Training week / The countdown is on…

…to the end of cycle #4? 5? of Wendler’s 5/3/1 method. I
forget which cycle I’m on. Doesn’t really matter, I guess. The
point is, this is the heavy week and when it’s over my body gets to
rest for a bit. Ironically enough, it is over just in time for
little Ms. Ball to make her entrance. Not sure she’ll want to
accommodate my plans for R&R, but I’ll play that by ear. No
real philosophical rants to drop on you today, so I’ll just post a
general overview on the training this week. It’s been a pretty
decent week with some good workouts. My increased carb intake seems
to have helped with energy levels and I haven’t bonked or
completely crashed afterward. It has created a bit of a hit on the
grocery bill, though. Saturday: Bench day. Worked to a double @
245. No call for self-love here, but there has been a slow, steady
increase here. I borrowed some theory from a FB friend of mine and I’ll
see how that translates, too. Waiting for my genius moves from the
past few weeks to take hold. Assistance was high-volume lat work,
and power cleans. Warmed up and cooled down w/ bodyweight dips.
Monday: Deadlifts. This was a storm day and I was pretty jacked for
it. Needed to go for the 500lb lift. Totally focused on pulling
half a ton off the floor. Didn’t come close. Got 465 and damn near
blew out the side of my ear drum. Really. Racked that and moved on.
Assistance work was high-rep triceps on the rope, 100 facepulls for
lats and some standing biceps work. About an hour overall, because
I’m slow in the am. Wednesday: Military press. Got to train w/ the
Leo Hayes football team, which is always a blast. A lot of the boys
are pretty strong and getting better in the weight room. It’s nice
to see and I know a few will be passing my numbers by the time
September rolls around. A couple of them already are. I hate them
most of all. That’s a joke, coach.
Anyway, good lift. Got to a triple of 165. Didn’t calculate it, but
I think it’s close to a PR. Will go for the 200lb single soon.
Assistance was Farmers walk, 210 steps with 70’s. This always hurts
more the next day, because when you’re doing it you look like such
an idiot you don’t think about the pain. I think I did some dips in
there, too. Today I squatted. With some help from 80’s Kenny
Loggins, I worked into a 315 double. Not huge and I could have
bumped it up a bit, but it was getting crowded and full of mirror
bandits. I wanted to go home. Finished with dumbbell bench 5 x 15
w/ 75lbs. So that’s it. Not sure what will come of training in the
next week or so. Pretty much waiting for baby now, so expect some
serious life-affirming words before too long. Oh, and I also heard
from a voice from the past this week. It was a real surprise and
I’m glad it happened. She may be reading this, and if she is, I’m
hoping she’s going to keep in touch. Family. Let’s do this. That’s
it friends and citizens. Keep the peace. Be good to yourselves.
We’re all we’ve got.

Going for bloat

Ok, so a few weeks ago I decided to take a look at my training and make any necessary tweaks and tuning needed to hit a few goals.  I had to avoid my belief system that overanalyzing anything is akin to self-loathing and ended up really getting into the guts of what I was doing in the gym.  I read.  I researched.  I overanalyzed thereby making me Satan.  In the end, what I came up with was pretty minimal, but it’s been effective and has gotten my manflow moving nicely.  That’s a treat and I know you all enjoyed the imagery there.

So mainly, I lift things up and put them down.  No real academic pedigree needed there, but for those who are new to this, there is a bit more.  Not a lot, mind you, and some ‘trainers’ will tell you that there is an elaborate science to the whole thing and they will use expensive words and make you think this is going to take forever to understand, so you’d better sign on for 12-18 billable hours.  Here’s some advice…next time you or somebody you know is working with a trainer, and this professional gets you to do something, ask them why. Not to be contradictory, but seriously…why.  Why is that specific movement or combination of movements being prescribed to you/them.  There needs to be a reason.  Training is all about economy.  Most people (and I say most because we are individuals) have a window of 45-65 minutes in which to train productively.  After that, you actually go backwards.  If they can’t show you that they’ve put together a program that makes sense for you and your body, cut them free.  Then kill them.  There are enough to go around and you’d open up space for the rest of us to train.  It’s win-win and I don’t need to wait while some loudmouth waste of sweat tells his girlfriend how strong he is when she would rather move aside for the handsome stranger behind her (that’s me).

