New Year's party tonight. Not staying too late. We're an old married couple. And, please, no drama.
I'll run around (by that I mean sprint) or something tonight when I get home. It's not the same as picking up heavy things, but it's something. Probably too icy to sprint. There's always the medicine ball and parallettes.
I've been bored, so I've been vaguely following the recent stuff that's happened to Greg Everett, the guy who wrote the book on Olympic weightlifting that I use. He apparently used to be somehow affiliated with "Crossfit" and they recently kicked him out, to his benefit, because they are douches. Anyway, this led me to finding a bunch of rather hilarious mockeries of "Crossfitters", who tend to be self-aggrandizing douches who work out shirtless and wear board shorts (the video doesn't make sense, really, unless you know anything about "Crossfit" and its often ludicrously self-important followers (barooo doesn't fit the description)). Seriously, though, who cares? It's all nonsense. I don't have the second edition of his book, but I should.
I used to be married to a joke account called "The Sea" on facebook. I no longer am so for obvious reasons and recently allowed a friend to marry it. I should probably change the e-mail address out to one of his so he can control the account. I made the account last year at about this time. Ah, good memories.
I am almost done with Emma.
We finally looked at wedding photos last night. Good stuff. My hair is almost always mussed, however. I knew I should have used some product or something. And the photographers wanted us to get all kissy and shit. Dammit, our kids will see these things. Fortunately, the wedding day is the only day one ever seems to be required to do anything like that.
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