A Way Homer

I started a new life this morning. At 6:30 AM, I woke up, I put on some clothes, and I hit the gym. How does this contrast with my normal daily routine? On a typical day, I wake up at 8:30 and squirt cupcake frosting directly into my mouth.

So, how was it? Am I loving this new life of activity? Uhh, no. I managed to get to the gym by about 6:45 and I started stretching when it hit me: what the hell was I doing at the gym at 6:45 in the morning? It'd be understandable if I were, oh, Lance Armstrong or Lou Ferrigno, but I'm just a regular guy. Regular people have no business exercising at that hour of the day, unless they're driven to do so by a crazed dictator.

Even though I've whined and moaned constantly about this schedule, I feel like I have to see it to the end of the week. Based on how sleepy I've been so far today, expect me to lapse into a Rip Van Winkle-esque coma by Wednesday.

I was really happy to see the Coen Brothers win for Best Director and Best Picture, as I am a fan of those boys. Proof? I even liked The Ladykillers. I think I could draft a whole theory on personality and tendency towards crappitude based on whether an individual likes Raising Arizona. The proof is in the pudding.