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It’s been about a month since I had anything to say. Well, since I felt like writing. I always have something to say. I’m going into my second week of Lent which, means I haven’t had candy since Fat Teusday. Man, it’s killing me. I sooo want to crush a bag of SweetTart Gummy bunnies. Fried food had been pretty easy, Cola/Pop was OK. Then I screwed it while I was in Tampa for work. I ordered a Stoli ginger. Double hit… Open the floodgate and lead the way pop. Needless to say by 12am after much warning to those buying the drinks, I had become shitfaced Not just a little either. So then I was sent to the bar to buy a round. Guiness. Damn, I just drank beer. So it’s been almost a week and the guilt is still thick. I did have an interesting conversation though. Let set the stage. Me at 11:30p, 2 random guys who had noticed my IMKY t-shirt I had stripped down to. So the conversation was all about me. Christian likey, we could talk all night. At the same time 2 players from the US national soccer team, an amazing looking blond, and a fat pharmatard walk in. The pharmatard leans into the bar by me and starts running his fat mouth. Now I tend to get rowdy at the end of a night of drinking and this fatass thought he was amazing. What he didn’t realize was that I am amazing and he interrupted a conversation about ME. Completely out of character I begin harassing him using every bit of sarcastic wit I could conjure. Somehow the conversation went back to Ironman, Hmmm, imagine that. Now here’s where I begin to fade in and out. Kind of like trying to use a cell phone in a bomb shelter. I do recall a few main topics and now the response make sense.

1. I am arguing with an idiot, however, when he challenges me to an Ironman right now and I accept. That makes me the idiot. Doen’t matter, he’s fat and ugly and truly less of a person.

2. Soccer players and their hot sluts do not care that I can almost break 10 hrs for 140 miles. They are soccer players. And they have a hot slut. My PR is meaningless. They should have beat me up just to impress their slut.

3. Crabby bartenders do not like it when people ask them why they are crabby especially when we refer to their career choices.

4. No. I do not want shots, a beer, or another drink. But since you handed me all three, OK.

It was a rough morning.

The training is going well. I am faster, stronger, and leaner than last year. However my stress levels are through the roof. I toss and turn then cut swims shorts. I think it’s the weather. Plus, I am so busy at work and at home that I barely have time to think. Oh well.