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Palisades Park :: posted by August :: 4/25/2004

I told a few buddies of mine, but I didn't tell everyone. Friday my doctor declared me "healed", though he would like a follow-up in two months just to be sure. I'm cleared to drive and perform physical activity, though nothing heavy until I've built up muscle again. I just got back from three hours in my apartment complex's pool. I have to study for a test, I have an essay due tomorrow which is still in rough draft form and needs "cleaning", I have to work on a big paper due in about three weeks. School's winding down but it's going out with a bang. But I didn't give a shit, because I could actually do things. This is the first time in eleven months I went out of my way to exercise. That I sat down and said "You know, I should do some exercise". I couldn't do pushups without using my leg. Situps were a pain when I first tried them and I didn't really try them again. I had almost accepted it as a fact of life that I couldn't do anything, that I was to be as sedentary as possible and I should prop up my leg at every opportunity (even while on the comp - it's comical to see my leg stretched out and propped up on the edge of my bed while I'm at my computer desk casually playing Warcraft III). And now I'm free, back to normal, all done. I didn't realize how out of shape I've gotten. I used to be able to hold my breath under water for two minutes and wouldn't get tired unless I had done a whole day of nonstop swimming. When I went to Hawaii a few years ago I swimmed almost out of the bay I was in and almost got yoinked away by riptide. Today I got tired after 10 minutes. So I'm committing myself to exercise every night. Meh. That's all I got.

"I could thank you, but it's Sunday, so I'm gonna thank the Jesus instead" :: posted by August :: 3/21/2004

Well, here's my first rant. I'm going to piss and moan like a blogger. I hope Something Awful spoofs this site just so I can hate myself more. Heh. Okay. Let's bitch about my private hell! I live with two other guys, James and Jason. Both of the aforementioned guys are 1) fiscally irresponsible and 2) annoying and tactless. Let's start with number one. Let's dwell on number one. Jason owes me roughly 500 dollars right now. James owes me 700 dollars. I had to lend my grandmother 3000 dollars, which she'll pay me back in a few months, but if people did not owe me money I would sleep well knowing I can take care of my share of the rent, without the use of fictional money. This money was lent with the idea that I had extra money, which has proceeded to disappear. Attention, my Republican roommates, here's the proof that deficit spending does not work. I cannot tell the electric company that I'll pay them later and ask them to spot me 20 for lunch for this week. I respectfully decline the invitation to join your group hallucinations. Okay, I think that's one. Let's hit two. James is damaged goods. He's attention hungry, like I was when I was 10. Any attempt to point this out to him will result in him acknowledging the problem then awkwardly attempting to change the subject. He isn't exactly a chauvinist but let's just say that even when he's got a girlfreind he bhlatantly ogles everything which walks. We live in Orange County; there's plenty of attractive women here, and the way he acts is practically disgraceful. Justification for yelling at women that they're hot: "Women like being complemented". Yes, hearing some thug in a Saturn driving by at 40 mph screaming "YOU'RE HOT" is going to make their self esteem skyrocket, it's a public service that the American taxpayers should be paying for. His advocation for the use of alcohol as a means of "loosening up" is the most stereotypically stupid 20something drivel I've ever heard - I guess he didn't get the memo that life is not like Dazed and Confused. And Jason. First of all, he is an epitome of bad hygene. He saves money on laundry by not washing pants - "That's what Febreeze is for". Red Mage lied to you. Febreeze cannot stop your ass odor. WASH YOUR FUCKING PANTS. He keeps two monts of clothes and washes them all in one run, and that means by the end of week two his laundry pile is a festering mass of odor that cannot be sustained by normal humans. He does no other chore save the trash; when he spills something or fails to clean something up, it remains there until I clean it up. And then he wonders why I refrain from having company over. Not to mention the fact that Jason will talk anyone to death about irrelevant crap; and any sign that he should stop is interpreted by his brain as "Just talk louder". Quatre has been giving me invitations to move to Kansas. That sounds better every day. No, I'm serious.

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