Gluteus Blisters Cute Girl Synchronicity....Insert Punctuation Marks As Required

I’m sore

No, really! Everything from my brachiius bracilli to my gluteus maximum

(say it with me: we who are about to fart oh great gluteus, salute you!).

So I finally did work out and at one point was ready to hurl the albeit miniscule contents of my squashed stomach (maybe I should write an ode to fatty deposits: Oh fat, they say beauty is skin deep but thou runneth way under, no longer superficial but subcutaneous)

But yeah, everyone tells me there is something satisfying about working out and something vague about a tight feeling you get all over.

Meh? me stumbling out of the gym wondering why my coccyx hurt so much and I am supposed to feel satisfied? Look here, the inner Garfield finds as much satiation in worshipping the Bed God as you speak of. But I guess there is a pot of gold at the end of this sweaty rainbow (god know what it is)

But see, its bad enough my lower back, upper back, chest, arms, calvesthighshamstrings hurt, my fingers have blisters! (Okay, so this is said more in the tone that Stewie adopts in one episode of Family Guy where he is mashing on the banjo and yells ‘I got blisters on me fingers!’, I guess the banjo-playing-hick equivalent of a drummer throwing his sticks in the air) but yeah, I got blisters on me finger baby!
So I got a third of the guitar alphabet down – E, C and D…and the minors…hmm, I wonder what song I can mash out using three chords?

And lets see what else I managed to accomplish this glorious Tuesday morning (please, sarcasm doesn’t translate well over the internet). I did make my zillionth list of things I have to get done.
I so wish that doing something was the same as writing it down under the heading ‘To Do’…I would be king

But yes – today, must plan out trip to Amsterdam. I guess I am just loathe to go alone but well, will try and make the most of it. Also, I must book my ticket to New York…the concert and new laptop await.

And yes, managed to act like a moron:
(paraphrasing here)
Hobo: woke up late today, but then AB called at 5am
Me: oh yeah, I got a call at 2am as well but I didn’t recognize the number…it was xxx
Hobo: no, that’s not her number so prolly wasn’t her
Me: well, she could have called me
Hobo: “hai bhagwan” don’t be a baby

Well, she could have?!

Oh fine so she didn’t…found in an email from her that she didn’t call

Humph

Also read this girls blog, met her I believe two weekends ago, ah yes, the weekend from hell. Anyway, is cute and writes political stuff and is flirty as hell…

The new me: oh no no no no, don’t make me hit you again
Me : dude, wtf?!
The new me: we decided to concentrate on other things this year or have you forgotten
Me: oh fine…besides, it was just a thoug…
The new me: no more thoughts, capiche?
Me: yeah but…
The new me: no but’s, just one, yours, is maximus
Me: oh fine!

Sorry, went off on a side conversation

And I think habitation with the Hobo is bringing our wavelengths into weird synchronicity here:
Hobo: I almost told him today we cant be friends
Me: I told her (the Ex) we cant be friends

Me: I never knew what he was saying, did he say the word fuck coz I don’t think he cusses in any of his other songs
Hobo: I was thinking the same thing, I refused to accept that he cussed

If either of us have the same thought at the same time again, someone do something, one of us is enough for the world and I refuse to accept the argument that just because she is a few days older, I’m the one who will be offed