Strangeness in the Stomachs and other Insights

I've had a strange relationship with food recently. For some reason, I don't really feel like eating it, or part of me feels like eating and part of me doesn't. When I Do eat the food, it tends to make my stomach feel diarrheal and strange, just a bit bloated or something. Maybe it's all this extra beer fat I've added to pad my bony belly. I think I should start lifting weights to turn it into muscle. Maybe then I will have the perfect formula for actually gaining a significant amount of physical stature: drink, lift weights, drink, lift weights. I really blame it on Brian Scofield. I don't know what it is, but being around him makes beer suddenly everpresent.

Rereading my last post, I felt (like I sometimes do) like Jude Law in I Heart Huckabees. I don't know HOW many times I've told that molestation story, and here I am, with no Reason to be thinking about it, but I write it in my little blog. As if my life is so uninteresting that there are just a few moments in existence that are worthy of recounting...and recounting...and recounting. Same with jokes. I've made (as Brian pointedly pointed out) that same at-first funny joke about having a sequel to a sweet romantic movie be a porn. So that the sequel to Single in Seattle would be Couple in Copulation, and it'd just be Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan Humping, ending with a nice money shot and a pun on 'Big'. But, see, I've made that joke Sooo many times, or some variation, so now I probably won't make it ever again. Especially in Brian's presence, the poor guy. He's always there for my repetitive stories/jokes. I really don't feel like I exhibit that quality as often when around other people.

The one problem with the molestation story is that people Will ask for it (ala I Heart) when in a group situation, which will be fine, depending on my mood. I've decided, though, that in normal social situations, I'm not a great storyteller. Get me in front of a group at Chapel during Camp, and I'll rule the room. With insecure artsy folk, I'll be the Man. But within the context of a lot of social situations, I'm much better at riffs (a la 'This must be a tough decision for you. Are you Sure you want to eat the lettuce?) and quickly dropping shocking life-story statements (Instead of telling the entire build-up, just bluntly saying 'I once got molested by a 65 year old spanish man in a hostel in perugia. I was asleep. He was playing with my balls.,' or 'I once wanked it in a library bathroom.') etc.etc. Well nameless kiddos, I'm going to bid you adieu. I need to go to the post office to drop off some mail for grad. school applications and then maybe go 'work out' as they say in Germany and then maybe study for the GRE.