What Up Hoes?

(Monday August 25, 2008)
It's been a while, I know. I've been writing, just haven't been sending the messages along.

Nothing much to report. Took a zero today. Hung out in a hotel all day. Drank a milkshake, ate some french toast, ate all the cookies out of my resupply box as I always tend to do (sweet stuff hardly ever makes it out of town), drank some beer, went in the hot tub.

I was pretty bored today actually. I finished my book (The Children of Men) and I and zilch to read. Snoqualmie Pass is a newspaperless society apparently because I couldn't find a one anywhere. Maybe they had one down at the rest stop building at the end of the parking lot along the highway, but I wasn't thinking newspaper until later in the day and there wasn't a chance I was making that 100 yard walk once full-on laziness had set in.

I'm just rambling right now. Bored. Tired. Watching Jon and Kate Plus 8. Just listening to one kid crying is enough to drive me off the edge of a cliff, let alone eight grubby hethens. But then again they're not my kids, so it's easy enough to say "Alright, I'm tired of you bastards. Go away."

I had a dream once that I had a daughter and I remember feeling during that dream and still after I woke up that I wouldn't hesitate for a second to die for her. I wonder if that's what it's like when your kids are born, just feeling that you would do anything for them without question.

I keep wanting a dog. That can be my kid for the time being. I'd probably get super attached to a dog too. Not die-for-it attached, but when it died I'd cry my brains out. I've only ever been attached to one dog before and it's not even mine. I liked to pretend he was though. My little buddy, my puppykins.

You know who I'm not attached to? Fucking Brett Favre. He's only a half step above Roger Clemens in the retirement watch category and that's because Clemens is a lying, drug using bastard. Enough you pile of Mississippi alligator crap. I'm tired of the media fawning over this fool because he has "boyish enthusiasm" and "loves to play the game." Kiss my ass. He's a pill popping interception machine who just up until this past season was playing like Steve DeBerg. I'm tired of this garbage. Brett, I hope your move to the AFC brings you a career-ending lower extremity injury. My uncle has Jets season tickets so maybe I can watch that one in person.

One negative I will say about the trip, I missed the entire Olympics. Didn't see a single thing live and only one track race. Trash.

The one I did see was the women's 4x400m. Comeback victory for the US. Score son. Reminds me of the time when I was at the Penn Relays my sophomore year of high school and watched one of the most exciting races ever.

High school girls 4x400m Championship of America. Montclair, NJ featuring future Olympians the Barber sisters taking on some Jamaican school. We are dominating, the outcome is certainly not in doubt, but the incredibly packed crowd is raucous, everybody on their feet, whole stadium going crazy and then the Montclair third leg shits the bed. Totally blows it, gives up a 5-10 meter lead and the anchors take the batons even.

The Jamaicans are now going nuts, it's a goddamn war on the track, slugging it out stride for stride, everyone around me is yelling at the top of their lungs, I'm cursing at the top of my lungs - "FUCK YOU JAMAICA!!!" And we lost. The next year my friend Juan told our Jamaican friend Craig that story and he punched me in the balls.

Just saw that some sik bastard kidnapped four dogs from a shelter in Washington or Oregon and beat them to death. This is a sick world we're living in with sick people. On a happier note, a mother and baby elephant were reunited at some zoo in Washington. Happy times!

Alright, I've babbled enough. Time for bed. Sharing a room with three other guys. Sharing a bed with a guy from New York who has a rip in the back of his shorts from the top of his ass crack to the bottom. We've told him about the rip, but he doesn't care and continues to think nothing of bending over in them. An awful sight.