cha cha cha Chia.

Yesterday after my little poetry workshop (where we all talked like we were on hallucinogens about whimsical words and all that sort of crap), I went down to the Rec Center or whatever to do a little runnie-poos and row machine. I was kind of pent-up with from sitting all morning in a wood-lined room being all hippie-dippy, so I ran pretty hard, rediscovered Strongarm's first album (I've been listening to Advent of a Miracle a lot lately), and even hiked a fake mountain on some climbing machine that lets you pretend to climb whatever you want (I normally stay clear of doing any sort of workout that involves computers). I get out to my bicycle and the tire is flat and since I wasn't planning on doing anything but running I didn't bring my Tire Fixing Gear, so I ended up running home, then running back with said Gear. I'm not telling you this so you'll feel bad or because I think you'll find deep meaning or anything--it's just what I did yesterday. Oh, and the fat girl in my philosophy class just got a MacBookPro, which is lame--I hate to just sit there and watch as her greasy fingers pretend to take notes. We all know she's really just watering the Chia Pet on her dashboard to make it fat, just like her. Man.