Some of you may have noticed my dearth of columns lately. Most of you probably have not. In fact, if you have noticed my dearth of columns, you most likely have less of a life than 99% of the people on earth (sorry to break the news to you.) Well, the dearth can be attributed almost entirely to the fact that I have been busy on the Quest for 300. This quest was referenced in one of Clay's previous columns, and I wanted to expound a bit.

Let's be honest – I haven't accomplished much in my life. Sure, I was a decent athlete back in my day. I graduated college and law school. And, I have picked up some pretty hot chicks. I guess you could say I've had a decent run here in my first 26 years. But, I have never done anything that your average person on the street would say, "Dammit, I wish I could do that." Well, I'm on the cusp of it, boys. I'm so close to bench pressing 300 pounds that I can taste the chalk.

My weightlifting life has gone like this: weak (ages 14-17); moderately strong for a thin man (17-19); strong, but not that strong considering I was kind of fat (19-21); just plain fat (22-26); and present. At present, I've decided to concentrate solely on what I call "bouncer muscles." In other words, if you can build big "bouncer muscles" – chest, shoulders, biceps – you can be a respectable bouncer at a mid-sized alcohol-serving establishment. Now, you'd have to have freakish "bouncer muscles" to chuck people out of Rain, but a 300-pound bench will get you a respectable bouncer position at a decent bar in a mid-major metropolitan area. So, that's what I set out to do (to bench 300, not to become a bouncer). Hence, the Quest for 300.

The Quest for 300 began about eight or ten months ago. My girlfriend had dumped me (shocker), and I wanted to go pick up hot chicks. But, to do so, I could not be fat anymore. I had to turn fat back into muscle, so I re-joined the rec center at school and began back on the lifting routine. Now, remember that I was doing these lifting sessions solo, so I couldn't push the heavy weights too much. There's nothing worse than getting pinned on bench without a spot and requiring some 110 pound Kappa to bail you out. So, I never pushed it too much. I made it up to about 250 without a spot, and I was happy. But, still, in the back of my mind, I wondered whether I could get the golden 3-bills.

Then, Clay moved back to town, and I had a spot. (Granted, he's not much of a spot, even with those massive triceps. Okay, maybe he's the only one who thinks his triceps are huge.) The first few times, I pushed it up around 275 without much trouble. Then, a couple weeks ago, I got 290 without any help. Three-hundred was now in my grasp. That's where I stand now. I'm almost there.

There's only one problem. Since school is out, no one is going to be around to see three thrown up. The rec center is dead over Christmas break. Only a few groups of people will see it, namely:

It is a little disappointing that this sorry collection of peeps will be the only rec center diehards who will see me attempt 300 in the coming weeks. I wish it would come at a time when the rec center is packed to the gills with hot chicks, but I can't let the chance pass me by. I may never be this close to 300 again. So, picture this – Foreign Dudes, Old People, Ripped Black Dude, and Random Hot Chick all gathered around me, three hundred big ones on the bar, Clay in position to flex his triceps if anything goes wrong…

Stay tuned.