mychai's Diaryland Diary

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Blah blah blah, it's a Monday.

Whew! I'm bushed!

I joined Gold's Gym about a week and a half ago. I prepaid for three months, which would be around the time that I "aim high" and all of that rubbish. More importantly, though, I have a seventeen-pound-loss bet going on with my gal Carrie. She's buying me a massage, dammit.

I've been trying to build up my running to what is required by the Air Force. The requirement is to run two miles in eighteen minutes. I know it sounds easy. I know most of you could run two miles in probably considerably less time than eighteen minutes. But try as I might, I just cannot do it.

The best I've gotten so far is 1.54 miles in said amount of time. Which is much better than when I first started running. I think I got to 100 feet before collapsing, convulsing, into puddles of my own vomit.

But I absolutely hate running. I think it is the most boring, uncomfortable exercise ever... invented? If you ask me, I think it some somewhat cowardly to require your military to run long distances as fast as they can possibly go.

Who are we? The French?

Nosiree. If I ever got into battle with Sadam, I would be the guy holding my ground, shooting away, flipping the bird, and possibly even mooning the sonofabitch. Am I brave? Nope. Am I defiant? Yeah, kinda, but not in that way.

I would just find the better option to stay and shoot away than run for two or three miles in the sand. I wonder if they will let me bring a bicycle to boot camp. Now biking... I can do biking.


I pretty much told everyone at work on Sunday that, and I quote, "I am leaving a little earlier than expected."

Within 24 hours at work, somehow this statement snowballed into the fact that I had been called up early and would be going to boot camp sooner and that I was getting shipped off to Iraq to fight the evil forces of the world.

So, yeah... I didn't feel like expelling the energy required to straighted out the false rumors flying about my future. Instead of saying that a bud and I are going on a cross-country road trip full of sex, beer, and, more likely, lots of bumming around random Air Force bases eating cheap food and wondering what the hell we should do next, I just went along and said how excited I was to be serving my country, yada yada yada.

I know it is technically a lie. But, eh. It'll be true soon enough. Just not as soon as they think.

In the meantime, I have close to 100 hours of sick leave I need to burn up or lose completely. Guess who isn't going to work today. Mmm-hmmm! That's right! The Paulster, that's who.


Well, now that I worked out and got all buff and damn sexy, I need to shower so I can go eat at one of the best eating places in town.

Actually -- and this is no lie -- it was ranked as one of the top 10 eating establishments in the country by USA Today. If I could find a copy of the news article online, I would link to it. But no such luck.

I haven't eaten there in a while, and I got a major craving for it earlier. They have a meal there called "The Stretch." It is a multi-layer dish of hash browns, scrambled egg, chile, cheese, and onions. It also comes with bell peppers, but I hate bell peppers. Nasty, vile weed!

So, I am cutting today's entry short. I need some Broadway Diner coffee. I think they put crack in the coffee, because I never can get enough.

11:05 p.m. - Mon., Feb. 17, 2003

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