy versus man (Her-MAN). The Herm is staggered in the early rounds. He goes down in round 5, and stuggles to his feet, barely beating the count. Herm's fierce det-HERMAN-nation starts to wear down the young upstart in the later rounds. In round 12, The Herm unleashes a furious barrage of pure Jewishness and Marky Mark goes down. He is saved by the final bell. This is going to have to go to the scorecards, folks. We have a majority decision. One judge votes a tie, and two give The Herm the better physique. The winner, and STILL the HARDEST, the undefeated, undisputed king. Wormy Worm. Marky Mark doesn't go to the couch of bitches, because The Herm has to give him his props for a hard fought battle. They shake hands and Marky Mark exists stage left. "Any time you want I rematch, you know where to find me!" Herm yells. Everyone at The Cool Table raises their glasses "All hail Hermanicus!" Clink.

Yes!!! I can fit back into my 28 inch waist jeans and my weight is still a tad over 190 pounds. I haven't been able to wear my skinny jeans in months. Months!!! They are a bit snug for my taste, but in 10 days? Perfection. Twenty eight f-cking inches, baby.

Saturday, in between workouts. Back to the grill again. This time, next time, every time, all the time. Prime time. Like a m'fuggin' rocket ship, baby. Yeah, I got more than enough. I am fit as a fiddle. As a fiddler on the roof, folks (...And the Jewishness just keeps on coming....). You think its easy balancing yourself on that roof playing the f-cking fiddle without your yarmulke falling off? You try it, big shot.

Sunday. Post workout numero Dos. Tired? No way, Jose. Comin' down the home stretch. Smack it home, baby! I gots hat head and I needs a shave (actually, I'm doing some shots with scruff then shaving). Decided not to be a cheap Jew. Gonna' have a hair and make-up girl there to doll my grubby ass up. Lean, mean AND clean (and my abs are obscene).

In 48 hours I'll be shooting my Jewish ass off. I'm off to the gym for my second workout of the day; wanted to see what my Brazilian and my one hour old haircut look like. It is what it is, or as Popeye would say, I am what I am (I quote Popeye a lot, don't I?) Okay, flat washed-out light from the window, computer photograph, nothing can erase your definition like that, and I'm still looking not so shabby. Face-wise is another story. I'm looking over my shoulder. I can not do the come hither look. I will not even ATTEMPT to try the come hither look. I have the Robert Deniro psycho from Taxi Driver look: "You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Ain't nobody else in the room." The irony here is that I'm ALWAYS talking to myself when there's no one else in the room. Why? Because I'm f-cking nutds, that's why. I look a little tired because I AM EXTREMELY exhausted. That adds 5 years to how old I look, so I look about 29 here (Heh heh heh). Tomorrow I'm doing one workout and sleeping all day. Forearms need to be Naired and I'm good to go. Maybe I'll Nair my...Nah, I'm not gonna' go there (Rhymes with Niagara Falls, though).

You think just because I had a big time photoshoot and am well on my way to being a major (albiet old and Jewish) fitness model that I was going to stop posting pictures of myself? Did you think for one minute The Herm was going to sit on his laurels? Did you think he was going to refrain from posting inane, inappropriate and immature comments next to said pictures? Ha! Double ha. Ha ha. Hardy f-cking har har. Don't make me laugh. I'm going to KEEP posting my stupid pics (complete with amazing South Beach tan and brass knuckles necklace. Cool, huh?) And... To make matters worse. I am mapping out a series of videos that I will post here for your viewing horror called "Cooking up a great body" Starring yours truly. Which I will then air on public access TV and then... Who f-cking knows, and for that matter cares; but Imma' do it anyway. :P

I think the time has come for me to get over myself.

I live in the village and I am a person. Thus, I am a village person and one of the village people. They have Cowboy Man. They have Construction Man. They have Police Man. They have Leather Man (A.K.A. The Butt Blaster). They Have Army Man. Now they have Her Man. Macho, baby.

