Just now, against my better judgment, I tried to watch an episode of Sex & The City. I was doing ok until Kim Catrall's character, Samantha, opened her mouth. I must've blacked out after that, because the next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of I-80E in naught but my shorts with my arms outstretched and looking skyward. And I remember just a faint thought of yearning to be taken away to a better place.

That might've been a step in the right direction, though. After all, I didn't even lose any blood this go-around. With a lot of meditation and electro-shock therapy, I may even get through an entire episode and finally realize what the appeal of that show is.

Wow, this new season of The Real World sucks. I usually watch it religiously, but the suckitude of this one knows no bounds. I haven't been this uninterested since the Paris season a couple years ago. That one was crap, too, except for the time C.T. punched that one guy. That was pretty sweet.

As of tomorrow, I'll have been on my Lenten alcohol fast for four full weeks. I haven't had a drink of anything that so much as sneezes in the direction of being alcoholic in nature. Some of you out there are saying "Yeah, so what. Any guy could do that. No big deal." Well, it's been tough for me, so BACK OFF!!!!

. . .

Actually, all truth be told, the only time it's difficult is on the weekends, when everyone else is having a beer. Or receiving notices from Old Chicago in the mail that a really sweet new Mini Tour is going to start on 3/29 and end on Easter. In other words, it'll end right when I could start it.

Ah well. It's far from the worst thing that has ever happened to me. The experience has aforded me many opportunites for reflection, both upon the season and upon myself in general. And physically, I feel excellent--quite possibly the healthiest I've ever been. I'm going to work hard to keep improving on that end of things.

That said, I'm still looking forward to the end of all this. :)

I can't remember if I mentioned this, but the Aerosmith concert that Angie and I were so long looking forward to on Friday got cancelled. Obviously, we were both pretty bummed out about that. Evidently, Steven Tyler has to have some kind of throat surgery. Another time, perhaps.

There have been quite a few commercials on lately for the next senatorial and gubernatorial elections. I watched one for Pete Ricketts while I was lifting tonight, in which he boasted about fighting the proposed legalized gambling amendment from the Novemeber 2004 election. He might've had my vote, if he hadn't done that. I'm well aware of the damage uncontrolled gambling can do to a person and his family, and I don't want to see slot machines in every bar across Nebraska. But lets be real about this. The Internet has made high stakes gambling available to pretty much anyone with a dial-up connection. So why is it such a big deal to have a couple boats on the Omaha side of the Missouri River? All it would mean is that revenue that had been going to Iowa (and put to good use in schools and elsewhere) would stay in Nebraska.

You can't help but think that would take a considerable burden off the taxpayers. So, no, I won't vote for Pete Ricketts. Nor will I vote for Tom Osbourne, as much as I sincerely admire the guy.

I just saw a commercial for the next episode of Will & Grace. It looks like Britney Spears will guest star. I remember predicting her inevitable self-destruction years ago. Each time I see her on television or in the news, she continues to validate what I said. What can I say? When I'm right, I'm right.

And with that, I'm going to bed. I know this was kind of a short entry. I'll try to do better next time.