There’s only two things I hate: the current political discourse in America, and coughing up blood. Lately I’ve been hating the latter much more than the former, however. It’s been one long week of hell for me with this sickness, and I’m just about ready to go to the doctor now.
Getting back to work is about as good as something like that’s gonna be. Every day I look forward to 5pm when the whistle blows outside of my office and I can slide down a brontasaurous tail to my car. When I arrive at home I’m always in for a nice surprise of Scientist getting high and GMC and Erin making dinner. This groove is starting to take on an amazingly rut-like appearance. I’ve made an executive decision to switch things up a bit starting this weekend:
1.) Go out on Friday and/or Saturday night. GMC’s first weekend in Cali would not be complete without a celebratory night at the Cinnabar.
2.) Starting Monday night, get back into playing league basketball. Who cares if we win or lose? Not me. I just want to run around and be not fat.
3.) Get back into the gym and get diet back to “Not Just Pizza and Taquitos” mode.
4.) More fruit. More veggies.
5.) More sushi for lunch.
Remember my resolution about getting to work before 9:30am? Yeesh. That ain’t gonna happen. I hereby retroactively dismiss it.
We received our last load of gifts that we shipped to ourselves from Wisconsin today. The heart does a flippity-flop every time the heart receives such awesome-in-the-face-of-God boxes as ones filled with bedsheets, a glass plate, and no less than 10 candles, infused with the very essences of elves and singing bass fish themselves so as to convey their magical contents. I like to receive gifts. I like EVEN more, perhaps by a factor of 10 to 12, to receive good gifts. I wish I had received the Aqua Teen Hunger Force DVD for xmas. The mooninites rock.
Yesterday at Best Buy, while perusing the aisles of useless shit, I found something that stood out among the shit: Tenacious D: The Complete Masterworks. It has a live concert on it, plus ALL of the HBO episodes, plus all the music videos, plus a bunch of other psycho fan shit. If it had Heat Vision & Jack it would be the greatest DVD ever pressed, but even without it comes close.
–whazz on mamacitas