Celebrity physique showdown # (Ummm, I've lost track). The world's Sexiest Man Versus The World's Wormiest Man. Hugh Versus Jew. Too close to call, but Jackoff is too afraid to show his abs. Will I give him the benefit of the doubt? No. I win. :P People write in and complain that the voting was rigged. I answer each and every angry e-mail with a personal response of "Kiss my big black Jewish ass." The End

I just got this hat in the mail this morning. I am a happy Jew. It does not take much to make me happy. I have no work and no workout today. I can't remember the last time I took a day off from the gym. My photoshoot was not an off day as I was flexing so much all day I was sore the day after. I am going to take a rare opportunity to go outside and run errands and enjoy my physicality. I will add a white wife beater to the linen trousers and hat and I'll be good to go. I am not exaggerating when I say I feel like I am 15 years old today. I'm even going to take a tan and guild that f-cking Lilly. I'm am back to being tanorexic again. Beautiful. Do I have a whole lot of wrinkles to show for it? Hell no, only on my...Ooop, almost slipped there. I wish I was someone else today so I could see myself strutting down the street. That would be awesome. I wonder if I'd get jealous of myself? Or even get a gay crush on myself? Such profound thoughts. Yup, I'm a 15 year old all right.

I woke up this morning faced with a very grave decision. Should I act like an adult today or put on the old leopardskin Fez and act like an idiot? Need I say more?

I demand a rematch! And a rematch is what I got! In the last physique showdown, Huge Jackass was flexing his arm and mine was at my side, and more importantly... HE HAD A TANK TOP!!! How the hell do you expect me to kick ass without a tank top? (See, I'm holding one in my hot little hand, so there :P). Now the playing field is even. Even Steven. Okay, Hughie boy, now I KNOW why blades come out of your fists, you gay blade, you. Now get the hell over to the couch were you belong, before I lose my temper. Scoot, or I'll crush you like a bug! (Again.)

Grooming is for girls and girly men. Here I am, just rolled out of bed on a Sunday morning. No combing of the hair and three days removed from my last shave and shower. I smell so bad, flies, that ordinarily buzz around sh-t, want no part of me. Jesus, today's flies think they're too good for the world, don't they? They don't make flies like they used to. Maybe they are afraid of me because I am wasp-waisted and wasps kill flies. Will a WASP waist get me into an exclusive Darian Connecticut country club, or will they say "Your kind isn't welcome around these parts, Jew"? Only time will tell...

I have today, tomorrow and Tuesday to relish my unofficial title as the world's sexiest 47 year old Jew. As of Wednesday I will be the world's sexiest 48 year old Jew. My physique is a little smoothed out here. I've been hovering in the high 180's and yesterday I finally hit 190 again. I've had to abstain from all cardio endeavors and have been eating slightly more carbs, otherwise, my diet, as always, is on point. Looking to hit 195 in two weeks and then I'll start my return to my usual out-of-control ripped, vascular self. Website coming in two weeks, then hopefully a fitness modeling assignment or two, then the world will be my f-cking oyster and I'll be happy as a clam. Incidentally, don't confuse crankiness with unhappiness. I'm always happy. I am happy when I am cranky. They are mutually exclusive. That's your education for today. Thank me very much.

The first official picture of me at age 48. I am in the mid 190's and smooth as hell. I put on a little nice mass on my upper pecs and traps, though. On Monday I start cutting again. Look for me to have my best body ever by...Okay, I am going to set a date right now...September 15th. Hold me to it. Okay? (I got something for ya' to hold.) Yes. 48 years old. Older, but obviously not wiser. Not even a little. I may have even regressed a notch. Sue me.

This is not a progress picture. I took this picture 30 seconds before the one above it. I just don't like that I'm tucking my chin in in the above shot and it makes it look like I have a double chin, when in fact, I have the defined jawline of an 18 year old. It's all academic. I weighed myself at 200 pounds on the button an hour or so after this picture was taken. 200 pounds AND I can fit into my skinny jeans. Got that everyone? 200 pounds and I'm fitting into my skinny jeans and NOW I am going to get REALLY cut. This is going to be scary, folks, scary indeed. :-o Oh yeah, I have bed head in this shot. Go ahead, comment on my cow licks. Go ahead. I got something for you to... Nah, I won't go there. That's too vulgar and crass even for me. Yup, even for me. The Worm knows where to draw the line. (Wanna' see where I drew it?)

