baggage's Diaryland Diary

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Boring-Ass Entry

I am always on my ass.

Seriously.

I sleep on my back-which happens to face the same direction as my ass so one could say that I sleep on my ass as well.

I get off my ass when I wake up and then proceed to the sofa where I sit back on my ass and stare out the window for at least 15 minutes.

Then i'm in and out of the shower and the closet, and out the door and into my car-where, (can you guess?) I sit on my ass again. For at least an hour.

Forever's a mighty long time people-and I'm here to tell you, my commute qualifies.

At least according to my ass it does.

Because by the time I pull into the obscenely tight parking spaces that The Great American Journalistic Dinosaur has provided for its employees, this ass of mine hurts.

It's a painful ass.

It wants to stretch, boogie, shake-it was born to move this ass of mine. But, what is it forced to do?

Sit.

Obediently.

And bear the ever-increasing weight of it's owner.

Then, after a short jaunt to my office, I sit my briefcase down, turn on my G4, and, well, sit on my ass again for the next eight hours (at least until 7 or 8 p.m.) where I leave work and get to drive my ass back 60 miles the other fricking pain-in-the-ass way to my home-where I can take off my shoes, and, well, sit my ass down and get some rest.

I'm telling you.

My ass is underutilized, people.

It's overqualified for this sedentary lifestyle that I've grown accustomed to.

It's time for me to get off my ass and do something about it.

But what?

How can I escape this ass-stifling world of mine?

I've no ideas I admit.

Maybe, I'll just sleep on it.

10:40 p.m. - 2002-03-27

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