Here’s what I added.  Still doing 5/3/1 with dedicated days to squat, bench, military press and deadlift.  These are just assistance work and tweaks.  All exercises are compound movements.  If you can hit 3 muscle groups with one movement, it only makes sense.  Leave bicep curls to the faux hawks. 

Lots of food.  I’m eating like a monster.  2300+ calories a day.  I say that, but I can’t be bothered to count.  I just eat all day and assume it’s enough.  If I don’t get stronger, I’ll eat more.  Simple.  And I’ll put sour cream on everything.  Sexy.

Power cleans.  These are hard fuckers, but I’m good at them.  Not sure why.  Must be that time I gave to charity. 

Dumbell cleans.  This hits everything and makes me really look like I know what I’m doing in the gym.  Usually it’s because I sweat and kind of turn colour.  Walking away from these creates that wobbly strong man stance that make women stare and talk in hushed tones.  I can only assume that bald men in ripped tshirts are the new thing. 

Heavy rows.  Get to 50 reps. 

And that’s it.  I’m simplifying everything and I feel like a damn genius.  Training has been intense and things are finally moving.   

Here’s a band I’ve been listening to.  You won’t understand them because they’re Mexican.  I put their lyrics into a translator.  It’s best you don’t know. 

I really like that such an evil band is playing in a stark white set.  They must have blown all their money on leather masks and rubber.

Where I’m from

“Where I’m From”

I am from the salt water sea.

From coconut Coppertone and Coca Cola.

I am from the screen door, broken in wind and the oily scented back garage and my grampy’s secret room.

I am from the dried out lawn and uncut field of razor grass.

From the birds in the red mud bank that I can hear, but never see but I know they’re there

Because I’m the only one around for miles.

I’m from toilet plunger clam digging and running away from the tide.

From the fingertoes from my father and grandfather and onto my sons .

I’m from the tough love and ’You know how I feel.  Why do I need to tell you?’

And the albatross arms on my way to the west.

From ’Just never lie to me’, but doing it anyway

And ’family is more important than anything’ and the duality of assuming you know what happens.

I’m from Sunday school dropouts, misrepresented preachers

And fake life teachers.

I’m from the Celts, the French and the Portugese.

From shepherd’s pie and tourtiere and meatballs as big as my fist.

From driving away to escape the shit.

To lost barfights and being saved by my bride.

And I’m from finally clearing it out, taking stock and finding that the most important person to call a hero isn’t wearing a cape or a jersey.  It’s the one that figured it out themselves and I’m from where I’m at right now.

I’m from ‘Home is where the heart is’ and that’s the best place for it.

Cool words

Check this out.  I like this poem, but I’m not sure why.

Twofold

I am an enigma.

I am passion and peace.

I am fury and I am calm.

I am both pain and solace facing the same means.

Saved and a savior.

I have heard the quiet words and made them mine.

I have counted and been counted upon in unequal time.

I am anger’s saving grace

But for a minute where anger got the better

And lashed out placing an enigma in life’s tight corner.

Enigmatic fools are the only delivery of recognition

And shunned because recognition is fury’s fire.

And there is recognition in the enigmatic.

Blasting off the dust

So it’s been a while, hasn’t it?  I’ve missed you.  But that’s not why we’re here.

The last few weeks have been a bit of a haze.  For various reasons — personal and social — my head hasn’t been quite right so I kind of retreated for a while.  Not abnormal for me, really, and it’s kind of a decent time to explain the whole ‘blast or dust’ concept that is such a part of this forum.

I can’t take credit for the term.  It was, as far as I can figure, coined by a guy named Dave Tate.  Dave is a powerlifter, author and CEO of Elite Fitness Systems.  I could go into detail on Dave, but I won’t.  Just know that he’s pretty interesting and shows that meathead gym guys aren’t all stupid.

Dave came up with the term ‘blast or dust’.  He even made an extremely complex scale.

The idea is basically this:  most of us are able – as far as I know – to live in control.  Most of us have extremes from time to time, but for the most part their lives interests, concerns, qualities .. all the things that make them who they are.. are in control.  There are times, however, when some of us (me, for example) throw themselves into something at the risk of almost everything else.  We become myopic in its pursuit.  We research, plan, daydream, research and plan some more, trying to excel at one or two particular things.  This is blast.  I’m assuming that we have all blasted from time to time.  In my case, it is far too regular an occurrence.

“Look at that guy / girl.  What excellent dedication to a goal.”

“Look at that fool / girl.  A little excessive, no?”