Okay, ladies and gentleman of the jury, let the record show that yesterday, August 7th 2009, HermtheWorm weighed in at 204 pounds (This photo taken August 8th). This is by far the heaviest I've ever weighed in my life. I'm always asking my friends on here what their long term/short term goals are. I am going to practice what I preach. I would guestimate my bodyfat is around 10 percentish, give or take a decimal point. By September 21st my bodyfat will be 8 percent and I will still be in the mid 190's (maybe high 190's). I am going to land a fitness model shoot before October 1st or die trying. (Why am I so fond of using the expression "Die trying"? I think because I kill myself every work out, so it feels like I am dying, that's my guess.) I went to a steakhouse yesterday and ate naughty. I always eat naughty on Friday nights when I am in a maintenance and/or bulk phase. No more naughty Friday nights from here on in. On the bright side. I'm on my way to the gym and hopefully I am more than 204 pounds. I also went completely goat on Raw almond butter and fruit sweetened blueberry preserves on Ryvata crackers all night. I will adjust the weight when I get back if need be. 204 pounds, baby. I'm not even too fat. A little (for me), but not too much.;)

Check this out, folks, I'm wearing underwear! I never wear underwear. Never. But recently I bought a few pairs for the gym. You know that old western song: I've got spurs that jingle , jangel , jingle? Well, with me, it wasn't spurs, it was my balls. People in the gym were complaining about the noise. I got underwear now. No more jingle , jangel , jingle. :) Me. Mister commander wearing underwear. Who woulda' thunk it? No wonder I had it framed.

Training update: Tell me about it. When I'm done with this next phase of my training cycle, to commence in two days, I will tell you this much. There will be guys on this site who are bigger than me. There will be guys on this site with more definition than me. But I'll be f-cking God Damned if there is going to be ANYONE on this site or anywhere else with a more beautifully aesthetic, perfectly proportioned (And dare I say it? I believe I may. Porkable, porktastic. and Pork-a-f*ckin-licious) male physique than me. It ain't gonna' happen. I ain't gonna let it. Over my dead fine, fine, Jewish body. Read the caption on my signature "Failure is not a God damn option." ...And don't give me that "maybe for a 48 year old Jewish dude, Herm". No! For any f-cking body. That's all. Meeting over. I'm going to the gym to "Do work". Yeah, cause that's what I do. That's what makes me The Herm and everyone else everyone else. Like my cocky body language? Or what I called it when I was 4 years old, my cocky doody body language?

Ever hear of the three tenors? They were called the three tenors because they possessed type of male singing voice that is the highest male voice within the modal register. Here is my version of the three tenors. We are called tenors because we are all tens from one to ten on the ol' porkometer. Fat? Yes. Filthy? Most definitely. But still tens. Bo Derek, eat your heart out. Incidentally, Donald Duck had three nephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie. The three nephews in the photo on the left? Jewy, Jewy and Jewy.

I'm getting dressed for the gym and took this quick snapshot. Had to bend down to fit into the frame which explains the rather odd pose. This is as uncut as you're ever going to see me as I've started my cutting cycle this week and it has yet to kick in, so enjoy feeling superior to me while you can. Just know, that no matter HOW uncut I am or was, I will always, let me repeat, ALWAYS be a nicer person than you. Have a nice weekend.

My cutting cycle has now commenced. Girls, cancel all subscriptions to your hot, horny male physique websites. My pictures will suffice from here on in. Thank me very much. Sorry if I can't answer all the filthy X-rated PMs sent my way. There are just too many for me to answer. Be patient, I'll eventually get around to you with the full frontal nudes you so can't live without. (Guys, stop hating on me because I have such a large female following. Large? Did I say large? I meant huge, like my dick. You think I want this? Do you? Do you think I can help it? I'm a God damn force of nature. A force of nature! That's what I am!) Girls, here's a little free dirty talk to tide you over: Cacah Poopy Doo. No more freebies.

Look at the body language in this pose. It says: I am ready, willing and able. (My motto: I may not be Clark Gable, but I'm ready, willing and able.) I am Mister Can Do. The Can Do Jew. That's me, all right.

Coming along. I am happy an 8 from one to ten with my progress so far. Have a whole lot of body fat to shed. Easy. Watch as I melt away the next 4 weeks while holding onto mass. Powerful, ripped and deliciously symmetrical physique, here I come! Stand back and watch the awesomeness happen. That's all. On a serious note, roll your eyes if you want, but I smear my abs with ab-solution plus creme and cover it up with a neoprene belt with magnets pre-workout. I have no secrets. You wanna' know what I do, and I'll tell ya'. I'm all about sharing information (And, of course, full frontal naked pictures).

