The rumours are true: it seems I'm getting married. And soon. In four months. I have to get this stuff wrapped up.
The bastards at the gym. They closed off all the lifting platforms for remodelling. I knew I should've read into the implications of the note in the newsletter that they were getting a couple new ones. I should ask how long until they are open again. The answer had better not be the end of summer. The answer had better be within a week. Otherwise I will get weak and die. It was so pathetic, coming in from the rain, seeing the platforms roped off, and having no idea what to do. I mean, I guess there were benches and pullup bars. Otherwise, it's all a bunch of foreign machines I have no knowledge of using, nor any desire to do so. Levers and weird shit. No way I'm touching that. So I went home, played with a medicine ball a little bit. Then met with the photographer.
It's wet outside. It's been raining so long. I forgot to close my window again. The rain isn't a problem, it's only open a couple inches, but they're tuckpointing today...
I put my trousers on two legs at a time. I use a two-legged jumping-in system. It's wild. So whenever anybody uses the phrase, "He puts his trousers on one leg at a time..." about anybody, I interject and point out that I, for one, do not. It makes me awesome.
You know what I don't like? Cads.
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