Pan-handled in the Loop

I've worked in Chicago going on three years now. Some of my fondest moments are of helping others in this city. However, let's be honest making the same commute and seeing the same pan-handlers in the same spot for years is an odd social commentary.

The best pan handler out there is the musical pan-handler. Now conventional wisdom says, if one is going to show they're really seriously in need, forgo the string section and hit up the brass or woodwind section. I fear that someday I may be a father and my child will want to have music lessons. No problem as long as they stay away from the saxophone. There seems to be only 2 paths of the saxophone; jam band member or headlining during rush hour on a bridge or under it for that matter.

I walked by a guy jamming the 'Bear down Chicago Bears' song on the sax and it was a nice touch to a long work day. It was getting cold as the sun set but no excuses, he did stumble a bit. Now he's telling us that not only does he need cash, a job, and a warm place to stay, but some lessons wouldn't hurt either. By far, the best musical pan-handler in Chicago is on the Madison Street bridge from about 4-6p. He rocks out on a couple drums. Seeing the state of our economy, I will never judge one's perspective on what qualifies as a legitimate 'investment opportunity.' Odds are his returns will be ten fold to any social security for my generation.

Yesterday I found myself in an odd position. I was cashing a check. I went in to a bank and felt like it was 1997 again. The 'personal bankers' at Chase are pacing around worse than a shady car salesman. As I am endorsing the check I am approached by an elderly woman who rocks my world. 'Can you spare a dollar?' Wait did I just get pan-handled in a bank? In a bank? Either you're oblivious or an innovator. It makes perfect sense to me. Everyone says 'sorry, I don't have any change.' When you ask them right at the ATM what else can we say besides 'I'm sorry I don't have...well I guess I don't care.'

Stronger than Volcanic Rock

Yesterday I took up the offer of an very expensive tennis club to let me join morning cardio tennis class for free. What a work out. I know I'm in need of cardio help when the warm up cashes me out. I had a blast and did pretty well I must say.

During the session we did drills and some basic games that were flashbacks to high school tennis. What's great is that the rest of the regulars know each other and may be able to out skill me most of the time. Enter my overhead smash. Nothing like seeing older people take steps back as I wind up to make them dance like a cliche western movie scene.

The end of the class had the pro paired with me and I smashed the winning point. Don't worry I'll told my parents already of my awesomeness. I was happy to end on a winner but then looked to see that I have cracked/bent my racket on both sides of the face. I'd like to think the good people at Wilson make quality rackets at all levels and that I perhaps am too strong for "volcanic formula" rackets. Where do I go now? What's stronger that a composite from magma? Maybe Wilson is making rackets out of recycled spaceships? I could certainly take Apollo rackets to new levels on the amateur scene.

I am in awe that such physical domination was displayed at 8:00am after Christmas, without my sweatband set. I and my ego now look for the next challenge to break us. Not likely knowing a "Wonder Years" marathon is out of the question.

Adults for Sledding Equality

I am entering my third consecutive year where I see myself leading a cause that many ignore. Typically every January I gather about a 6-10 friends to go sledding at a big ol' hill. Sounds pretty great? Yeah it's something amazing. See the beauty about sledding as a kid is the thrill of hitting a bump catching air but there's was a problem for my generation. We were not fat kids.

Now that I have more than a healthy body mass I can pick up speeds that rival my 4th grade fastball speeds. I'm talking some sick speeds. I hear kids wishin' they could ride like me, be heavy like me, wipe snot on their gloves like me. Fools.

The problem is that my friends and I are always the only people who can drive themselves to the hill without any kids. Who needs kids to have a good time? Huh? When did we get to a point in our lives where we said you know what would be great about this nostalgia? Throwing in some little money pit that hounds attention worse than I do. Not on my watch. When the AWOKs (Adults With Out Kids) go out we know how to steal the show.

Kids want to be us, parents want to be with us.

Sh!t or Get Off the Pot

One of the wisest things ever said to me was my dad once saying "if you don't make a decision, life will make it for you." Pretty impressive seeing as his advice while growing up seemed to be peppered like Leap Year. I push onward through the final days of me being a socially screw up. The 20s are all about making mistakes so adults say. That being said, on behalf of my generation I feel it's safe to say we're screwed.

I have a friend that I swear is my personal Benjamin Button. I don't get to hang out much anymore with him and the stories I hear are regressing in the social norms we used to reach to do. I won't be surprised if I get to see photos on Facebook of his fort made in his parents' basement with bedsheets. I would also be the most jealous of that nonsense.

