Monday, December 7, 2009


No, Tiger Woods's (that's correct,even if it looks stupid) rampant affairs didn't inspire me to write again after 3 months. (It was boredom.) But, now that the body count is up to 9, I have to say, really? I mean, the story almost made sense when he had a longstanding affair with that Rachel girl. Ok, you have your girl when you're traveling and it's wrong and all, but it's only one. I'm expecting the headline on CNN tomorrow to be: PALIN COMES CLEAN: "I SLEPT WITH TIGER". I would actually believe it. If it was on Drudge, I'd definitely believe it. That brings me to my next point: if I ever get ridiculously famous, I just won't get married. "But you could have a Swedish model!" Yeah, but after having pussy thrown at me every day, I'd eventually break down. It's like an alcoholic going sober and then having a bottle of booze delivered to your door every day. And the booze is smoking hot.

I think holidays are just an excuse to do something that's not acceptable during any other part of the year.
Christmas: you can have a tree in your house and drink egg nog
Halloween: dress in silly costumes
Easter: laugh mercilessly as your children fail at finding eggs hidden in the floor boards
July 4th: blow stuff up
Mother's Day: call home (kidding! I love you mom!)

So i did some cardio after I lifted today and noticed that my body would barely move. You know how you're exhausted after playing a football game and your body just has nothing left? That was minute 2. Then I realized that I was hungover half of yesterday and barely ate. I hate it when Biochem works in the real world.

I love fantasy football. There's really no funny comment that goes with this, I just really like it.
Other things I enjoy: ice cream, waking up in the middle of the night and thinking my alarm when off but it's really 4am and I get to sleep more, snow on trees, the day after going out seeing someone that was out with me and both of our immediate reactions are to laugh, fireworks, fire in general, girls working out in tights, Bill Simmon's mailbag.

So I have a random level of control over my dreams. Not like I can break out a Hatori Hanzo sword whenever I feel like it, but I've started to notice when something doesn't make sense, so then I realize I'm dreaming. Since that's been happening, my subconscious has then had me "wake up" but I'll still be dreaming. I feel like my mind is playing a practical joke on me. And my only retaliation is to get super wasted and fall asleep. Then not only is my physical brain terrorized by 10 shots of Wild Turkey, but my unconscious has to deal with thoughts of dragons wearing hockey helmets.

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