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From my little brain
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Content is paramount.
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[7/23/2004]
If there was a movie made about me, I believe it would be titled: Natural Born Loser.
I feel like such a heel sometimes. I don't know what is it about life that seems to beat me down. Maybe it's not even that bad, but my low tolerence for bad situations seem to always get the best of me. Take for example last Sunday. So I'm over at House X, and Double M is once more giving his famous massages to ChocoDog. I mean, literally, sprawled on the carpet, and she's screaming "Oh gawd, yes. Oh! Yes! That feels so good. Oh. My. Gooooooood. I just lose it, and punch the nearest object to me, which happens to be the treadmill handle. Crack goes my knuckles, and they begin to hurt. I'm sure I didn't break a bone, since I'm typing to you now at my usual breakneck speed of 30 wpm, however, they are swollen, and it is an obvious bone bruise. (Or is that cartilage?) Anyway, for the rest of the week, my hands are sore, but you know why? Because everyday, I've been working on the heavy back at the local work gym, hammering away with all I've got, trying to dent it, to knock it over, something. And everyday, my right hand hurts more and more. I don't enjoy pain. I'm not some masochistic weirdo who thrives on hurting myself. I don't even know why I do it, except to see if I can push myself beyond that limit where one wants to absolutely cry in utter pain. I want to see if punching it enough will somehow dull the pain that already throbs at my knuckle like a lighthouse beacon in the night. Maybe I'm strange. I probably am. Nix that. I know I am. I'm not some sicko who enjoys hurting others mind. Please don't be afraid of me. I won't punch you. On a softer note, I was able to do a minute and a half of arm circles. And yes, I nearly passed out in pain. Thanks. ....Not even if your name was Double M.
[7/22/2004]
My name is losir, and I'm an idiot-holic.
Hi losir. Hi. It's been 23 hours, 45 minutes, and 27 seconds since I've done something idiotic. I try to live with it 1 minute at a time, but it's hard. Like yesterday. For dragonboat practice I was bugging about how I didn't and couldn't do three minutes of arm circles. So the coach said, "Okay, I'll give you a choice. You either do three minutes of arm circles with the rest of the group, or do eighty continuous push-ups." Anyway, eighty push-ups later, I'm thinking maybe the three minute arm circles may have been more prudent. Then again maybe not. I really hate arm circles. My poor old rotator cuffs just can't handle the strain. ....The 19 chin ups afterwards didn't help any either.
[7/21/2004]
Have you ever taken a reall cool picture that you couldn't share with the internet world?
Sucks, doesn't it? And it isn't even remotely obscene or vulgar in anyway. It's totally legitimate and everything. Even the subject is "G" rated. But you know what? I know better than to post it. I'm very anal about posting pictures of my friends these days, because most of them hate it when I do. So I've decided that if I happen to have my friends in the picture, they will get a copy, I will have a backup on my CD, and then forever let it lie. Which totally irritates me. This is a really good picture, and captures the moment like an elephant who never forgets. ....Pity.
[7/20/2004]
I'm an underdog kind of guy.
I'm the guy who loves to see the other little guy make it. I'm the kinda person who goes rootin' tootin' for the bunch who shouldn't have won, who shouldn't have made it so far, who no one gave odds to. So I'm a little embarassed when people in the gym see me doing weights right in lifting. I'm a little bashful when I work-in with people and I double their weights. I like the idea that I'm the skinniest guy in the gym trying to better myself through blood, sweat, and tears. Okay, maybe no blood, and I don't like crying. Wait, I don't sweat much either, save running. You know what I'm trying to say though. Like today. The three of us were doing peck-decks when one guy says "Geez, you're doing my body weight." The embarassing thing to me was that I hadn't even maxed out. There were another 20 pounds to go. ....Popped my shoulder though, now it hurts like snot.
There's an infestation of bugs in my bathroom. What is with me and bugs??
There's these little flying critters swarming all over the ceiling, only found in the bathroom upstairs. They're not flies nor mosquitos. Just some flying bug. Very annoying. One day I couldn't take it anymore, so I started killing them. Looking up on the ceiling I saw about 8 or 9 of these buggers. Grabbing a hand towel, I started flicking them to death like an assassin with a sniper rifle. Ping, slap, thwap. Die, die, die! Thinking my job was done, I merrily walked out of the bathroom. In the last two days, I've killed maybe 30 of them suckers, and they keep coming. ....I dread tomorrow.
[7/19/2004]
A fairly non-exciting but yet fun filled weekend nonetheless.
Saturday: Darknights international for some riced cars and hoochie women. Woooooo! Sunday: Mosport International Raceway for Canadian Superbike Races. Brunch BBQ at Narc_ca's house. I was the idiot that was two hours late, at which time they were all pretty much done. ....You can't keep a good moron down.
[7/18/2004]
Wow, ever had your dream crushed in the span it takes to click two links?
Maybe I'm just fragile like that. Blogging about it won't help much. ....Nor will sleeping in the fetal position under the covers, but I'm going to try anyway. |