Wow, I scared myself. I forgot how great of an artist/designer/art director etcetera I am. I did a blog post "The monster is loose" last night and lit it and cropped it just right and got the perfect scary atmosphere. But the truth is, outside of the gym, I am (usually) a very affable, lovable, cute kind of gentlemanly and urbane guy. Soft spoken too, as you'll see when I do my cooking videos. I just wanted to post a more accurate photo of myself this morning that isn't as scary. If I want to deliver the goods graphically, as you saw, they will be delivered. The Herm always delivers the goods. This picture? Not scary in the least. Very approachable. Now, if I whipped my huge f-cking dick out, that would be another story.

Yes, it's my famous deer in the headlights expression once again, folks. I am still kind of cute despite the fact that I am sweaty and I'm not wearing underwear.

Enough with the hatemail PMs, girls. Really, enough is enough. My PM box is full to the maximum with hatemail. I do one picture. ONE measly picture of myself with a shirt on and all hell breaks loose. Where's that beautiful torso? Why are you covering up, Herm, WTF? What, have you gotten modest in your old age? And of course the inevitable... It's bad enough you don't show your dick, now your going to cover up your torso? BTW, if you want to see my God Damn wiener, shell out the damn $39.99 for my nude DVD box set. Jeepers, you women are so cheap! I've already thrown in a Hermo The Perverted Clown DVD in the mix. What more could you possibly ask for? So here I am without a shirt as per your requests...Er...Demands. In between my first and second workouts of the day looking ruffled and sort of cute, perhaps even borderline sexy. Also, I'm thinking about making a HermTheWorm blowup doll. Guess were I'm thinking about putting the part that you have to blow into to inflate the thing?

Photo description: Gay white trash. I am the long lost missing sixth Village person. Trashman. Motto: He'll pork your ass like you were his sister.

I'm never going to be the biggest guy out there. I'm never going to be the most cut guy out there. But I'll tell you what, folks, I will have THE body that guys say "Damn, I wish I had a body like that" and women drool over. I just want the sexiest, most aesthetic physique out there. I'm hanging my hat on that. That is my future. The fact that I am a 48 year old Jew only makes my accomplishments that much more amazing (Trust me, you do NOT want to go through what I go through in the gym every day. Seriously. Take my word for it. It is no picnic.) So I am going to spend the next three weeks putting the pedal to the metal so I can win the Wilhelmina amateur hot body contest. I have cut off my face on this picture just to prove to my detractors that I do not need to coast on my good looks. No distractions. This is all about the body.

I took this shot real quick after coming back from dinner Friday night. Two weeks from tomorrow I'm sending in my shots for the Wilhelmina amateur hot body search. I've got 15 days to hone my stuff. I'm feeling good, almost confident, but not really allowing myself to be. If you look at this shot vis a vis my avatar you can see my chest is fuller, my arms are bigger and my traps are more developed. I'm simply going to have a better body. I've worked hard on all my weaknesses and even my calves are looking good. I'm not even oiled up or properly lit as I am in my avatar shot. Just plopped myself down and took this one shot. I said I was going to look better than I have ever looked in my life and I m going to deliver.Cutting and cutting some more. 15 more days. Magic will happen. MAGIC! (Maybe I'll pull my dick out of a hat or saw it in half.) When this contest is over, oh Jesus, the patented HermtheWorm oh-so-sexy, ever-so-retarded videos are going to come flying at you fast and furious! You are officially on notice.

Yes, it's time to play everybody's favorite game again. HermTheWorm's movie star smackdown. On the left we have the actor formally known as Gerard Butler, now known as Gaytard Buttboy. On the right we have the boyishly handsome, ever-so-swole HermTheWorm. I win AGAIN based in my superior chest development, superior deltoid development, bigger arms, more deeply etched abs, superior vascularity...Sh!t, this is getting boring...Superior EVERYTHING. Ohhhh, what's this? Is Gerrry trying to scare me with his big bad spear? Hey, Ger, my spear is longer AND thicker than yours. What's that you say? You want to be in another 300 movie? No problem. I hear they're making a gay, erotic version of the Truffaut classic "300 blows". Oh, it's "400 Blows"? That's an extra 100! Gerry, you better get your fine, fine mouth over to the couch and start practicing!

