I should just stick to drinking…

… it would be easier and I would enjoy it a hell of a lot more.

I am doing this “Me 2.0” effort to try to get into shape, not just loose some weight but really get physically fit. And I have decided to say fooey with it.

First off “healthy” food taste like stale ass. Conclusion on that is that good tasting food = bad for you. So I can eat crappy tasting food so that I can live longer to eat even more crappy tasting food. Makes perfect sense to me here in crazy world. You make buffalo wings that taste good and are healthy and I am all over that.

Oh Jesus H. Tap-dancing Christ, try to cut out sugar and carbs and still eat people food. Im-freaking-possible! You might as well just eat grass.

And if the food changes weren’t enough, I am damn tired of being sore. Seriously, it’s insane. And I can’t believe that I am about to say this but my damn taint is sore. That’s right the area between my sack and my hole hurts. The really messed up part is that I actually know why. It’s because I have a mountain bike. You see, I have not ridden a bicycle in 20 years or so, so I don’t pedal standing up all of the time… or that much at all. Maybe going up hills some. And it’s all because of this damn “great” Lance Armstrong designed seat or some crap like that which I bought for the bike. You see it’s got this hole in the middle of it with this hard molded plastic all around the hole that, that, well, it hits right there. Sorry you got ball cancer and all that Lance, but I need a damn pad there.

And to top it all off I pulled a muscle in my lower back in some sort of freaky cosmic planet aligning way. I was putting. That’s right putting a golf ball. Don’t get me wrong, it was a sweet 9-footer with a decent left to right break, nailed it in one putt. But the freaky thing is that I have literally spent hours practicing putting, so it’s not like this is the first time that I have picked up a putter.

So anyway, one mountain bike for sale, 50 bucks, or may trade for some booze and buffalo wings.