I stuck to my plan again this morning.

After doing nine reps at 95 pounds, I decided it was time to see if I could do over 100. I couldn’t be bothered to search the gym for the little 2.5 weights, so I just tossed two 5 pound weights on. 105 pounds. I laid back on the bench and took a breath. I relaxed and pushed upwards.

It uh. Didn’t budge.

Maybe in a few days I’ll get around to finding those 2.5 weights. Five pounds at a time, I’ll bench-press my own weight.

I’m a observational bunny. I notice what other people are doing, noting what they’re donig right, noting what they’re doing wrong. And realizing, “oh, that’s what that’s for.” Trying to get more leg exercises into my general routine. I noticed which ones don’t dig into my legs. *nods* My abs are stronger than I realized. And. I discovered the ass machine. The one where you push backwards with one leg and it EXERCISES YOUR ASS. SCORE.

I must have really worked myself hard, because doing those endgame pull-ups was a challenge. If it’s not a challenge, that means I’m not working hard enough. I was able to scratch out four. I tried for a fifth twice, but couldn’t levitate myself. I called it a day and hit the shower.

Drying off, I noticed something. “…I’m completely flaccid! YES! I’M DESENSITIZED!” There was this one guy walking around naked, and he apparently knew a lot of people. It made me smile on the inside. It’s amusing to see guys greet each other in the shower. “Hey, how ya doing!” And then be like, “Oh yeah, here’s that scar from the surgery I got recently…”

Something else. I overhear lots of conversations. What’s curious is what I haven’t heard. I have yet to hear a guy go, “My wife…” or “My girlfriend…” *smirks* The stereotype that guys don’t gossip much lives on. Or maybe I just need to stick around longer.

I had a cute waitress today. I refrained from hitting on her. Because. Dude, she’s a waitress. Liz was telling us how she used to get marriage proposals when she used to be a waitress. She’d then follow up with how she was a horrible waitress. *laughs* Then again, I’m hardly a sleezebag. I’m the guy you’d want to hit on you! Even though my bill is 5.57 every time, I still leave a dollar or more. I just remember Liz telling me how no matter what you do, you never get more than that. I like being a good tipper?

I tore through the problems my Unix teacher wanted us to go over before the exam on Tuesday. I laughed at how easy they were. Only one or two things I want to run through in Unix, just for my own information.

Probably will go watch Matrix Reloaded now. Forgot to clean my parent’s computer last time, I’ll try to remember to do that tonight. I could read through Alex’s old emails, looking for wisdom. I don’t think I was in the right frame of mind to really absorb it. And. It’ll be interesting to see how her writing style has improved. She had to do a lot of dancing around to get me to listen to her, then. Could brainstorm for National Novel Writing Month. Could clean Roxanne, and then turn her off at the end of the night. I rarely do that? I could do some basic backups. I have tons of CD-RW’s still. *looks at diminished stack* Well. I have enough. I still need to pair my socks. (Whoops.) I could write in theprepuce on how to help people – and how to not help people. I could poetry out of my ass. I’m good at that, if I let go. I could go pee. Definitely. I love peeing.

Among other notables I’ve been purposely overlooking, I missed the anniversary of when I shaved my head. Go back a year in the entry calendar. I wrote sparsely enough that it should be pretty easy to find. If it didn’t curl, it would be covering my eyes. The old part is slowly starting to return in the front, just given how I have to sort of swipe the hair to either side so I can, you know, see. Usually the growing-out phase is a bitch, but this has been rather enjoyable.