Coffee, Failure, and The Navy.

I just woke up from a bizarre dream where the Navy had convened at the local city-hall to give a demonstration -- a demonstration in song, no less -- about why they don't allow gays in the service. It promptly concluded with my mother explaining that Cows, while smelling worse than Pigs, are definitely cuter pets than them.

I got my pious ass beat at Savannah. We bested two teams, and thus qualified for the finals, but when they can name respected Psychologists based solely on the country they came from, I suppose I'm out of my league. The country wasn't even Switzerland, Austria, or Germany! I'm okay losing to that, I suppose. At least I made it to the final cuts.

My guts are messed up. The burning sensation that has plagued the area where my nose and throat meet has finally subsided, but the gut-stuff was really quick to step into its place - I really hope it goes away before the Gym opens, because my morning crunches (Geez, can you say "Patrick Bateman"?) aren't cutting it anymore, and I need a nice Chin-Up bar or some other piece of equipment to really start shaping them.

I saw a guy sitting at a folding table offering Communion in the streets on the Television yesterday. It was really bizarre, and I have to give it to the guy - it was pretty neat.

I've begun sewing heating-pads, a la Johnny Wander. I filled the first with Tea and Rice, so it smells good when you heat it, and I wound up, indeed, making it from my brown headscarf. I had an excuse to sew anyways - my coat pocket and backpack have begun to tear. Both tend to be overflowing with crap, and a guy I lift with likes to take the pens from my coat pocket and throw them in mock outrage when I tell him amusing insults. A few times, he's wound up yanking the pocket in turn, and it's started to fall apart. The most recent little comment I dished him has been:

"I'd tell you to fuck a wall with your head, but I know two walls can't fornicate."

I felt particularly clever with that, but it's actually not my line. A Ruskie buddy of mine told me it in Russian, and then promptly explained what it meant.

Anyways, my belly's pissed off, and I'm going to go provoke it with two cups of black coffee. I think the town might be snowed in again, but it never hurts to be prepared in the event that I wind up doing something other than sewing and listening to Eiki's music while I change my sheets.