dear pat neshek,
just because you're on the disabled list for probably the rest of the season, doesn't mean that you shouldn't be blogging about it...
love, mengtar

i saw seven road kills between the og, the bank, and my house. i couldn't recognize a single one, because they were far too mutilated. gross. i better not find boar intestines in my wheel well tomorrow. it is also possible that they were all my attic creatures, because i have been home for twenty minutes and haven't heard them tromping around my ceiling. i will keep you updated.

as expected as ever, everyone in the world eats at the og on mother's day. i'm glad i was in a descent mood because my run this morning was okay. i couldn't find my watch, so i don't know what my run-time was. get over it.

but i did get to visit with homeboy's hipster friend that homeboy insists is completely un-hipster. his name is matthew or patrick or nathan. when i figure it out, he might become an initial. but probably never photographed, that might just be awkward. but he always at least seems excited to see me and every time i freak out because we don't really know eachother so i really wouldn't have anything to say, but then i remember that he's a better talker than i am and will always at least pretend that my jokes are funny. how nice.

i was wanting to grab a couple beers tonight, but no one seems to want to go out unless it's with people i don't want to listen to. i'd rather just drink my drink and play pool or darts and not really talk to anyone or listen to anyone talk to me.

videogames and beer it is.