To be completely honest, the truth lies somewhere in the middle.  At least I hope it does.  There have been quite a few instances in my life where something grabs me in the hoohas and won’t let go.  I focus on it to the point that it consumes me.  Sometimes, it has actually been quite productive; weight training, for example.  At other times, it’s a little off.  A recent obsession with aquarium fish that has resulted in a pretty impressive display of very large South American Oscars.

There is another side to it, as well.  Like the rest of the world, blasters have lives outside their recent OCD fix, and this seems to be what takes a bit of a hit.  I’m not saying I’ve abandoned my family or sold my car in the hunt for gym gear, fish tanks or bass effects — I smugly assign that to the title of ‘addict’ — but I have certainly sacrificed time, money and health better spent somewhere else in the effort to excel or be the best at something.

So what’s the end result?  Is it good?  Is it destructive?  I guess that on one hand, I have become good at a few things.  I can play the double bass which is really not easy. Because of the thousands of hours spent in the gym and hundreds of articles, studies and books read on the subject, I think I know a bit about safe and effective training.  Certainly more than those pencildick newbs who routinely get the elderly to move weight in ways that will only leave them injured and hating the road to health.  I never understood that.

And my fish are pretty cool.  In this case, I got lucky.  Jenni blasted, too.  We have a great tank, and a couple of cool fishhead connections.

The ability to see clearly through this blast is what keeps it in ballast (a play on words, no?).  This is my issue, and it is a real pisser.  See, eventually, one of two things happens.

a)  You blast so much that you lose touch with other interests.  This is dust.  That which once consumed you gets consumed.  It’s not that you love it less, but the passion isn’t quite there.  We’ve all done it.  Hobbies, girlfriends, favourite cookies.  Hell, I went through a phase where I had to eat Mexican food.  There wasn’t a tamale, bean or rice that wasn’t somehow paired with chicken or shredded pork.  This happened every day for weeks and I smelled bad.

b)  You blast to the point that it goes full circle and bites its own ass.  Such is the case during the summer when I have more time in the gym than I know what to do this.  Every summer for the past three years I go in with the plan to not over train and every summer, I become violently ill because I haven’t given myself more than 24 hours to recover in over a month.  The first and second time I can laugh it off.  “Har! Har!  Me so hardcore!”  When it happened this summer, I might as well have admitted that I needed help.  The OCD had taken over.  The difference between hardcore and plain old stupid was clear and I was a moron.  I’d say I learned my lesson.  We’ll see in July.

Anyway, this all seems like a drastic reaction to what is really more than a character disturbance.  OCD lite.  I don’t mind it.  Never really labelled it until Mr. Tate brought me out of the blaster closet.  Sometimes I seem excessive.  But man, when you sink yourself into something to the point that you need to know everything there is about it, you really learn a lot.  I’ve been lucky.  Someday I’ll slow down or receive proper medication, but right now i’m ok with it.

Who else is a blaster?  Are we all in it to some degree?  Are there closeting addicts of odd hobbies?  Where are you?

Here is my workout for this past week.  It’s my deload week and I only went once.  I am burning to get back in there.  Big plans this coming week.  Things are changing.  Tomorrow will be all about planning.

All exercises, low weight, 5 x 20 reps.  Low pressure, big swell.

Dynamic effort bench.  135-155

tricep pressdown.  No idea the weight.  Reps 80-100 burned.

facepulls.  Same effect. Kroc rows.  This was stupid and if I had a brain in my head I would not have put these into a deload week.  Damage done.  Aleve in my desk.

My playlist has evolved.  Listening to Throwdown, which is an offshoot of Pantera after Darrell got shot.  Pretty decent.  Not as angry, but it’ll do.  Also listening to A Perfect Circle.  Depressing rock.  Not sure that’ll return.  Finished w/ a bit of Cannibal Corpse and live Slipknot. That’s it.  Tomorrow is bench day.  Time to eat.

Narcissist’s Training log and paying for strangers to touch me.

5/3/1 * 3rd Cycle * Week 2

I’ve been going through an absolute brain fuck the past couple of weeks. Making dumb
decisions. Losing it on a class (this never happens), forgetting
emails, etc. No real reason. Just running out of mental hard drive
space. It even had me tailspinning at work. Not cool when you’re
part of a large team taking on a larger job. I was able to corral
it a bit and nobody got too stressed out. Lesson learned.