You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talkin' to? You talkin' to me? Well I'm the only one here. Who the f-ck do you think you're talking to? June twenty-ninth. I gotta get in shape. Too much sitting has ruined my body. Too much abuse has gone on for too long. From now on there will be 50 pushups each morning, 50 pullups. There will be no more pills, no more bad food, no more destroyers of my body. From now on will be total organization. Every muscle must be tight.

Me. Today. Okay folks. Body is not enough. I had my eyebrows threaded and had a Brazilian hair straightening treatment today. The better to look like the all American average Joe that Wilhelmina is looking for for their hot body search. They are looking for someone who they can say "Hey! Look who we found! And he's an average gym guy just like YOU! We plucked him out of the local gym and here he is!" Me. The Crest white strips are doing their magic. In two weeks the lower abs will be where they need to be. Kickin. Now... Just to add insult to injury...Suppose you are walking along the beach and you saw me and this so-called movie star standing side by side (I have made this hypothetical situation easy for you to visualize). Gerard Butler is 8 years younger than I am if this picture of him was taken today. It is probably a couple of years old, so he is something like a DECADE younger than me here. Girls, who would you rather be porked by? Yes, I know 99.9 percent of you are married and/or have boyfriends but use your imagination (I'm sure you've used your imagination with me a lot already. Wink, wink). If nothing else I am more youthful and vital than he is? Body? Pu-leez. Am I cuter than him? Perhaps, folks, perhaps. Guys, if you're considering changing your sexual orientation because of me, I completely understand. Don't lose any sleep over it. It's okay. Really.

So this is where I am this morning, two weeks away from taking a snapshot and sending it into Wilhelmina. This is not going to even come CLOSE to cutting it. Not even close. I am kind of down in the dumps as I know I could have hit cardio harder and worked my abs with more intensity. Whatever can be done it the next two weeks will be done. Having a body that is the best body on the beach on a given day or a great body for a guy my age is not what I am about. I WILL do what needs to be done in the next two weeks and as a punishment to myself for being such a slacker-ass f@ggot, I am going to pour it the f-ck on after this contest and REALLY put myself through the ringer until the new year. Good enough isn't good enough for me. I'm not going to live my life as a mediocrity. I'm going to be down in the dumps for another few minutes and then I'm going to shift into being very, very, very pissed off. I don't mind being pissed off. I accomplish a lot in that state. I'm too pissed off to type any more. Excellent.

At long last...The naked picture! Rolled out of bed this morning and shot this. (Yes, I sleep in the nude and ALSO shower in the nude. Fancy that). I wanted to see how my whole body looked proportionately. I'm all about proportion. I've got my quads and calves totally up to snuff. I am very pleased with that. My proportions are one hundred percent perfection, except for my dick which is disproportionally large. They have breast reductions, maybe I'll have a similar operation to have my Johnson scaled down to a less terrifying size. I'm just out of bed with three days beard growth and STILL a handsome devil. I know you girls must hate me because YOU have to put on make-up and pluck and truck and duck or whatever the hell you do for hours and hours on end in the God damn bathroom. Me, I just roll out of bed and WHAM. I can start to see the bottom of my lower abs and the crease between my abs has almost gone down to where it should be. There is a nice little vein forming on my oblique. Nice. Cropped out of the picture is a bodypart that is veinyer still; but you will have to send away for my nude DVD set to view that monstrosity, $39.99 not including shipping and handling (Handling. Ha ha.), you cheap bastards.

Another classic confrontation. On the left, we have G.I. Joe. On the right, we have G.I. Jew. G.I. Joe used to be a paragon of macho manliness...Or was he just an excuse for future homosexuals to play with dolls? You can play with me instead (Males need not apply). Take my word for it, it's fun playing with me. This I know as I play with myself a lot. As usual, HermTheWorm has shamed another iconic figure of so-called manliness. I'm running out of real-life guys, so now I'm delving into the world of action figures. Dig my bullet necklace? It's cool to have something deadly dangling from your neck. I ALSO have something deadly dangling from between my legs. But what a way to go! Right, girls? (That's really f-cked that the poor guy has no dick and balls. I feel bad for picking on him. On second thought...Nah!)

I'm really getting fed up with the repetition, but here we go a-f-cking-gain. I will NEVER be the biggest guy out there nor will I be the most ripped. I will simply be a paragon of male physical perfection. That is my lot in life. Next week I break out the wheels, and If you hate me for my torso, get ready to REALLY despise me. Two weeks of intense cardio and I'm ready to throw my hat into the ring with the best of them in the Wilhelmina search. The biggest body? Nope. The most ripped body? Nix. The hottest body? ...We'll just have to wait and see, won't we? I get my bodyfat down another one percent and get my lower abs where they should be and I think I can pull off the upset of the century. (Don't act like I never toldja'.)

