It's strange what a person does when they have a sinus explosion headache and tissue issues at home. I couldn't even get out of bed today because my head felt like Chuck Norris took a bat to my forehead. He really didn't, but it felt like that.
After many hours of sleep, I found I was not rested. I am bored or board. However, you want to spell it or however you mean it. It's all the same. Both words are hard. So what does a bored 48 year old do at home sick?
I decided to see what it would be like to live on the other side of poor. Everyone talks about how I need a Coach bag. Seriously? I could pay some bills with that bank.
This one is nice and at half the price of the other Coach bags. I think it is bullshit. They get their cows from the same place as other leather shops get their cows. Maybe they tan them differently or use different dyes, but they are the same as Walmart leather.
But, I could totally rock this coat:
Yeah. So, I could never feel right spending that much dough on some cows without having milk and steak come from them. I actually met someone last week who thought milk came from the store. I can't make this shit up. I also found out that one of my friends has never eaten ANYTHING straight from a garden or homegrown. Where the fuck am I? Albuquerque? I swear I am in the Witness Protection Program posing as an extra on X-Files.
Anyway, I got bored of window shopping in the rich man's section. I decided to try to some squats and that put me into a fever sweat. Or maybe I was just exercising. It's hard to tell right now.
I pet the dogs for a while and hugged and kissed on them. They got mad and left.
After that, I decided to compare pictures of myself and it ended up like one of those milk carton age progression thingies. Scary stuff, really.
|Fighting weight-where I want to go|
|Now-going toward my fighting weight again|
There are some huge age progression issues going on here. Sadly, they aren't even done by a bad computer artist or a software rendition of my Kingergarten pic. It's called Mother Nature and hard living. I don't think anyone would have found me if I got kidnapped and put on a milk carton. See how truly miraculous cop work is? It's like we are special shit out there just trying to do our little part to save America. Perhaps.
Update on my brother: he made it through surgery and is doing what the doctors say, pumping pain killers and doing exercises. I can't talk to him yet.