Blathering

My right foot hurts. I've developed a blister in that section of foot directly tucked under your toes, where when the pus flowers within the skin, it traps itself in a place which is impossible to avoid walking on. Bloody hell. I can skate for hours and never have any problems with my feet, but I go for a run on a treadmill and all hell breaks loose.

On the other end of the spectrum, I'm snacking on the world's best almonds (that I've discovered thus far). My Blue Diamond Maui Onion and Garlic flavored ones. I can only find them at one grocery store in town, so I buy about $15-20 worth each time I do a run to that store. I am a hoarder. And I do not share my almonds. They are the only thing in the house which I insist is meant only for me.

Pre-season for derby has started. The girls are practicing and set to have an opening bout in March. We're going to be playing at the VC Fairgrounds from now on, instead of my more familiar turf (and the girls' practice rink) of Freedom Park. I am bored with winter because it means no bouts and occasionally rained out practices. While I could go further into SoCal for the other leagues' bouts, I prefer not to do the drive with the zebras. Plus, I like being partial to my home team. I don't have to play nice, so I'm not gunna.

It occurs to me that when people say that they were "inspired" by something, most of the time they're taking something that someone else did and doing it their own way. So inspiration is really a nice way of saying "stealing." Or "ripping off." And no, I don't think that crediting where you were inspired counts as giving proper credit.

Then I think about how everything is just an off-shoot of something that was done before and that nothing is original. In which case, I say whoever can steal and reproduce an idea the best, more power to them.

I have been getting into "Xmas present" too much. Fist bump to those who understand what I mean by that. For those who don't, sucks to be you because I can't implicate myself publicly. But it's gotten me to thinking about how it's been two years since I quit smoking. I will cop to having a couple of fags over the course of those two years, but I haven't felt the desire to start up again. I firmly believe that smoking is behind me.

There are times when I contemplate writing a column for MatchFlick again. Then I smack myself in the head and move onto the next thought.

I really like the new apartment and the new complex as a whole. Most of the time it's pretty quiet, other than that other night when those people were fucking around in the street about something (I was altered, so the memory is fuzzy now) but I think that had more to do with people driving around and deciding to stop and have an argument on the street rather than anything with the building.

And I don't care if the fact that they require proof of a minimum monthly income means that they exclude broke-ass people. I don't like living around broke-ass people. They stay home too much, make too much noise and are dirty, leaving trash out in their common area or not picking up their dog's shit. Why are these people who clearly can't pay the rent always the ones with the most pets? I have been a broke-ass person, but I was always the kind who paid rent first and worried to pay other shit (like cable, etc) later. Most people aren't like me. Most broke-ass people spend their money on cigarettes, alcohol, going out and other frivolous shit and then fret over not having enough money to pay the rent.

So screw the broke-ass people. Find another place to live. You don't qualify to be here.

I get the feeling I should knock on wood right about now.

There.