Day 68

Today was the dreaded Legs & Back. It actually wasn't so bad today. A workman-like effort. No negative thoughts, no wishing it was over, just doing it and getting it done. My knees are giving me no trouble, though my right knee crunches considerably when it's under pressure, but it doesn't hurt. I've got Ab Ripper X tonight. Yoga on Sunday was awesome. I was really looking forward to it. The amount of sweat I generated made my Yoga mat all squishy and slippery. It's gross, and really hard to concentrate on downward dog when my hands are slipping all the time. Yoga is so hard. I bought a recovery drink that has a little bit of creatine in it. That should help a little with the results, and I'm not eating any junk. I had a donut over the weekend and that was it. Now I can have the recovery drink after my workout, and save the protein shake, which I love, for TV watching in the evening. There's a new workout that's coming out by the same company that made P90X. It's called Insanity. I downloaded the preview disk and it is insanity. It's only forty minutes long, but you really have to wonder where all this is going. This is real masochistic stuff. There are a lot of angry-looking women with six pack abs grunting in this video. "They have to come up with a new word for 'insanity,'" says one guy. "This is too crazy." What is more crazy that insanity? Psychopathic?
I don't know if I should try it. I probably will.
I just started watching Breaking Bad because Stevie said it was good. I like it. I gave up on Battlestar Galactica. Half way through the third season and I just can't be bothered any more. Half way through the third season of Babylon 5 and I was getting goose-bumps and giggling it was that good. Still the best, in my opinion. BTW it is amazing how similar On The Couch, Footy Classified, and One Week at a Time are. And I have to say, Footy Classified is my favourite. I didn't like it last year. I thought it was too confrontational, too in-house. I think this year the difference is Grant Thomas. You can see why he's unemployable, but he's a funny bugger.
Well, we won't be going to Okinawa. Plane's full. That's one thing about living in a country with 120 million people. Any idea you have, you can bet that ten thousand other people have had exactly the same idea, and most of them had it a day before you did. Even if you felt like going and sucking farts out of a dead donkey's ass, you can guarantee there'd be a queue. It gives me the shits. Going out for lunch on a Sunday turns into a wait-fest, and of course if I object in the slightest to having to wait 30 minutes to eat eel or octopus brains or whatever, I am a child. I guess in America they have the room to accommodate everyone. Here, everything is the same size as Australia, except there are six times as many people. I am never alone. It's weird. There is always someone around. I walk out of my house at 6 in the morning or get home from somewhere at midnight and there will be an old guy shuffling along or someone on their bike. It was strange when I went home last year and stayed at mum's while she was in hospital. I would walk the dog for half an hour and not see a soul. The streets were deserted like a virus had hit and everyone was dead. A car would drive by every now and then but that was it. But I have to say I kind of miss being around people when I am not here.
Wow. Just watched the first half of the Saints Geelong match during lunch. So that's what footy looks like. I especially like it when the player takes a mark and does what the commentators have dubbed a 'play-on,' meaning he doesn't just stand there and wait until there are no options. And the players are remarkably self-disciplined. I haven't seen anyone punch an opposition player in the head yet. Mind you, it's still early. The good ones usually wait until a critical moment with three minutes to go in the final quarter, don't they. I haven't bothered watching the Swans game yet. I wasn't really planning to anyway, and then dad sent me a text on Sunday afternoon saying "Bad luck. If we had kicked straight..." WTF dad! He sent me another mail immediately afterwards, but I haven't opened it. I know it contains the result to the Saints Geelong match. I don't know how many times I've told him not to call or text me before I see the game (which is usually by Tuesday) but if he's anything he is excitable, my dad. That reminds me, last week I was downloading Swans Adelaide and some noob wrote in the comments "Me and me mate are 5 for 5 in the tipping!" I typed back "I hope you and your mate are geniuses and tipped the Swans to beat Adelaide in Adelaide, you asshole." This upset him. "You don't know me. You don't know who I tipped" etc. Have I told you just how hard it is to see a game without knowing the result before I see it? Probably.
We had a fun weekend. But on Saturday Will was constipated all day. He's got a thing about doing pooz. I guess it's just a stage. He doesn't like going to the toilet, and we get upset when he pooz in his pants, so he's out of options. He just holds it in until he feels crook and then it hurts when it comes out and *sigh* just do a shit in the toilet and let's get on with our lives! It started in the morning when we went to Mister Donuts. We get to the train station and it's "Daddy, I'm sleepy." It's ten in the morning. I know this is code for "I need to do pooz." So he's sooky all day, and by the evening he cannot function as a human being. So we put him in the bath, and then dry him off and put a nappy on him, and out it comes. "It's like elephant pooz, daddy," he said which made me laugh. It was a fair size. We clean him up, and bang! He's like a new man, playing and singing and dancing. I think even Joseph, who can't really form thoughts yet, thought, "What a freak." So we are all exhausted after about twelve hours of his wining and moaning, and he wants to play play dough and jump on the bed and have a banana shake and all sorts of things.
He's nearly four and he still has to wear nappies. He doesn't wear them to bed anymore, and we haven't wet the bed yet (touch wood) but he won't do pooz in the toilet. I heard that children are wearing nappies later and later in life because the nappies nowadays are so good that the baby doesn't mind wearing them and changing nappies is much easier for the parents than soaking shit-ridden pants. When nappies were just cotton towels, everybody thought they sucked and the baby was out of them at 18 months. That's amazing. And now, when I go to a chemist or supermarket here, I'm amazed at the amount of adult nappies that are for sale. One reason for that, of course, is that the average age here is 87, but another is because they are so comfortable. When do you decide that you need to start wearing nappies again?
I tell you, the gap is narrowing.
P.S. I just had a look at the mail dad sent me. The one I had already read. It actually says, "Bad luck Dave. kick straight and it would have been different." I think Dave is David, his brother, who barracks for North. I didn't read it carefully yesterday because I turned it off as soon as I realised what it was. I hate North. They just seem illegitimate, like they don't belong. '96 was bullshit, too. So there you go. We win. I might watch it now. So a careless mistake by dad, but I won't tell him because he'll feel really bad. It just occurred to me that the next message he sent was probably to me to say sorry. Should I check? Should I take that chance? I've still got two and a half quarters of the most anticipated home and away match to go. Ok. I love my dad, and I'll trust him. A son has to trust his dad. Here we go.
"Sorry jim. sent a u a txt by mistake meant to send it to david-my brother."
There you go. I feel really good now.