My training has also been a victim of this cerebral crush. I’ve been
burning to train, but when it comes time to load it up, I just
can’t concentrate. The focus hasn’t been there. I’m blaming some of
this on a recent shoulder injury.

I got a deep tissue massage the other day. If you’ve never had one of these, ‘massage’ is a
complete misnomer. It fucking hurt. She even told me it was going
to hurt — not a good sign. This particular massage therapist had
worked on my back over the summer and really did a great job on it,
so I figure the pain will be worth it.

Any time I go to a massage therapist I always find conversation to be a bit of an art. I’m not
good at relaxed conversation to begin with, but when you’ve got
your shirt off in front of a stranger with oily hands and dimmed
lights, it’s time to come up with an exciting story. I had a male
therapist for a while — a man-ssage — and he was effective, but
you can only talk about sports and weightlifting for so long before
you realize you’re getting rubbed down by a dude. I’m not
homophobic at all. Maybe I just got tired of telling folks that Ben
rubbed my back.

So I really got off track there. What I was getting
at is massage conversation and the art therein. The girl I have now
takes great joy in telling me how all the muscle, tendons and
ligaments are put together. It’s actually really interesting
because those anatomy charts are really, really off. I guess when
you peel a person’s skin off it just doesn’t look all smooth like
that. It’s interesting, but it seems to really make it a little
more real. At one point, she was pressing her thumb between two
levels of muscle tissue (did you know that there were two levels of
chest muscle?). I swear I could feel the levels on either side of
her thumb. I felt like one of the cadavers on CSI. I suppose it’s a
lot like that. Dim lights. Tight clothing. Bizarre instrumental
music. The feeling of intense pain. If I had a sucking chest wound
and powder burns, we’d be set. Anyway…I hope it’s a means to an
end, because as far as massage goes, I was closer to tears than
enlightenment

Thursday: Warm up — 50 chins / pullups

Deadlifts 5 reps at 250 / 285 7 reps at 325

Standing Good Mornings — 5 x 10 @
135…really worked hamstring and lower back for this. Focusing on
improving squat. Did something else, but I forget what it was.

Saturday

Bench day…tough go today, as this is how I hurt my
shoulder to begin with. Decided to just do prescribed reps and sets
with proper form and go from there. Didn’t have a ton of time
because the boys were at the daycare and they were closing in 50
minutes. This resulted in a piss poor warm up. I could remind how
this usually turns out, but I will assume you’d rather go through
my archives and read it for yourself.
Bench: 10 reps at 135 and 185
3 reps at 185 and 205 7 reps at 215.

These last reps should not
have hurt my shoulder. That sucks and I’m getting nervous about it.

5×10 dumbbell bench press at 75lbs.

3x 20 bent over rows * 135.
These are awesome, but pretty much test your mental strength. I was
hanging out with another lifter at the time, so pretty much had to
get through them in order to walk around in that macho stance that
is so indicative of the narcissist (C!).

That’s it. I’ve promised
myself that today would be a day without school work. Time to get
out of here. Starbucks is calling me.

Holiday lifts

Yesterday I started my 3rd rotation of Jim Wendler’s 531
program for powerlifting. It took me two cycles of
experimenting, but I think I have it where it needs to be and any
tweaking of numbers and assistance exercises can be figured out in
the short term. We’ll see. Yesterday was bench press day.
Nothing exciting to report. My shoulder is still
bothering me, but my deload week helped out and I have a massage
scheduled for Tuesday. This will at least give me a focus and
a bit more info as to how I can keep it from becoming a real
problem. Right now, I can ignore it, but it’s keeping me from
doing a true 1RM. Warm up with light bench Every set of every
exercise followed w/ 10 bodyweight pullups in different hand
positions. 3 sets x 5 reps / 155 / 185 / 205…nothing huge.
Just did my reps and called it at that for bench. 5 x10
rolling db extensions / 50lb each. 5 x 10 bodyweight dips. That’s
it…used the ‘I ain’t doing shit today’ program and got out. Today
was a bigger day. I slept ok and power ate. Squats.. warmed
up w/ light sets x 20 / 15 / 8 3 sets x 5 reps @ 185 / 245 /
285 1 set of a single at 315 with knee wraps. I’m still
trying to figure out the best way to get these to work for me.
Mostly mental, I guess. Felt pretty good at this point…
Assistance exercises Kroc rows with 135 barbell. 2 sets x 20
reps. Gutted the last one out. I’ll be putting these
into my routine more regularly now. I’m really noticing how
much mass I don’t have with my back. This will be a
concentration for at least this cycle. More pull ups and
rows. Power Squat machine…I have never used this before, as I
usually try to stay away from the machines unless I’m injured.
I did some research last night on how to safely train for
squat depth. This was a suggestion. It was also an ego
boost. I’ve never had this weight on my back before
(technically not on my back this time either, but you get the
point). I
liked the depth here, but it starts to look a bit shaky coming off
the deck. Anyway, I need to wrap this up. Doubtful I’ll walk
much more today. Legs are stsrting to seize up already.
Later…I’ll leave with this video. I usually try to not
criticize the gyms people choose to go to. If it works for
them, then go to it. If you do your best, you’re always
improving. This place, however, is a pariah. Check it
out. Grunt, snort.

