It’s 740 right now and I’m sweating. I’m screwed when I go to Missouri this weekend, where it’s supposed to be up in the 90s.
American Idol? Should go to Taylor. Kat sounded not so good. I tried voting. A lot. But I never got through.
I’m back to easily benching 85lbs. This may not seem like a lot, but it will be when I punch you in the face.
I have an appointment in an hour for the awesome plantar fasciitis that’s back in action. I’m asking for a dianabol steroid, because I love me some ‘roid rage.
When I called to make an appointment to have my plantar fasciitis looked at, the appointment scheduling person didn’t know how to spell plantar fasciitis. So, instead, she just wrote “foot pain”. Cute.
I’m supposed to be making a website for our class reunion. Ask me how far I’ve gotten. Wait. Don’t.
2 hour season finale of Lost tonight. Once The Apprentice is over, there’s nothing but baseball for me to watch all summer. That sounds awesome.