Aliens and Golden Showers
Saint Etienne – He’s On The Phone

Amidst concerns that I am getting a little bit tubby, I have joined the world of the healthy eaters. This world sucks. This world is no fun. Send me home.

I’m trying to get in shape for the summer and the Nike 10K run in May. I’ve now joined the dieting millions in what hopes to be a cure for the common spare tire. I’m doing the “Body-for-Life” diet and workout regiment. Beyond vanity and health, the other reason I’m working out is to thwart any ideas from the aliens that I would be good a good meal. I read somewhere that if aliens wanted to eat humans, they’d probably pick the fat and young ones. Which makes sense because humans prefer fat cows to eat over the lean muscular race horses. Take also the example of veal and how it’s such a delicacy – those poor fat little calves. So I’m going to be a lean, mean, race horse so that the aliens will eat the rest of you fatties first.
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Love is a lot like fishing. It doesn’t matter how well you prepare yourself for it and what type of equipment you use, some days you’ll catch lots of fish and other days you won’t catch any at all. I’ve seen guys with old lacklustre rods catch more fish than other guys with shiny expensive equipment. It’s all about timing and conditions. If the fish are there, the conditions are right and your worm is enticing enough – anyone can catch a fish.
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Sin City on the weekend was excellent. It was a well-crafted true-to-its-form movie. Micky Rourke gave a great brute performance; Elijah Wood was creepy; Jessica Alba was tantalizingly hot; and the girl from Gilmour Girls got what she deserved.

For those intending to see this movie, beware of the violence. It is up there with Kill Bill, possibly a few notches higher.
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I don’t urinate enough according to my coworkers. I estimate that on average I urinate once in the morning and once at night. On my good days I’ll urinate mid-day as well. At first we had hypothesized that I don’t drink enough water. However, my recent fitness test showed that my body is 59% water which means that my body is within healthy range of hydration. So why am I such a camel? I think it’s purely psychological. As a child I was a bed-wetter. I think as I grew out of bed-wetting, my mind has conditioned my body to store urine as long as possible. This is also a defense mechanism just in case aliens try to eat me. Sort of like the squid and his black ink, I could piss all over those aliens.