A Thousand Words
I wanted to be fancy and write a well thought out post about my hate/hate/hate/hate relationship with the blue column of foam that exists in my home. My hostility toward the foam roller is legendary (to my neighbors who hear my nightly screams) which provides me with so much I could say. But you wouldn't understand any of it, as Rosetta Stone has yet to issue their language companion guide to the oft heard "Athletic Wailing" dialect.
Some say the foam roller is a "necessary evil." But NAY, I say it is the purveyor of puke, the root of disturbing guttural screeching and sudden, unanticipated shrieks. The generator and finder of sore spots I didn't know existed on my body. And quite possibly the cause of my neighbors calling the cops...mayhaps something that'll happen in the near future given the nightly melee reverberating off the four walls of my home.
But NAY, I could not come up with anything to say other than I LOATHE that which is designed to help...so to thee o' demon foam roller, I offer a pictorial collage of my contempt for you.