Vision...blurry...Lungs...trying to... claw their way out of body...

I'm less enthusiastic about the Alaskan fishing job. I remembered that when I get cold I curl up into a whimpering ball (very much like when I was hit in the groin by an errant volleyball earlier tonight.)

It was my friend's hand that lobbed it, but it was God's hand that guided it to it's target.

Wait, I'm not a Fatalist.

But on the other hand, I don't like the idea of all the events in existence innocently setting up the exact necessary conditions to rack me.

But on the other hand, I'd feel very important.

But on the other hand, it wouldn't be a good kind of important. It would be like "We keep little Timmy locked in the basement and the social worker is coming so it's IMPORTANT that he isn't discovered."

Muscle68 had an interesting ex-girlfriend story, so I thought I'd share as well:

Last night, Kate called me up to ask if I would do her a "huge favor." I don't say "Yes" right away when people ask me for a favor. (That's how you end up spending Prom night cleaning the giant panda bear cage.)

Essentially, she wanted me to rub honey all over her so that she could then roll around in money.

She would get to keep whatever stuck to her, and I would get half. It sounded reasonable enough. But I was still suspicious, and pressed her for more information.

I gleaned that I would essentially have to give a speech about why we deserved the chance to participate in "Money for the Honey." Not that unreasonable, either. I have been known to do a bit of "talking" back in my day. Surely I could convince a bunch of drunks that I/she was worthy. I was grabbin' my little plastic honey container that looks like a bear out of the cupboard and about to get my coat when...

"Oh, one more thing..."

We would have to pretend to be a couple.

"Back you go, honey bear."

Instead, I went to go hang out with Annie, who was in town for the holiday season.

I think I made the right choice.