So Say we All

Stand and Deliver

Adama's mustache basically equaled weirdness and despair.  The Admiral was a warrior and there was no one to fight for that year.  His son was gone on another ship, the Cylons were gone and he was an old man building ships in bottles on a bigger ship.  When he shaved his 'stache, it meant things were back to normal in the Battlestar universe: fighting Cylons, the main cast back on the ship and men and women showering in the same cramped toilet compartments.  Routine is important, mustache or bare lip.

Out here, I get up, shower, call home and catch the bus to work.  I have four computer monitors I watch everyday, sometimes till my eyes are tired and blurry.  (One night in early July, I experienced double vision for a few hours from the unnatural light blasting at my retinas.)  The first screen is like watching a game of Pac-Man: Blinky, Pinky, Inky and Clyde run around and I see if they turn into fruit.  The second screen is like a BBS game I played in high school: lines like "buy armor for troll army; attack elven horde at dawn" scroll across the screen.  The third screen is Fox News; I think Rupert Murdoch is the Hugh Hefner of network television.  Finally, the fourth screen is where I see emails from my better half with pictures of my kids playing on the beach, tackling large animals and hugging their babysitters (they like older women, too).  Eventually I get the phone call that let's me go home for the night...until I realize the next bus is coming in an hour.  Sometimes old men with dour faces in white vans give me rides back to my room.  They never tell me their names or what they do, but the candy is delicious.

Despite my stiff upper back and neck muscles, I proceeded to optimistically squat, bench and row tonight.  I was disappointed to find out that the lowest weight they have for bench press shirts are for 350lbs (no T-shirt for me).  Pressing my luck, I asked if members of the prestigious Thousand Pound Club get T-shirts. Huckleberry Hound with red hair and freckles did not smile when he told me "No."

So...
Squat: 5-325, 4-325, 2-325
Bench: 5-225, 4-225, 4-225, 4-225, 2-225
Rows: 5x5x180

Breakfast for dinner routine.

Another breakfast hour meal in which I read chapters of When You are Engulfed in Flames while my food digested.  Several non-mustachioed diners gaped as I laughed out loud to David Sedaris sitting in his underwear in a French doctor's office and assisting pathologists inspect a dead body.  If you can't laugh at dead people, well, what kind of a society in which do we live?  It's not easy to write funny sentences while obeying grammatical rules.