My family is molting layers of responsibilities worse than the tragic night scene in Gremlins. There comes a point where the adult table of life thins itself out and there's room to bring in a newbie. Someone that will refresh the cycle of errors and give the sigh of relief to the predecessors for they weren't wrong, it's a right of passage.

That's what maybe is the toughest pill. Failing to follow the path worn by other is a mistake, for whom I won't know until I admit I'm done.

Sweet Sweet Music

There is something special when it comes to those that are unfortunately down on their luck. They have most likely gone through some of the toughest things I can only imagine. I really wish I had the time to understand what happened but to be frank, that's just too idealistic and we all know that only works on English class essays.

What is it about while losing it all that we grab one thing to be the cornerstone of our new foundation? If your house were to burn down what would you grab? So to speak. Outside from my dog, an tangible item I would take from my house? Probably a copy of my home owner's insurance policy.

When you walk the streets of a major city in the winter time it's depressing at times. There are so many people on the streets without a place to turn. However, there are people in this situation that have a sense of humility that is just fantastic. The homeless musicians of America.

Is the saxophone the unofficial instrument of the homeless community? Perhaps people should be a bit more leery when their kid is in jazz ensemble. You know sweetie, if you hit the bricks, the rush hour commute sure will love to hear this alto sax. I guess that's the thing being said when your kid picks an instrument;
guitar- "I need all the help I can to get laid."
piano- "I can't say no to you mother."
saxophone- "isn't it cool under this viaduct?"


As much as people in Chicago rave about bland groups like Wilco, I'd much rather spend $20 and see the kids outside the Art Institute rock on with the drum buckets.

Where's the Love?

It's that time of year again where we all bundle up next to each other as we walk by the homeless guy with the Starbucks cup. I like the holidays, kind of. There used to be a time where they were a lot of fun. Then I became the one who doesn't have kids and now I shuttle all over to view the effectiveness of fertility in my family.

Kids are great*. What is magical about kids is that they don't care if they are playing with an expensive toy or shooting rubber bands at each other they just want attention. What is really magical about kids is how they bring out the compromises in their parents. As an innocent bystander I realize that when you're a parent you give everything you can for your kids, otherwise you're an asshole. No really, I believe that if you go to bed at night thinking "wow, that wasn't too bad" while raising kids you probably aren't raising them. There is a nice trade off about having the kids and that's training them to be little house cleaners.

As I go to half a dozen homes this holiday season, I know there will be one key question on everyone's mind. "Where's the ring?" See, people are happy to see people together but like a tv show this shit has to keeping progressing. I am at the point in my relationship where people are wondering...well...when...Settle down people. The way that it's not cool to ask a fat lady when she is due or an old person if they have chosen their retirement home, don't ask when a couple is getting married.

Some may look at it with a BS sports metaphor of talking to the pitcher during a no-hitter. No. It's just none of your damn business. Since when are people excited to put sack up $150 for a country club dinner. The best person asking me about my relationship is my dad. I am almost thirty and he still hasn't given me "the talk." So when he wants to know if I am to sh!t or get off the pot he just asks "So how's that goin'?" Effective in his own way.

Another field condition is the blocker. I lost my blocker. The blocker is the couple in the family who is "ahead" of you in the line of engagement/marriage. You can tell they are doing a great job when you get out of a family outing only hearing about it once or twice. Who runs out of a single back formation? A jackass that's who.

It's going to be hard to not get knocked on my ass.

Flying Popes - Week1

I had a goal of mine since graduating high school. Play football better than I did freshman year. Fortunately for me I set the bar as low as possible back in the day. As I approach the third decade of my life I realize that I am finally hitting my stride, as a consistently sufficient rec sport player.

My friend asked recently for me to join a co-ed flag football team. I jumped at the chance to prove to myself and dad that I was under utilized in freshman football. Last week was game 1 and for not ever playing together we did well.

We are the Flying Popes.

Upon walking to the first offensive huddle we really made a big stride. "Who's QB?" See with that type of open communication how could we not triumph in our first game? Well, it appears that our opponents were well versed in each other's talents. The popes learned on the fly.

I may have pulled off the award for most body surface covered in Under Armor. We found ourselves down at the half and with no statistian available for us, perhaps as many penalty yards as offensive yards. We do have great defense, except on the two score we let up but hey, it's rec league.

