  ~Fin~ I'm toast; slightly burnt, lightly buttered, but too tired to jam. I went for a 40 minute run today and I'm feeling it. My legs are burnt, my knees are on the verge of revolt and I am gonna hit the pillow with a solid right hook to the body sound.
Good times. Good times. For the record, I dropped my own, dear brother from my links because it seems he's too cool to update. When he decides to come down and hang with the masses I'll put him back into the side. I suddenly got productive at 8:19pm last night.
I started by doing some much needed laundry and then proceded to clean the bathroom. Kim played it safe, chilled on the couch, and watched me run around the apartment exercising neuroses; though she did manage to finish her pint of double standard. After all was said, done, and clean we joined Lisa M. and some of her friends over at the Squealing Pig for a couple drinks. We met some new people, told some stories and came upon the realization that Lisa is a table-hitting racist. Apparently, I hit the table too hard trying to emphasize a point and she was quick to give me a hard time.
But when her friend hit the table with both hands, she didn't seem to notice or mind. I know what's up now. Recent outlook on life: Regardless, I will not stop and ask for directions. I'm beat and don't feel like typing anymore. (A.P.T. 12:41 a.m.) 
