I’m just about sick of being examined. Yesterday was my first doctor’s visit in two years, and my first physical in about three years. Contrary to the sage advice of my friend Jenny, I did not have my pap smeared (ew, ew, ew). Rose-Hulman requires a battery of tests, however, including (and this surprised even my doctor), an exercise test, in which the doc measures your resting pulse, then you jog in place for a minute, then your pulse is measured again immediately after, then again two minutes later. But all in all, the exam went well. Apparently, there is nothing to be done about the icky sac of fluid…

La, la, la… So singing isn’t my forte. Don’t be hatin’. The link is from George’s new site, Negrophile (in particular, this entry).

Sometimes I wish that someone could forcibly ban me from using all communications devices after, say, midnight. Almost an entire post dedicated to the sexiness of certain pirates, complete with bad, sick jokes? Ugh. It’s kinda funny in a “Dear god, I wrote that?!” type of way, so it stays. Who needs alcohol/drugs to fuck them up? Just learn to get a bad case of the giggles when you’re tired, and you’re a walking entertainment center. And it’s much worse in person than in writing, I assure you. I found myself watching the History Channel today (which is not an odd phenomenon in and of itself), and in particular a…

I went to see me some sexy pirates tonight. That is, of course, a reference to the movie Pirates of the Caribbean (I never know which movie site is best to link to, so I shall link to none). Those are some damn sexy pirates. Oh, and the lady was pretty, too, so the hetero guys and lesbians and… folks who dig chicks won’t be too bored with all that fighting. For some reason, I think Johnny Depp is such an amazing actor. He’s one of those that can play (and has) in such a variety of roles very damned well. He played the goofy pirate in Pirates of the…

I swear, there are few things more encouraging for someone in a weight-lifting slump than to read about someone else’s success, and admittedly, struggles. Hell, weight-lifting is about struggle. My only problem is a general frustration with the slowness of my progress. About four years ago, I began a weight-lifting routine, following my father’s suggestions and instructions on how to do the exercises (he used to “geek” about weight-lifting himself, with tons of books and years of experience; plus, we have similar body types, so, with the exception of the difference in upper-body potentials, he could teach me a lot). The difference in only a couple months, which was how…