Firsts and Out

Tomorrow I am leaving the United States for the first time in my life. I’m happy about that and plan on spending the next seven days far away from any news concerning the pathetic excuse for a President we have in the White House. The less I know about what goes on here, the happier I’ll be.

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GoNotSoPro™ Time

Wifey and I are going out of the country for the first time ever in a couple of weeks; Jamaica if you must know. Not my first choice for my first time leaping fuck face Trump’s “wall” around the U.S., but it looks like it’s going to be a killer time celebrating our 20th anniversary (1.5 years later) with another couple we’re good friends who are celebrating their 25th. Sun, beach, warm water, rum, and boobs; that’s pretty much all I need to survive. As documented here, I’m a woodsy-type of guy, but there’s something to be said for being a beach sloth. And rum.

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Talking About It, Sorry

I had an early morning appointment with my eye doctor on Thursday, and by the time I was done trying on new sets of contacts—none of which seemed to help my vision—I really didn’t feel like working out or riding the trainer. But I did, and I bit off way more than I should have.

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It’s Over

Despite the “woe is me” title of this post, things are pretty darn, not badish.

When I say “it’s over,” I am of course referring to the holiday season. Finished; done; caput. Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back, until you force yourself upon us like a horned up, drunk, conservative Supreme Court judge a year from now!!

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Holiday Down Time

After weeks months of putting myself through a mental ringer of worry and personal shame about the holiday season and seeing family, they are just about over with. Only New Years remains and other than the fact that I met my wife on New Year’s Eve many, many moons ago, that holiday means nothing to me (not that the other ones do). Out with the old and in with the new? More like out with one shit year, and in with another. I’m being negative, aren’t I? Sorry, it’s a gift. And a curse. Mostly a curse.

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Beating Myself, Paths, Off, Etc.

As I’ve documented here more than a few times of late, I haven’t been riding outside that much. Wait, reverse that, I haven’t been riding outside at ALL. I was beating myself up about that, but looking back at previous years, it seems that it’s not that unusual for me to sequester myself inside to do stuff this time of year.

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