I recently started going to physical therapy.

I hurt my back two years ago when I moved into my new apartment, a five-floor walk-up.

Since then I haven’t been doing any of the weight training I used to.

I keep re-injuring my mid-back and I decided it was time I need to take care of this.

The physical therapist looked at my back and showed me some very simple excercises she wanted me to do once a day.

The exercises are REALLY simple. Like lying on my back lifting my arms above my head. Old people could do these exersises!

And I don’t want to do them.

I want her to send me to the gym to do 100 reps of pull-downs. Or run a few miles every day. Or do 400 sit-ups every morning. But something easy?

That’s so frustrating. Read the rest of this entry »

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“You were persistent” she says to me.

“I was?” I respond. I had no idea.

“You kept contacting me. I was a little drunk when we met and I didn’t even remember much about you. I never give guys my phone number so I figured I liked you.”

I met her in a bar. I saw her sitting down checking her text messages and sat down next to her.

“Hi!” I’d said with a smile, as if she were my best friend. I had talked to her for all of ten minutes. But we really connected. So I knew she wouldn’t flake.

It took her three weeks before we met up. I’d sent her a few flirty texts in between, some of which she responded to.

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It first came out as a joke.

I’m in an art gallery with my friend looking at some photos. There is a hot photo of a girl with a guitar practically making love to the camera.

“Wow, she’s pretty hot,” I say to my friend.

“Oh yeah. That’s Michelle Branch” he says.

“She wants me, I can tell,” I joke with him.

But in a way, I’m serious.

This superstar, sexy-as-hell girl with a guitar in a photo wants me. There is no way that is reality, is there?

Yes, it is possible. And no, this is not some Twilight Zone episode.

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