I was honored to be QB for a portion of the game. You know there's a filter missing when you explain a play via "Madden" experience. Based on that the team is looking forward to my dynasty model I boasted at half time. I did geek out so much about this season I went and geared up. New cleats (oversized bc I am too susceptible to Marshall's prices) and under armor pants and long sleeve were donned as I looked like someone who frankly, knew what he was doing. Wrong. If you buy one thing the wrong size, don't make it the shoes. I was sliding around before I picked up my feet.

We eventually scored but it wasn't enough to win (20-7). There is something wonderful about this game. It's great to have people support you blindly to run or scramble and then immediately understand that you weren't embellishing when I said I run like a donkey.

Flag football allows us to run around like a bunch of kids at recess and then go get beer. Where is there a problem with this? I see an epic game one fine evening when an early winter storm drops snow on our turf. My only hope is to get enough notice for a camera crew.

Fair but tough questions

I think there is so much going on in across the globe let alone the land of the free that we are avoiding the obvious questions because we don't want to hurt feelings of people that well, are probably on the ropes.

1. Who the hell in their right mind wants any fish for ummm years after a castrophy like the BP spill?

I have been to the Gulf coast and thought it was a fun place as a kid. This place is a trainwreck to say it nice. You have chronic poverty then Katrina and now a oil bath (spill is a polite term when you fix a mess in less than a whole damn season!). Recently I heard on the news that a small portion of the Gulf is open to fishermen. Good to get them back to work.


2. Why are people still lining up to live near or swim in a tri-state toilet?


I love Chicago very much and find almost all of it to be best I've ever seen. Almost. We as a city just can't get enough of the wonder that is Lake Michigan. I agree it's beautiful and calming and even at times blue. However, it is chronically closed for contamination reasons. People bring their kids and pets to this awesomely huge lake and it's sooo dirty the government says "shit man, stay out of the water!" Why? Shit. There is so much downstream and Chicago pollution from our own nastiness we can't go into a GREAT LAKE! That's like hitting it off with some smoking hot man/woman and only to take them the border of Pleasureville and find that they've been slumming it with a nasty even a carnie wouldn't tap. Meanwhile people constantly buy "lakefront property."

3. How is it anyone can make a politician their personal savior/hero?

The current level of political awereness is the best bronze medal to the worthless government leadership in the past ten years. I appreciate my government and the majority of the services rendered to us as a naition. Living in Chicago I have a privelage that not most in the nation have. We see bullshit politicians everywhere. It would impress me if there were more ethical than unethical politicians currently serving. In Illinois we are working on a steady careerpath of governor to inmate. When we were kids teachers let us know that politicians were people to look up to. The battle between two parties is a joke. Any belief in one over the other is as though chosing the highway over side roads during rush hour. There is no winning. At best there is less losing.

If I at some point hurt your feelings congrats on not being numb, yet.

7 Year Plan: Canine SVU

7 Year Plan: Canine SVU

Canine SVU

I feel as though its fair to say that I have trust issues. Nothing all that uncommon for a moderately young person. However, my compulsion has now worn into my one level of responsibility that I never though would change. My dog.

It's wierd on many levels to admit that I send my dog once a week to a "doggie day care." Whenever people hear that they immediately think I'm some fool that drives a Volvo sportwagon. Not true. I just have a dog that was in need of rescue and now needs to chill with other dogs.

Enter the problem. The site owner is awesome. One of the best dog people I know. One day she tells me that everything went well. In fact, we made friends today. Great news right? I imagine hearing that my (girl dog) has made friends with Trixie, Belle, or Kelly Clarkson. This moment in time is something I imagine an actual father fears. Bonnie told me that my dog made friends with Bo and Harry. BO and HARRY! Are you kidding me? My dog is nearly 1.5 years old. Who matches such a young dog up with boy dogs so early?

I immediately rush to judgement that Bonnie is covering for the antics of the day. Did Bo and Harry rape my dog? After all she is young and let's be honest here how does a dog say no? It's hard to give a crotch shot when that crotch is up your butt. She's just too young to be doggie raped! It's statchatory doggystyle!

They grow up fast and in the case of dogs, way faster than you control. Thank God at least you can still crate them when they get older.

Yes Dear.

As time has passed in my relationship that defies all rules I set up when floating in bachelorhood I have begun to realize that in affairs of the heart I am the worse negotiator. Ever.



Rule 1. House cats will never live in my house.

