Whatever You Do, Don't Exercise

I can breathe again! Praise Jesus. Oh wait, I don't believe in Jesus... Praise Rhone-Poulenc Rorer Pharmaceuticals Inc., the inventors of this nifty acid that I spray up my nose to destroy the nasty nose goblins that inhabit my head.

It's about time Rhone-Poulenc did something for me. I had to write a 20 page paper on that company with an accompanying speech my senior year at Temple University. The speech class was set up as a public stoning of whatever individual was subjecting themselves to the humiliation. The professor demanded that we grill and destroy the speaker, and the speaker was graded on how they defended themselves. My speeches usually ended with me yelling, "and you're a fucking racist.", or something along those lines.

That's beside the point. The point is, I can breathe again. But I may not be able to write again after today.

You see, my dear little diary, I'm not just sick in the head. I also have the bad knees from jogging, the bad wrist and elbow from tennis, and the bad shoulder from bowling. I'm 25. Where did I go wrong? I wish I could go on a circuit tour of the U.S., giving speeches to high schools about the dangers of exercise. "Stay inside kids, being healthy for 10 years is not worth the agony you'll endure when your precious youth is gone..."

I'm on a office bowling team that starts a new season tonight, because despite the typical 12 hour work days, I just don't spend enough time with my co-workers. At least this involves drinking heavily. Which will come in handy when above-mentioned shoulder finally gives out on me. It's been in so much pain, but the lazy and unintelligent doctor I went to said it looked fine to him ... "good enough for me! Guess I'll be bowling afterall."

So, if I don't update for a little while, just imagine I'm strung up in a sling somewhere in an upper-body cast, openly weeping for attention, but secretly delighting in the fact that I finally managed to get on disability.