Yesterday in a Nutshell
Not feeling creative, here is yesterday's highlights:
Colonel Chad (my personal trainer) kicked my ass at the gym. Stop. I mean, Really kicked my ass. The only good thing is that he kicked my friend Dave's ass also. Here's the skinny: Satan, I mean Col. Chad takes us to complete muscle failure and then he pushes a little more. Shit. It's amazing how much our own body weight weighs when you use it to lose weight. Remember how innocent jumping-jacks used to be? They suck. Running in place sucks. That stupid plastic piece-of-shit step-up thing sucks. Push ups and hopping suck. Cybex and all other wieght equipment suck. My muscles really suck...
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I had a scheduling nightmare in my office with patients yesterday. Why is it that some people can't get the hint that, "I don't wanna hear about your grandmother's poodle that had a tumor!" And why do all the "talkers" come in at the same busy time?! I should have been a psychologist-- or maybe I need to see one...
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Halloween at Norwood Hills update: (That's my house). We've pretty much finished the construction buildout of the basement for this year's haunt. Last night we put the stone walls into place in the entrance to the crematory. Ahh, the crematory-- it's scary as shit. (It's even scary to us, and we built it!) Imagine this- a door rock wall slides open when you get to the bottom of the stairs. You enter the dark hallway lighted only by candles and you are surrounded by stone walls. Following the candles, you end up in front of a long archaic table with a dimly-lit sign that says, "lie down and push this button". When you push the button the table start moving and the fire in the crematory howls as you slowly enter the urn. Once in the urn, you're surrounded by flames, ashes, bones and skulls and your death-bed returns to "the other side." You have died, burned, and gone to hell. That's when the party begins.
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How 'bout Those Cards?!
Game 5: Cards vs. Astros-- top of the 9th. 2 outs. Astros 3, Cards2. The best pitcher in the leage, Lidge, throwing against the best hitter of the league, Pujols. Pujols either hits it and becomes a hero, or strikes out and they tear down Busch Stadium. Pitch one... pitch two... pitch three and **BAM** Not just a pussy hit down the Astros short-left side of their field, but OUT OF THE FREAKING PARK, above the stands of center stadium!!
My brother-in-law, Bill, was pretty damn excited when I told him I've got two tickets to Wednesday's playoff game and one had his name on it! GO CARDS!! Let's show the Asstros how to clench the series!
3 Comments:
We shall smoke and we shall drink and we shall singlehandedly root the Cardinals to a victory in game 6.
Oh, and I can't fucking wait to experience the crematorium. I will wear flame-retarded clothing!
Dave-
Don't bother with the flame "retarded" clothing!
Misuse of the word "retarded" intentional. You gotta get Dr. Mike and my humor.
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