A blog because it was too long to be a status.

Y’know, I think I’m a pretty smart fellow.  Not a genius, perhaps.  Maybe not even a ‘great mind’ or ‘Road Scholar’, but I can hold my own on a variety of topics.  International affairs?  Hey, I got that!  The role of electronic media in an increasingly cynical world?  Let’s chat.  The inclusion of ‘The Jordan Rules’ on the 1988 Detroit Pistons team?  Pick me!

But how many times am I going to have to drive my snowblower over an extension cord before I actually remember to move the f***ing thing?!

That’s it.  The tally so far is 4.

This is what I mean, the generation machine

Yeah, so that title doesn’t make much sense to most of you. There’s a song by Public Enemy that kind of fits the title, but that’s not what I’m writing about today.

Actually, I really don’t know what I’m writing about.  I just feel like writing and since you felt like clicking…well, here we are.

A friend and colleague of mine writes the blog wildmudturtle and posted a link the other day that basically gave random writing prompts.  I have it open and will be writing about whatever comes up.  I will do this until I get bored.  Or hungry.

Click 1:  Do we really need more than 50 kinds of shampoo?

Ummm…no.  Well, I don’t know.  Even when I had hair, I pretty much just used what was around.  I did always enjoy the smell of Pert plus though.  Moving on.

Click 2:  10 people alive today that I admire the most and would like to emulate:  I think somebody is generating these in the effort to make my life difficult, because I really don’t know.  As far as I can remember in my life, I never had a ‘hero’.  When I read that back, it sounds sad; like I lived in a swamp or something, but that’s not the case.  I remember always being really impressed with MacGyver because, well, he was MacGyver.  I also thought Bruce Willis’ character on Moonlighting was really cool.  I think his name was David.  I thought the way he smirked at Maddie was awesome and I used to practice it.  I thought if I ever got a girlfriend, it would be cool to do that.  She would think I was a badass.  In grade 8, that was very important.  I wonder how that would have worked out.

But somebody to emulate?  Hmmm…it’s so hard because the question itself seems to suggest that it should be somebody famous, but I was never comfortable with that.  I could say that I want to be just like __________, but what if that person is a complete jackhole when the camera is off?  Doesn’t seem worth it.

Ok…I got one.  Pierre Trudeau.  No question.  I really like the way that he stood up for what he believed in and if anybody disagreed with him, then clearly they were wrong.  On the rare occasion that he was incorrect, he would take it respectfully.  Yeah.  Him.  Aside from that, I’m my own hero.  Boom.

Click 3:  What relationships have had the greatest impact on your life?

I met and married Jenni.  Without her, I would be done.  No question.  There have been other meetings and relationships, but to call them significant in comparison would be inaccurate.

Click 4:  If your life story were a book, what would it be titled?

Ha!  That’s a funny question.  How do I answer that?  “Should have been Medicated”.  Nah, too depressing.  Ok, pass on that.

Click #5:  You are forced to flee from your home and relocate 2,000 miles away. You can take only what you can carry in your arms. What will you take?

Jenni and the kids.  Assuming that I only need to carry them to the waiting private jet and that my iPhone is in my pocket.

Click #6: My worst enemy…

I can’t say that I really have one.  I’m a pretty peaceful person for the most part.  I’ve been in fights, but it was more bravado or self-defence than real animosity.  I do have a bad temper, though.  There are three people in the world, though, that I would completely unload on.  Aside from that, I usually can’t be bothered with enemies.  If people are upset with me, I tend to either not realize or forget.  If they’re out there, I really hope I find out before it’s too late.

Click #7:  Where do you see yourself in five years?

