My nerdy, little roommate was explaining to me that bodybuilders have to be smart. The body, he explained, doesn’t want to change from its natural size. I said, ‘Well if that’s so, then prove it. You are the smartest person I know. I’ll believe you if you look like a bodybuilder in a year. You want to date me? Look like a bodybuilder in a year or less and I am yours!’ Of course I always wanted a bodybuilder to date. He took me up on the bet and almost immediately I noticed his muscles swelling up. Every week he was quite a bit bigger than the week before. He’d accidentally rip out of his clothes just by moving his arm the wrong way. I asked him how he was doing one day. He brought me to a whiteboard in the garage to explain his development, blah, blah, blah… I looked at everything and said that we were only four months into our bet. I grabbed one of his massive arms and said, “We are only a third of the way into our bet and already you have won. Bodybuilders are better with hyper intellect.” He easy picked me up with one hard, powerful hand that felt like it was cast out of rough concrete. “I’m looking at my prize! I’m going to keep growing, I want to be a giant now and I have worked out the formula. Why don’t you go inside and clean yourself up? I need to dominate my tribute slave!” I joyfully ran inside ready to do as I was ordered!