GOOCHONLINE - Since 1999

I went right back into the gym after a week off due to illness. I was going to go light, but I said "fuck it, it's only been a week." I even did squats which resulted in a popping sound in my back that yielded some discomfort, but nothing to keep me from the rest of my workout.

This morning, I couldn't get out of bed - a situation compounded by the fact that I had to take a piss. I almost panicked... the only form of communication to the outside world was my laptop computer (my phones were all charging in their respective cradles away from my bedroom). I was going to blog a plea for help, or post the number of my friend with a key to my place. I finally fell out of bed and crawled to the bathroom. It was a portrait of courage as I pulled myself up by the counter.

Not only did I not win Oregon Lottery's Powerball last night, but not one single one of my numbers from all five of my picks came up last night. The odds of that happening are higher than winning, I think. It wasn't my lucky day. I feel like a Kennedy.

Shit... my back hurts. I'm going to have to start drinking EARLY tonight. Or today. Fuck it... I'll pour some Jack Daniels into my Cheerios.

There's a fine line between "good workout" and "holy fucking shit... call 911." I walk that line every day.

Current hit counter as I write this is . My own hits don't count. Whoever hits it, right-click on the counter, save the image, and email it to me. I had people do this when I hit 11111. I'm gonna pop Vicodin like they're Tic-Tacs today. I can't even concentrate.