I have no idea.  My kids will be 5, 7 and 12.  I see myself driving them around a lot.  I am happy with my life, and I really don’t have any large-scale life changes planned.  I would like to get to Australia, but I would take Boston if that’s all we can afford.  I had an awesome summer last year, so let’s do that again.  Lots of beaches.  Oh!  I want to compete in a powerlifting competition by the time I’m 40, too.

But that’s, like, 15 years away.

Later…time to eat.

For sale by owner

One of my big goals for the Christmas break was to clean and organize our house.  Normally, Jenni and I will do our best to keep things under control; cleaning when we can and doing bigger, more organize-y jobs on the weekend.  Lately, though, it seems as though this is just not happening.  Drains aren’t draining, small appliances never seem to fix themselves and we have an increasing number of junk drawers.  I’ve even developed a new sense of empathy for the unwitting subjects of ‘Hoarders’.

“Oh, come on.  Was anybody REALLY going to use that room?  Seems like a perfectly good place to store 9 years of the New York Post.  Leave her alone.”

We’ve been pretty productive toward our goal.  Our main hallway has a light.  The smoke detector works.  All water now drains freely from its basin.  I can safely open the crawl space door.

Today was the day we had reserved to drive all of our old, beat up belongings to the dump.  This would clear out all the space we needed to re-organize and make our living space more comfortable.  A futon we had in university.  Old guitar pedals I haven’t played in years.  A dog kennel.  Computer accessories that were, at one point, cutting edge but have since become nearly museum quality.

“Really?  I can actually write my very own CD? ”

“What?  You mean it’s 250 megabytes of actually memory?  I could hold most of my photos on that!”

At one point all of these were significant to me.  Although it had been years since I hadn’t  used any of the items, I still had emotional attachment to them.  Speakers I had partied with in my apartment on Charlotte.  Music effects that I played in bars in a number of cities.  Basketball shoes…well, you know.  But I knew it was time.  They had been on death row for a while now, and the Governor just wasn’t going to call today.  A friend of mine was over and I thought I would offer him the speakers just in case.  It would save me a few bucks taking them to the dump.  This is when he offered me the best idea I had heard all break…

Kijiji.

Of course!  Why did I not think of this?  I had used it before, but not like this.  I had bought and sold specific items.  Aquarium pieces.  Baby furniture.  A shelf?  With minimal time commitment, I could save myself the money it would cost to dump my stuff (tipping fee?  Stupid euphemism).  I could make a few bucks to ease the pain.  And most importantly — I could have some beer this afternoon, rather than do housework!  A perfect plan.

So I did it.  I hauled out anything that I could find that wasn’t broken and took a photo of it.  It was sad. I was anthropomorphizing my junk.  A chorus / sustain pedal looked at me.  “But why…remember…how I made your jazz sound?”  My speakers — third hand even when I got them — seemed down.  Disappointed that the time had finally come.  I was the executioner, photographing and identifying the doomed.

I never expected the reaction to be so quick.  For those unfamiliar with kijiji, it becomes a strange view into a cross section of society.  People ask questions, and generally try to barter with you.  It’s like a big electronic yard sale.  And this is where I took issue.

“Do you realize,” one respondent to a distortion pedal ad wrote “that I could buy a new one of those for only 10 – 20 dollars more?”

What?  Clearly, this ass did not realize just how many miles this pedal has travelled with me.  I’m certain that if he had known it was at the frisbee gig, that it was at my very first blues jam night in BC, and that it could make my strat sound just like Stevie Ray’s…well, he would offer me 10-20 more than I asked.  I decided it best just to take it off the market.

While writing this, I have gotten two more responses for other pieces I’ve out online.  My futon — at one point, the best feature of my apartment — is sold.  This person, I feel, had a Jedi power.  When learning that I could not deliver it in the city, he managed to talk me down an extra 10 dollars.  Jenni says it’s ok, though, so I won’t feel like an idiot.  I won’t miss it.  My dog peed on it.  And considering it spent a lot of time in university…well…if CSI ever flashed one of those black lights on it, the reflected array would be a thing of true beauty.

So now I’m left to watch the ‘view count’ stat rise on my electronic yard sale table.  11 on the futon.  12 on the kennel.  28 on the speakers (I should have asked for more $$$).  In the couple of hours since I posted them, I’ve potentially made 50 bucks.  Not bad.  But maybe I’ll just put them all back in the storage room.