Fuck. Me.
I feel like death.
I'm exhausted. Pissed. Hung over. Did I mention pissed? How about exhausted?
I have the worst dark circles under my eyes.
I feel like my head's stuck inside of a jar... my feet are swollen, and I'm walking around as if I stepped on a cactus... this all fucking sucks.
I'm definitely getting too old for this shit.
While the wedding shenanigans were quite memorable, AND I laughed like a maniac the majority of the time...
I just couldn't handle it.
I haven't had adequate sleep for a few days, and my body's making me pay. People make a big deal out of my inability to put up with a few bad days of sleep, but I want them to spend two hours a day, six days a week powerlifting/kickboxing and then get back to me if they only allow their body three hours of sleep a day. Anyone who says they can handle that is FULL of shit. Your body needs time to recuperate, and having someone force ME to stay up until the wee hours of the night and wake up at the asscrack of dawn is INSANE. So pardon ME for snapping at you.
This weekend, I'd go to bed at around three in the morning, and I'd be expected to be up by 7... but of course, there were numerous interruptions to those much anticipated four hours of sleep... like my drunken brother calling me at 4:30 expecting a ride home... or a drunk cousin informing me my drunk brother was lost... shit of that nature.
There was even a fucking flat tire involved... EVEN a Great Dane terrorizing me in my vehicle... all "Cujo"-like.
Eventful, frustrating weekend where I looked like shit, and felt even MORE like shit.
To add insult to injury, my beloved godson suffered his first disillusionment with the world yesterday.
His super important, international body-building meet was yesterday, one I had to back out of attending with him as support.
Personally, and maybe I'm saying this because he's my blood and I love him like my baby, I think he had it in the bag.
He's ridiculously handsome... and muscle-wise, it's... phenomenal. No, seriously, look for yourself:
Back in November, he won first place in his division, which was "novice youth."
This time around, he didn't even place top 6... which I think is a HUGE crock of shit.
He lost to the dude in the blue undies:
Needless to say, my boy's devastated.
I'm gutted for him.
BUT... regardless, he'll always be my boy.
My heart.
My kid.
I'll ALWAYS be infinitely proud of him...
Because I KNOW he's a boss.
Next time. He's going to knock this shit to a whole new level. I have faith... he does have that ambitious spirit we're known for: we only gain momentum once told we can't do something.
I feel like death.
I'm exhausted. Pissed. Hung over. Did I mention pissed? How about exhausted?
I have the worst dark circles under my eyes.
I feel like my head's stuck inside of a jar... my feet are swollen, and I'm walking around as if I stepped on a cactus... this all fucking sucks.
I'm definitely getting too old for this shit.
While the wedding shenanigans were quite memorable, AND I laughed like a maniac the majority of the time...
 |
| How do you know I've had one too many shots? I do that obnoxious, stereotypical "kissy" face... my subconscious, making fun of 8/10 of the chicks on my FB |
I haven't had adequate sleep for a few days, and my body's making me pay. People make a big deal out of my inability to put up with a few bad days of sleep, but I want them to spend two hours a day, six days a week powerlifting/kickboxing and then get back to me if they only allow their body three hours of sleep a day. Anyone who says they can handle that is FULL of shit. Your body needs time to recuperate, and having someone force ME to stay up until the wee hours of the night and wake up at the asscrack of dawn is INSANE. So pardon ME for snapping at you.
This weekend, I'd go to bed at around three in the morning, and I'd be expected to be up by 7... but of course, there were numerous interruptions to those much anticipated four hours of sleep... like my drunken brother calling me at 4:30 expecting a ride home... or a drunk cousin informing me my drunk brother was lost... shit of that nature.
There was even a fucking flat tire involved... EVEN a Great Dane terrorizing me in my vehicle... all "Cujo"-like.
Eventful, frustrating weekend where I looked like shit, and felt even MORE like shit.
To add insult to injury, my beloved godson suffered his first disillusionment with the world yesterday.
His super important, international body-building meet was yesterday, one I had to back out of attending with him as support.
Personally, and maybe I'm saying this because he's my blood and I love him like my baby, I think he had it in the bag.
He's ridiculously handsome... and muscle-wise, it's... phenomenal. No, seriously, look for yourself:
 |
| His first competition, Nov '11. My kid is the one in black shorts |
 |
| April 2012 |
 |
| May 2012 |
This time around, he didn't even place top 6... which I think is a HUGE crock of shit.
He lost to the dude in the blue undies:
 |
| SERIOUSLY! Compare my boy's quads to the eventual winner. FUCKING CROCK. My boy's 100% BEEF. |
I'm gutted for him.
BUT... regardless, he'll always be my boy.
 |
| Silly little one. |
 |
| Still silly... trying to make me laugh as I bore him with my stories of woe. |
 |
| Shoulder to cry on when our Abue passed away. |
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| Support system. |
Next time. He's going to knock this shit to a whole new level. I have faith... he does have that ambitious spirit we're known for: we only gain momentum once told we can't do something.
2 comments:
They must have been judging based on orange-ness of skin.
seriously! The more unnatural the spray tan, the higher the points...
Based on what he has said, it was all rigged, even the winner said he did not agree with the manner in which they judged the competition. Guy's a good dude... just a rotten situation.
It's no surprise Mexico doesn't win shit-- they go off and snub folk that actually have a chance.
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