My wife likes to think that in the confines of our home I can’t say what I feel about various people (including idiots) that I meet on a day to day basis. When she hits me (physical spousal abuse) or yells at me (verbal spousal abuse) I reply that she has no authority to legislate morality in the home.
Big ups to the Old Man for making that point for me.
I went to the herr doktor yesterday to get a physical. It was my first real physcial since I was in 7th or 8th grade, probably. I had the mandatory sports physical that you needed to play RUSD sports, but that didn’t include blood work or testicular fucking exams. So yesterday I go to get a physical, and after the exam was over and I was just standing around in my boxers, the doctor was like, “you know you’re overweight, right?” Well, I knew I was, but I never heard someone just come out and say it. I guess that’s what a doctor’s job is; he tells you when you start to resemble more a beanbag than a human. “Lay off the butter,” he tells me. “Try not to inhale Spicy Doritos,” says he. So I’m like, “how much should I weigh?” He says, “Well, what are you right now… 220? You should probably be around 165.” “Holy fuck,” I thought to myself. “Hmm,” I said aloud.
So according to Doctor, I should be weighing somewhere in the nighborhood of Wirkuswhazz, rather than in the neighborhood of Scientist’s torso.
It’s gonna be a long year.