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1/30/2004

Fucking Friday, bro.
Dorks, I am full of spirits. I'm talking 'bout the angel tickles kind, not the Jack Daniels. This new diet is kicking ass. I feel my compounded-frat-boy-beer/LSD gut dropping off. Although, last night the lovely couple and I went out for hamburgers and french fries. I'm allowed one naughty food day a week. I cut it down to just one bad meal for the first week. Now I'm back on the protein kick.
Shit, that last sentence reminded me it was time to eat and I just dropped a peanut into my keyboard it's stuck under the 11111 key. Fuck it, it's not really MY keayboard.
Yesterday I had coffee with one of the sports guys from the Seattle P.I. (the only newspaper with a mustache and a Ferrari 308). It was a nice coffee as such ...
We discussed pro sports versus college sports, LeBron James, journalism and the rigors of being a sports stringer. It being the middle of high school basketball season and since I have a fulltime job that doesn't let me (I just got the peanut out!) get out until 4:30 I won't be able to start working with them for about another month. Then it looks like I'll be covering baseball games or track. Either would be fun.
After that I headed back to work and then out for burgers, which was followed by a 2 mile walk with the L.C. and their dogs. It was fun and wet, as are most good things in life.
Tonight with the R.G. I have a well-earned steak dinner, which will probably be followed by "Family Guy" episodes and a box of wine. I'm so European. Smirksome.
Tomorrow is the big mini golf rematch between me and my lovetickles. A few months ago I, trying to be a nice guy, let her win. Only I wasn't anywhere smooth about it. On the final hole instead of easily missing and making it look real I reared back and hit it as hard as I could.
"Oops."
I forgot I wasn't dating that kid from "Life Goes On". I'm talking about the retarded one, not the girl who wore glasses.
So, there's that tomorrow (lay money on me) and then the cruise and Shins concert on Sunday. My, The Shins on Sunday.
I wish the time would hurry up.
Speaking of which, does that new Ashton Kutcher movie look like it was made by 14-year-olds? Not tempting at all. It has that big fat kid in it who couldn't see the sailboat in "Mallrats" (Kevin Smith isn't original and has hepatitis). I can't stand that guy. Every movie he's in he plays this big tough guy when in real life he'd be too fat to hit me. I'm more scared of the kid who played Goldberg in "The Mighty Ducks" than this clown. Man, if I saw that guy I'd totally switchblade him and his precious Goth hair and "Der, I need a sandwich 'cause I'm a meany" attitude. Dammit, I hate fatties and Goths. Football. Monster trucks. Midwest culture. Closed mind.
Whew, where'd I go there for a second? Back to ultra-hip land ...
Yeah, so the guy's kind of a joke if you ask me. Hip recovery.
On that note, have a great weekend, Dork Johnsons. Let's all of us get laid.

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