It has been almost two years of the most worthless animal God created living in my house. Women and countless gay men disagree about why cats have value. First and foremost I am lectured for hours if I forget to flush the toilet. What if I decided to just crap in your shoe box on the floor? Cats instinctly cover their "waste." Not Fur-turd (my appointed name). She actually paws the litter out on the floor so the stink can really mature for the month long quest to see if I vomit in my own bathroom without the help of food poising.



Rule 2. You can make friends as you please, on Facebook.

It came to my attention late Saturday after my girlfriend and a couple pitchers of margaritas hung out with her BFF. There is a revelation that is destined to every set of female girlfriends. Our boyfriends should be friends.
Although this bedroom-laced incentive plan is an easy plan to draw you need to ensure there are some common ground. Fortunately there is for us. We both love video games and not having to go out to bars unless forced by birthdays and “in-town” friends. We both think each other has douche bags for friends. Let it be known guys keep a douche bag friend around for the same reason there is a token ugly/fat girl in your click. We want to look better too. Forcing this relationship is expected. I am impressed it took this long to happen in my world. I just need to get better about my fantasy sport lingo so we don’t ever bring up the topic of engagements and wedding.


Rule 3. Sorry is a word designed by women for men to use.

Life and love and bonded together by three little words. I am sorry. I used to get mad about how much I said sorry in life in general. Then I found myself in a long term relationship and wow, I am shattering all sorts of apologetic records. It’s not like we are plagued with arguments or anything. There are just things you would like to run a bit smoother and you “discuss.” A real non-earthshaker is making the bed. Right? I feel like I am in the movie “the Prestige” with Christian Bale because I bring a simple point and request to the table and without breaking a sweat I am ending wondering how the hell I went from asking for help to asking for pardon on initiating such a conversation after the royal flush of female cop outs – the “long day.” I believe women manage to have long days when they realize it’s a couple weeks from their period and can’t use that to silence their spouse. Life and love are full of challenges that often we don’t want to face head on. Well, I am not the gym teacher of life excuses. Without further delay, I am sorry.

Part of me is curious to why we don’t have a female president yet. I don’t know if they would fare any better but I certainly believe there would be a lot less excuses and more press conferences begging for forgiveness.

The Eve of Crossroads

Holy crap life has moved so fast that I am not even worried about my age getting to be 29. See that's what's swell about being a guy. We have statistical evidence that we tend to get the better end of the aging dilemma. I would be pumped about that but it's not like my last name is Clooney.

What bothers me is that I have only 365 more days to make some essential mistakes in life. The thirties is for coming into your own and being a man/adult. The twenties is for you to constantly screw up like you did as a teen but this time with bills. I am excited to be thirty. Frankly I just want to get through the next year healthy, beat some video games and have some great stage time.

What are some fun mistakes to make before thirty.
1. take a horrible vacation
2. grow a beard
3. try to bring back muscle tee's
4. get a second dog - already named "Chewy"
5. find vegetables and salads I enjoy to eat
6. go back to apply for my first job at the movie theater again
7. buy season tickets to Northwestern football.

One Armed Man & Other Quick Hits

It has been three weeks since I broke my right wrist. I can't count the number of times women have seen me with a cast up yo my arm yet still expect me to get the door for them. Yes their latte is more important than my arm. Perhaps the half pump of skinny vanilla will ease their eyes from looking at their unringed finger.

I helped hold the door for a lady who had done well bringing more than she could carry, the door closed on my hand/cast and she gave me a look like I gave her the bird.

That being said, if a guy doesn't get the door for you odds are you didn't bring the A-game today.

Almost time for my family to pretend we are religious so we can eat together for Easter.

Miami airport has a giant foor mural of a hurricane. Seriously? Can't wait for the O'Hare pedway to be illuminated by the Chicago Fire mural.

Relationships are set upon wth rules, until you get on a dance floor. Then baby vertically dry hump a stranger all you want. Relationship diplomatic immunity.

Birth control pills - for such a large mistake that pill is sure small. Look so convenient you can swallow it while laying on your back!

New Year...Still at it.

I prefer to wait about three weeks into the new year before I go back to the gym. It helps me to not get attached to the people who are giving their ab bench/seat/rollers at home a break. I by no means am at the apex of physical discipline nor physique but I can enjoy watching the hamsters on the treadmill watch a Burger King commercial.

The anatomy of my gym is pretty special. We have a mix of moms who just can't shake that baby weight before the graduation, dad's that think they are in their high school gym and should max out to impress their unemployed pals and then my favorite people, the jean crew.

