Gah! This thing itches like mad. I get the stitches out tomorrow, but have another 24 hours left before that happens. If I think about it, it drives me nuts. If I don't think about it, then, well, it's bearable. What is it about the healing process that makes it so annoyingly painful (itching being a low-grade, localized pain).

Several years ago, I bet Kris I could pee farther than he could. He told me he'd take that bet in a heartbeat. Tonight, once again, I bet him, given a full bladder and the right angle, I could pee farther than he could. To my surprise, I had intimidated him into saying, no, he wouldn't take that bet.

We were having dinner with Tyler and Heather at the newly opened, local Indian house (notes to self: veggie Korma delicious, chicken Korma sucky suck, garlic naan means no kisses, but is oh-so-very tasty!). I wish I could recall how the conversation went, but somehow we managed to arrive at the topic of peeing distances. Tyler expressed disbelief at my assertion.

I had once told Kris I could do 100 situps, no problem. He bet me $100 (our standard bet) I couldn't do 100 in an hour. I won, but only just barely. It's become our standard measure by which we gauge how likely some seemingly innocent statement is true ("Sure. And I can do 100 situps. In an hour.").

Update: Was talking to Roshan, and yes, we agreed that 100 situps in an hour is ridiculously easy. So, I'm clearly misremembering the incident. It must have been 100 situps in like 10 minutes, but Kris was gracious and gave me 15, or something like that.

So, sure, I can pee farther than you. And I can do 100 situps. In an hour. (Ignoring the fact that, yes, I really can do 100 situps in an hour, and in far, far less than than hour, but that's because I train.)

I had to describe to Tyler various requirements, then commented that my smaller bladder and higher pressure, compared to Kris's larger bladder and lower pressure, was guaranteed to win. He tried to counter with Kris' amazing stomach muscles being able to force the urine out more effectively, but was thwarted by my comment, "His abs are no match for my Kegel exercises. Which I'm doing. Right. Now."

I learned to pee standing up a long while ago, but the website I learned from has since been bought out and redirects to a sucky-suck site now. The best I could find was the recently discovered (for me) NSFW site, with her description of the process. It's as I recall, but without the pictures and helpful comments.

I'll need to wait until after Heather moves out before I practice in the shower hitting one wall with my back against the other wall.

Heather asked me tonight if I was interested in work again. I had worked until eight trying to get a client project working, and was planning on working more in the evening. It's a welcome change from the previous month where I felt I was going through the motions of working. Yes, work was being completed. Yes, it was done well. But, no, my heart wasn't particularly in it. And, no, I wasn't particularly interested in any of it. When my motivation for doing a project is not to disappoint someone else, perhaps it's best to move on to another project.

Kinda relates back to the "program happy" mentality that 37signals tries to foster.

Happily, I can say that, yes, I am interested in work again. Since the surgery from last week went so well, I'm relieved, happy and engaged in life again. I saw my nutritionist again last week, too, and adjusted my diet a bit. Perhaps the adjustments have also contributed to this better sense of well-being.

You blog about the smell of your poop?!

Paul asked me that. Eh, what can I say? It happens. It's not like I haven't mentioned farts before. I guess I hadn't mentioned exactly the smell before, though.

And it's not like I don't have a role model or anything. Because, don't you know, Everybody Poops.

Though, I guess not everyone knows what his poop smells like.

Or what his grandparents' smelled like, either.

Heather is moving in tomorrow and Kris and I will gain a roommate! No more prancing around the house naked. No more sex in the kitchen. No more sunburns on the butt from gardening without clothes on. No more marathon smootching sessions on the couch.

Oh wait, we didn't do those things anyway.

Mom helped me clean up the house in preparation for the cleaning crew. Why is it that people will clean a house in preparation for the cleaners to come over? Well, not me! I stand by my decision to pay someone to clean my house! I insisted Mom and Kris help me declutter the house. Kris kept trying to clean ("Oh, I just want to sweep the floor. Should I wash out the tub? It looks dirty." "Of course it looks dirty! That's why we're having the cleaners come out to clean!").