Nowhere To Go To But Down, Down, Down, Nothing But The Ground Left For You To Fall To

Dear Supervisor Daly:

Fuck off and die.

Better yet, resign first, then fuck off and die.

Thank you.

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Dave's weight loss plan has hit a major snag as his knees, burdened by a college-age injury and thirty-five years of supporting his ass in all of its failed endeavors, can't take running anymore.

It's been a week since my last run, and my knees ache. Walking to work is painful. Going down the stairs is painful. Life's painful, and I live it, but I can do without chronic knee pain.

Gotta find a back-up plan.

A Wiggle And Jiggle Can Make The Night Complete

I went to a baseball game yesterday afternoon, and I did not drink. I had one 16-oz bottle of Diet Coke for $4.75. I was rather proud of myself. I also walked to and back from the ballpark, beating my firm on the way back even though we left at the same time but they insisted on taking the N-Judah. When I got home, I went for a run/sweating exhibition for almost twenty minutes.

Of course, my friend wanted to give me two Super Anime Heroes Kinnikuman toys he picked up in Japan last year for about ¥650 (about $6), so I had to go to the bar, where I drank much and spent much. So you see, I didn't want to drink -- I was compelled to by the promise of toys.

Then I coasted through this morning hungover and hungry.

Had A Million Dollar Vibe And A Bottle To Go

Oh noes: Pour one out for Vibe Magazine.

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Ran for 10 minutes last nite. Pathetic. But that what's you get when your 50 pounds overweight. Try again tomorrow, Tubbytits.