Nyquil, this shit should be sold on street corners, Im going to keep tonights post short and sweet as I am feeling a little out of sorts due to the dosage of Dextromethorphan Hydrobromide and Acetaminophen that is currently rock star party surging through my veins. Is it weird that I read that back to myself and I think is, "meth? oh fuck, that can not be good" Fortunately my street drug one oh one schooling tells me that meth makes you faster, and I certainly am nothing but 70's stoner slow right now.
Clearly my need to share my perceived stonedness (now a world because grammar and language rules don't apply to blogs, it is after all the "graffiti of the writers world" ) indicates that I am still sicker than I would like to be as I approach the launch of my fitness around the world tour 2012 (that will be the informal name until the symbol copyrights are approved then I'll douche it up another level and rock a symbol like I am indeed that pretentious and lame)
The bright side to this illness? Instilling the fear of all the gods into the core of my soul that the party and I will need a solid break up until I'm done the work I need to do in order to face myself in the mirror and be validated. I have a billion gorgeous sexy ideas I want to strip down and expose to you, my friends and potentially foes, (if any of my perceived foes do stumble upon this, I forgive you, but I certainly will never cry if someone cuts your head off with a serrated seal harpoon and proceeds to fuck the wound....thank you Slipknot) Alas there won't be much of an exposure tonight as I am clearly about as sharp as a tac thats been reused five or six times. I'm turning to a healthy diet, lots of good metal and heart pumping hockey action until I feel good enough to run. As soon as I do the metal will be forcing my feet to pound the shit out of the Kelowna waterline for the 48 hours prior to my challenge start.
Just the thought of that has my quads starting to burn and my lungs itch with fresh sharp air.
One of the girls at my work told me today "you are already tiny, you don't need to lose any weight" It stopped me for a second and took me aback thinking that someone would describe me as such when I feel so out of shape and lazy. I think the fact that she is 6 months pregnant probably makes me seem smaller than I am, but again its not about that. Its about the fact that if I was kidnapped by spys and had to fight my way out of their grasp, it would be like fighting a great white with a over cooked noodle. That and I want to look so good in a bikini this summer, that I don't give a shit how small it is.
The physical strength I am about to cultivate is nothing compared to what is about to go on in my mind and my soul. The essence of oneself goes through such a change along side the body that its almost scary to think about, so many examples shoot through my mind, a warrior in a native tribe of an ancestor of mine, my grandfather(s) after their military training before the wars they fought in..I could go on. I'm not trying to liken myself to that level of transformation because the depths of that are far beyond my menial comprehension, but I am so geared up for this one on one battle with myself, even this sick I can't stop smiling.
Call sign Starbuck, out.
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