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Thursday, June 23, 2011

Thoughts on Weight Watchers, Softball, & Picture Posts

Dude.  Weight Watchers.  What gives?

I gave you a try about a year ago and, yeah, you worked for me.  And it was awesome.  I feel like I really learned something in those three months; I really got the drive to eat better, to exercise, to see what I could do about my weight and living the way I wanted to.

But, now, I hate you.

You worked for me.  But you're driving my mother crazy.  And it's killing me.


I went to my first baseball game last night in probably ten years.  It was a Mets/A's game and it went into extra innings - finally ended after thirteen, but we left after the top of the eleventh.  It was refreshing to know I've still got a decent eye, calling balls and strikes, knowing when the outfielder was going to catch that pop fly to center and when he wasn't.  And though I don't need a reason to miss it, I started thinking about my days playing softball.

That sport was my world.  As much as I started to hate practice, I really loved that sport.  I played catch with my mom or my dad, I played games with my friends, I got the nickname "Big Mac."  I had a pretty badass batting average (for a nine-year-old).  Sure, I've probably always had an obsessive personality, meaning I fell in love and lost the game in the blink of an eye.  But I miss it; I do.


Please enjoy this picture of an interview with a competitor on American Ninja Warrior, showing on the SyFy channel on the TV in the hotel room from when I roadtripped down to Wilmington, NC.

Pic spam at its finest, amirite?

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