I was almost late to the gym today because Jay the Contractor was here checking up on his subcontractors and delivering the bathroom cabinets. They look pretty good. My pre-workout was helping him carry the cabinets up the stairs.

We had a quick sprint workout today and for some reason we were all pretty iffy in class today. We only went 3 rounds, but I assed out on the final run to the corner and just walked. I still wasn’t DFL because my row and ball slams were pretty quick but I felt like my lunch had formed a tight knot in my stomach and it just didn’t feel right. I never push myself to the point of throwing up because I’m old and I don’t care enough and I wasn’t about to start pushing myself that hard at this point. I mean, really, so I can beat someone to the corner and back. How is that in line with my goals? I remember I used to have three criteria for almost everything I did:

1. Is it going to kill me?
2. Is it going to get me chicks?
3. Is it going to make me money?

That list was really just for show, because I hardly do anything that could even hurt me, let alone kill me; I am not doing anything to attract the opposite sex (check out my hobbies like ham radio); and I’m more likely to tell my employer to place a large sum of money in one of his excretory orifices than to put it in my bank account in the form of a raise. I’m really bad at being a cutthroat capitalist success story. I’m more likely to torpedo my own boat, so to speak.

Lazy and self-destructive. Maybe I should rewrite my 3 criteria:

1. Does it require me to leave the house? (The nice warm house with internet and cable TV?)
2. Can I take a nap instead?
3. Are you going to eat that?

Much better.