Thursday, January 18, 2007

Crap, about which I am thinking.

Last night I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep because I was thinking about Nip Tuck and body image. I was actually provoked to thought by an original FX series. This is almost as bad as the Sci-Fi Channel Original Mini-Series calamity.

In other news, I am very seriously considering getting the cortisone shot to my hurty foot. Apparently this hurts like the very Dickens. My coworker, who might I add has actually borne a child, said that this was the most incredibly painful thing ever. Advise.

Today I noticed a huge clump of animal fur on my butt. This is troubling because when there is a big clump of white/grey animal fur on black pants it stands out. Meaning that countless people have noticed, and did not mention anything because they did not want me to think they are butt looker-atters. And with all this dilemma, now they are not only butt looker-atters, they are now butt thinker-aboutters. If someone had brought this up, it would launch them into the butt trifecta: looker-atter, thinker-aboutters, and now talker-aboutters. Further, if someone tells you there is something on your butt, you immediately try to look at your own butt- which is not even possible. So now you are some freak turning around like a dog chasing its tail. Then you are a butt-brusher. And if you can't get whatever is on your butt off by blindly brushing, you need an assistant who is now a butt-toucher. Which is too much for me, at least in the workplace. After careful consideration, there is not one person I would like to have butt-touching with in my entire office. Perhaps in the satellite offices I could find someone, but there is simply not time for that sort of thing.

Not regarding butts, but as an interesting side note, I would like to welcome you to the gun show. My uncle and I, having viewed The Descent, determined that those skinny minnies couldn't do a single push-up, and definitely couldn't use cramp-ons (or whatever they're called) to climb across the top of a cave. In fact, I figured I could do more push ups than those nambi-pambies. Unfortunately unless they couldn't do any push ups, they could to more than me. I managed 1.5 push ups, which you may recognize as down, up, collapse. In the last 10 days I have been doing as many push ups as I can before bed. I am now up to 8 push ups. Last night I was brushing my teeth in a wifebeater and realized I had completely forgotten about the family arm curse. You'll be glad to know that I look like Pop-eye, post spinach, a washerwoman, or possibly a Marine. Surely there is some online fetish thing for this, so I should be wary.

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