The Following Was Written Between 10pm and 1020pm

The gym has been murder lately. Every January it's like this. People, with their lame-ass, "Oh, the holidays are over, back to the gym!" resolutions ruining it for those of us that are AT the damn gym (for all the good it does us. Well, okay...me) all year long.

Why can't these people just hurry up and get back to being lazy bastards?

Instead, I've got every fatty in Manchester running me down in the parking lot and sweating their germs all over me in the locker room.

It seriously took me 10 minutes to find a parking spot tonight; it was like a damn demolition derby out there, and not in the good way. (Seriously, how fun are real demolition derbys? I once went to a fair where people paid 5 bucks to get to hit an old car with a sledgehammer. Good times.)

In brighter news, underwear throughout the country is going to need to be changed at approximately 10pm on Sunday night if the rumors about the new season of "24" are to be believed.

Jack Bauer, baby. He's five-feet six-inches of pure, American awesome. Let's just say I would have him over to play Abu-Ghraib on every surface of my apartment, despite his Manchester Syndrome*.

* Reference to the disease, potentially caused by the water and avoided by few, that causes somewhat limited stature among the men of Manchester, NH.