I Love The Flower Girl

Well, I finally hauled my corpulent carcass to the gym. I have not been working out the last few weeks due to a knee problem. And I made the mistake of weighing myself. I broke the scale. But who really cares? I’ve got a great personality.

The mid winter doldrums have hit. Shit, January and February are the two worst goddamned months of the year. Eight weeks of seasonal depressive hell. It gets so cold nipples can cut glass, the price of heating oil keeps going up (unless you are a friend of Darth Cheney’s), there is ice everywhere which isn’t too bad unless you are old and/or have fucked up knees and your johnson shrinks to a size that would embarrass a lightly hung marmoset. Give me 95 and humid any day.

Two things that add to my personal hell. One is that I used up all my fucking days off when my knee blew up on me recently so I have no days off for the foreseeable future. May 29th is my next holiday at work. I might not even be alive by then! And two is that on February 24th I turn 39 years old. As I have the last seven birthdays. You do the math. No doubt I will do a very witty, thought provoking blog on what I want for my birthday before the momentous day. Stay tuned.

But don’t get me wrong. I’m not all that unhappy. It could be worse. I could be Barry Cowsill.