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Had a little too much fun (read: alcohol) last night. Young, hot babes were all literally over me and I was quite flattered until I realized that I had stumbled upon H.C.C. (Hooker Control Central in The Aladdin). Then I was saddened as I must have looked to them like a geek that could not otherwise score. One "working girl" soothed my fears by telling me that I "reeked" of money and I was happy again. Ah, the fragile male ego... But I digress.
Anyway, to pay my physical karmic debt, I decided to go for a run. Now let me set the background: I am old, heavy, hungover, loathe running (like I go maybe once a year) and more importantly, I have no health insurance. Yep, just got back from a non-stop 3-miler in the blistering desert heat (112F!). Now I won't say that my pace was like lightning; to even call it plodding would be an insult to turtles everywhere. To an impartial observer, I might even have appeared to be stationary or drifting backwards (damn you to hell, Einstein); yet as my mass felt like it was approaching infinity, perhaps I was going quite fast. The point of this thread (as if there ACTUALLY is one) is on the relative merits of setting a goal and applying mental discipline and (stupidly) ignoring all obstacles. (That line may have stayed the moderator's delete finger, I dunno...)
So am I ready for the senior olympics or the looney farm? you be da judge.
maybe you should go for the swimming... then go for the tred milll... then for the road! you nut case(jk). You arent going to get up unless you think you can. You got to get your spirit to move your ass man... maybe you should dance more often. . wait.. wait... that may be a little out of your league... JK!