Who comes into the gym to workout in a pair of jeans? Is that remotely comfortable to anyone? It's not a matter of being some weird fashion person but jeans people, come on! The only way their workout could get worse is corduroy.

A couple weeks ago I suddenly worked harder on my cardio. A man joined the elliptical machine next to me and he had only one leg. This guy was is so much better shape than me and the fact that he had such a difficulty to overcome not only inspired me but told me to suck it up.

I will always hold a special place in my heart for the women that know their work out has paid off and proceed to run on the treadmill in their sports bra. Yes I look. More than once do I look. Where else besides a "Seinfeld" archive can we see a woman where her bra in public and we all agree- great idea? I am sure some people or other girls specifically find the sports bra to be a bit, well not as fantastic as I do.

It is not every day you see such a sight then of course it only a mirage.

Wish List 2009

Wow, two posts in one day. Someone must be at work when his office should be closed. I would be shredding the sledding hills by now.

Here's what I hope, some far fetched for either Christmas or next year.

1. Bears fire Lovey, hire Shanahan and then bring back the Honey Bears. Losing is fine with a collection of hot teachers shaking pompoms.

2. National Treasure 3 to be expedited by Pres. Obama after he prioritizes how to fix amateur sports for his viewing pleasure.

3. All Chicago sports teams to have aggressively honest promos.
Chicago Bears: Tailgating not winning, is back!
Chicago White Sox: We got really lucky in 2005 and we're getting the band back together!
Chicago Cubs: We have hot girls
Chicago Blackhawks/Fire: We no you don't care but we are good!
Chicago Bulls: We score as much as 14 year old boys

Shoe Shine King v. My Coworker's Vagina

The past couple months since last post have been momentous and numbing. As tomorrow is Christmas it would only fair for me to share the two finest moments of my November and December.

Sometime in November I was walking back from an appointment with a client that most likely could care less what we sell. As I walked the streets of Chicago I learned one key things. I have the face of gullible compassion that street peddlers thrive to see. Is it so evident that my mother raised me with manners and that I like a good story? Man, I can't help it if I know the pitch is better than the actual copy of "Streetwise."

Enter the man who will never be forgotten. "The shoe shine king" of Chicago entered my life throwing all sorts of compliments. "Wow! What a suit! You must be a ladies man with that suit. You know what a ladies man needs to go with that suit? A shoe shine. The first thing a lady looks at are a man's shoes. ( I still challenge that claim) As I pause to chat he is already taking his office out of his Eastpack backpack and squirts a polish that looks like some fancy bird just deuced on my shoes. I see the polish, a cloth, and a brush and realize at this moment I have been assaulted with the tricks of the street.

Please envision a 6'5" guy putting his foot on the leg of a man kneeling to polish his shoes while everyone else in Chicago walks buy. Then comes the close. He mentions so quickly that this shine will last three weeks and for that $8 per shoe! Ah son, I never said I wanted a shoe shine. Since the shine looks very nice you may have the $4 I have in my wallet. Sounds like a better deal than the $0 I owe you. He took the $4. My shoes still look great.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last week before my coworker went on vacation she mentioned she had some errands to run before the cruise. I remember when I was a teenage boy and jonesed on the idea of hearing what women say to each other. I no longer want to hear it since I work in the locker room of ladies with no shame. They have discussed popping each other's zits, their cycles (in detail), women's condoms, and perhaps the point of this; their lady land.

The eve of the trip came and well we were all given the count down for that and her waxing trip. Again, this is a collection of areas I don't ever want to hear or think about. I can say there is some censorship about that request but the worse point was the detail of the waxing person being too hands on for the waxing (again sure wished I'd want to hear that). She then mentioned that there was an ointment applied to more or less be afterwax. (It gets more gross- caution)

My coworkers were being nice at times with the censorship of their; areas, That being said I now have to make a request to never be able to smell their business. I advised her that indeed from ten feet away I could still smell her new aroma which mixed lavender with aging V. Somehow with just the air vents in the building standing down wind made me dry heave. Just imagine the client she visited right after this was done.

I can only hope this is a freak group of way to open V-talk. Someday they'll make some guy sooo lucky and be all his.

That's It! I'm Done.

As I get older I have to admit that I can no longer do what glorious things made being a young guy so great. Knowing that the modern era has made punchlines of fidelity and retirement, I may be able to un-retire from the following, maybe some of you should too.

