Against your testicles. Don't succumb, little buddy! How are the boys doing, anyway?
No one has written me today. I read my own contribution to the litserv out of shear desire for something to read. I read some of your old posts. I have an almost frantic need for something this morning. We have a secret stash of snickers that is calling for me. I guess if someone was smoking nearby I'd take a puff.
I picked up a hitchhiker this morning. He's going to Santa Maria, about an hour an a half north of here. Just so happens that Tuesday is lab meeting, and someone that works here returns there right afterwards. His lucky day. The last hitchhiker I picked up was standing in the same spot, and had been there for five hours. Location, location, location my friends. Red lights are the key . . . on ramps are not. Anyway, his Honda 600 broke down yesterday, he slept next to the freeway, and has been hitching home without a red cent to his name. Has a paycheck waiting for him, he says. Something smells odd in the story, but he seemed harmless enough. I like picking people up, though I rarely do it. Usually in a rush, or have other people in the car, or am just wary of the look of them.
Actually, I'm going to check up on him before I send him home with my attractive coworker. Right?
Also, my muscles are fucking WEAK and FRAIL. Dude. All the work I put into them earlier this year? Whoosh. Poof. Gone. Benching 95 yesterday was an effort. Dude. I had 3 reps of 175 in June . . . But, after all, I think it's about the process, and I enjoy the muscle ache the next day.
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the guys: philogynist jaime tony - the gals:raymi raspil
