they can have my keyboardwhen they pry it out of mycold, dead scrotal sac

Windy out tonight! God's been eatin' dem beans! But I was thankful, because it made the Namsan hike bearable. As it turned out, I didn't hit Namsan yesterday; I was simply too pooped. My "power nap" ended around 11:45pm, and I was still tired, so I simply pried off my contacts and went back to sleep.

The extra day of rest was helpful: my legs were in fine form this evening-- no inordinate muscle tightness. The wind did its part by whisking away the envelope of hot air hovering around my massive, overheated form. I believe that's called convection-- one of four ways for the body to lose heat. The other three ways are radiation, conduction, and evaporation, if I'm not mistaken. Gotta go check a mountaineering first aid guide.

Only one little thing marred my hike this evening: an eyelash decided to take up residence in my lower left eyelid somewhere before the final set of stairs. I did the stairs anyway, without stopping (as that's the cardinal rule), and actually forgot about the eyelash for most of the hike home. It reminded me of its presence when I got back to my dorm, and I removed it just a few moments ago.

I realize that, on the Grand Scale of Manliness, hiking up a giant hill with an eyelash irritating your eye isn't particularly impressive. I wish I had a more exciting story for you-- one in which I get attacked by feral retarded men who gut me and leave me for dead at the bottom of the Koreanische Philosophenweg, but I get up and make it to the top of Namsan by gathering the loops of my intestines and slinging them over my shoulder like a garden hose, enduring the swarms of flies and mosquitos looking for a tasty gastric treat. Alas, it's a rare day when my personal life mirrors a Stephen King novel or a Paul Verhoeven film, so you'll just have to make do with the wayward eyelash.

Curious: sometime last week or the week before, I wrote my 3000th post. That averages out to a thousand posts a year, or somewhat fewer than three posts a day. Some might accuse me of having a lot of time on my hands. I say it's just a matter of doing the things you value. Having an inner life doesn't strike me as particularly shameful, though some people shake their heads and mock the pensive. Retards.

So this is the first post of what will now be my fourth year of blogging. I'm a bit disappointed, actually, because I somehow neglected to include anything about sheep fucking. Ah, well. A post for another day.


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