1. Wearing a baseball hat backwards- like when I was a kid and I saw myself in the mirror sucking my thumb, I realize this has to stop. I look like a jackhole who quotes "Old School" to his coworkers while they rank who they'd nail in the office.

2. Starting my night out after 10:00pm - seriously what is so impressive about this? I have stuff to do tomorrow like mop, take the dog for an extra long walk, and play a video game.

3. Drinking games- If you have a mortgage you need to grow up. Flippy cup or quarters on your granite tops is not going to do anything better than demonstrate you white-knuckled hold on your "prime."

4. Eating a whole frozen pizza - This was child's play for me. In current times my girlfriend apparently wants to eat with me. Odd.

5. D-bag friends - There comes a time where the different groups of your friends may want to hang out. Now having to brace people for how "Greg is Greg. You'll just have to let him be." Not really who wants a tool hanging out making everyone cringe. Not sure if you support a D-bag? It's easy to tell. Are you older than 25, and does he/she act like they are in the sophomore year still? D-bag.


Man alive, I can't wait to install a ceiling fan some day.

Coworkers Say the Darndest Things

It has come to my attention that after working closely again with more women that men, I no longer want to have a daughter. The margin of error is far too wide. I used to think it would be cool to hear what women think...It's not impressive at all.

Today I was needed to lobby for a solid couple minutes before they would cease conversations about their vaginae. Knowing that I may very well have to defend this blog I will leave it at the point that v-talk should only come from my girlfriend or some dropout with daddy issues.

I have heard that if you put a pack of women together they eventually synchronize their cycles and plan global domination. Not so much in the cubes. It's a daily cat fight lotto. Who will make a highly irrational argument that will linger longer than their hummus breath? Who can begin to sabotage the very shine of the plastic professionalism we all banner? We all do. Even I will get in on this action.

Why? Sometimes although it's painful, I sure love kicking the hornets' nest.

Old Timer's Club

The times are a changing. I have for over a week now been injured with some sort of ailment to my neck and left arm. This may have happened from working out or from merely getting older. Nonetheless, I am feeling the message of old man time talking.

I know I am not a senior citizen yet but the fact of how I am working through this injury shows that my soul is not the only thing that is old. Here's a quick quiz to determine if you are no longer young, just young at heart.

1. True or False: You have bought Icy Hot, BenGay or a heating pad before.

2. True or False: You are more interested in brunch specials than the bar specials from the night before.

3. True of False: Kneeling takes a good ten seconds longer as you look for something to brace with.

4. True or False: You have various vitamin bottles not just the multi-vitamins you bought three years ago.

5. True or False: There is typically an inner monologue debating the cause and effect to what you eat.

If you answered true to more than three questions I am certain you are one like myself who has decided to shelve most physical life goals such as slam dunking, bench pressing your weight, and being able to take all the groceries into the house on one trip.

Don't get me wrong, I know I am much more limited to do things. It helps to be completely sedated with denial sometimes.

One more day until I buy Bayer

I have become officially older than I could have ever imagined. Just today I have hit such low levels of adult superiority as buying my first container of "Icy Hot" and a hot pad. My back actually smelled like an episode of Matlock. This is getting out of control.

I suppose I should give the best estimated origin of this injury. I was working out. Yes, I go to the gym. Frankly I don't know why I go to the gym. According to my good friend, once you land a long term relationship who else are you out to impress. Granted he has a legally binded document to endorse his sloth. So, I tweaked my shoulder/back and it has lingered around until now ruining peaceful sleep as I hold spooning ransom.

My brother recommends seeing my doctor but I had to inform him that I feel like I am more of a medical professional than her. Side note: Doctors, when you practice medicine sooo long that you change from a white coat to a gray or other color coat, please actually know medicine. My doc's coat is gray and I feel like she wants me to believe it is some kind of medical karate belt ranking. Gray must be the color coat for delusional.

The past four days I have been on steady Farve cocktails; advils and excedrine back/body. Just the idea that if my grandparents were alive and I could relate to their health makes me sad. Oh, I forgot the kicker. My index finger is numb. Like some sophomoric caveman I gnaw on it until I can feel my own bite. Never have I declared I was moving our society further with my intellect.

I may have become just what I found to be great contradictory concepts. Through my own working out I have become a slower moving and injured person. If I realized this was my fate over a year ago who knows how many video games I could have beaten? I know for sure I could have at least read one book in that time.