I am now the proud owner of a motherfucking jacuzzi.

I named it Ralph Waldo Emerson. Kim rejects the name.

When I was young(er) and (more) insecure, I would often comfort myself with regard to my fatness by imagining that manboobs under a shirt look just like the pectoral muscles of a strong man modestly given over to fat.  So as long as I didn't have protruding stomach (thank you freakishly long torso), many would mistake me for an ogre, rather than a ( Read more... )

Yesterday, on my bike-ride home from work, I was pedaling furiously when my chain spontaneously fell off.  The drop in resistance was so sudden, I was not able to modify my right leg's application of force when the mass it was responsible for accelerating decreased from my body & the bike together to just the pedals and my ascendant left leg.  Hey ( Read more... )

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As promised, my body: a comparison

And for those of you who might be interested in knowing why there were tears on my pillow last night.

Today I will go to the stadium and torture myself for perhaps more than one reason.

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