Swearing a Blue Streak

I love my job at the library. Not because the job itself is intellectually stimulating, or even because I enjoy being quiet for 8 hrs a day (which I obviously don't). I love it because I work with some of the funniest, kindest and bizarre loons one would ever want to meet. My friend Diana is just such a person. Yesterday, she told me that she hopes that I develop Tourette's Syndrome. ! Not because she particularly wishes for me to have a debilitating neurological disorder, but rather because she thinks I would be a riot a minute. In her eyes, my own personal level of swearing would take on a whole new level. I realize that, more often than I should, I swear like a truck driver. This is not necessarily a good thing, and I have actually been making some sort of half-assed attempt to NOT do so quite as frequently. At any rate, Diana would apparently love me to swear completely uncontrollably. However, she did say that if I do develop said disorder, she would like to be my personal caretaker. Gee, thanks....

In Shape?

So I have decided that round is no longer an acceptable shape. It stands to reason that one with this mentality would then begin the steps to change one's current status. I am apparently conscientously debating which steps to take, and when to take them. Today I thought working out might be a good idea. Nothing too ridiculous; just some weight lifting, stretching, and what not.... then the pain began. I realized that apparently, semi-sedentary lifestyles lead to discomfort when trying to change the status quo. Once upon a time, I was a gymnast. I worked out regularly, and was that cliched "finely tuned machine." Of course, since those days of physical yore, I discovered pain. When you are young, you have no capacity to understand the pain you are inflicting upon yourself... however, at this stage of the game I am well aware. It seems I am incapable of remembering the days when I could run without getting winded, or perform some wily act of physical endurance without so much as a second thought. Now, my basic form of exercise is bringing the beer bottle up to my mouth.... And one.... and two... and.....