LL Cool J Versus LL Cool Jew... One word: Next!

The Rock Versus The Herm. ...Next!

Girls, if this shot doesn't get the fire going, the pilot light is out.

I took this shot to show how insanely V-tapered/wasp-waisted I am. Impressed? Just for the record. Next time I wear a tank top to the gym or walking down the street will be the first time. I ONLY wear my collection of ultra-cool wifebeaters to knock around the house or for the beach/pool when on vacation. Incidentally, don't try to console yourselves by saying "He probably has sh!tty legs". You know as well as I that my legs rock. So there. Nyah. :P

I pulled another shot of me with the wifebeater to underscore WHY I don't leave the house with and/or walk down the street wearing these. This is me posed normally I.E. without my arms spread like a bodybuilding mook. I wouldn't be wearing the beater with the black chef's pants you see, either. I'd be wearing a pair of very, very ancient and tattered Levis to show off my amazingly small tight derriere. Yeah, I can walk down the street in the spring and summer like this and wait on line at Whole Foods and NOT be gawked at like the freak I so proudly am. As if. I'd need body guards. I wish I could go back to being a mortal again. Pffft. Yeah, right.

Portrait of Herm. I downloaded photobooth to my computer last night. You'll notice the background is different than the usual. That's because I usually shoot on my wife's computer that has a less harsh more flattering light. I decided last night I was going to shoot a portrait of myself. I was going to get out of bed and leave my hair exactly the way it looks when I roll out of bed, and before I'm fully awake, take the one and only one picture and whatever it looks like, I am going to go with. The light is really harsh and unflattering and I haven't shaved or showered for two days and I am not making any "faces" or flexing in the slightest. This is me raw and close-up. I'm not thrilled with it, but I AM thrilled with the whole concept of doing a shot like this. Just call me Hermie Leibovitz. Incidentally, I still think I look more like a boy than a man. Maybe it's all in my head. I don't feel like a grown-up. If it hasn't happen by now it ain't never gonna' happen. My bullet necklace says "Leave your mark" on it which needs no explanation. Oh, I forgot to say something funny or amusing or lewd. Penis. I feel better now.

I forgot all about this little prick. I can't stand him. The only guys that I like (liked) in show business are/were Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis and Chuck Norris. I.E. Real men. We all have the same political bent. Coincidence? I don't think so. So...I'm going through the Drudge report and see a link to an article entitled: "Top 8 Most Coveted Celebrity Body Parts." http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/top-wanted-celebrity-body-parts-plastic-surgeons/story?id=9098776 One one the headers: Matthew McConaughey: Men's Most Wanted Abs. The folks who wrote this article choose this shot, as you can see by the link, NOT me. So please, I don't want to hear anything such as "Oh, that's not a good picture of him." This c0cksmoker gets paid millions and millions of dollars to look good FOR A LIVING. So do ALL the side by siders. So don't make excuses for my successes. If you want to make excuses, make them for yourself. Excuses don't go over well here. In fact, they don't go over at all.

Arty

Another possible shot

It's Sunday. Yup, I'm still the world's hottest 48 year old Jew. This site is also home to the world's hottest 40 year old Jew (no homo). It's a veritable Jewtopia, I tell ya'.

I wrote in my blog yesterday how I held up my razor blade necklace to the doctor and said "See this? See this Razor blade? It is a reminder to myself to always stay razor sharp. This time, next time, everytime, all the time." I wanted to snap a shot of myself to see how cocky I must have looked. Yup, pretty cocky. Cocky doody.

I just rolled out of bed and shot this with flat, available light. What were you expecting? Playgirl? Such Jewish body language. "Vat do you vant from my life?" I know the answer...Sex. I mean aside from that. Nothing? Okay, whatever.

I am no Grinch. Here is my Christmas present to all of you. From all of me (...And believe me when I tell you, there is a LOT) to all of you. Freshly rolled out of bed as yet to open up my Christmas presents. You can see a mere 5 of the many, many awards I have won for internationally outstanding creative, just over to the left of my right hand. Yes, I could look like Quasimodo and STILL have it going on...And a happy Jew year.