According to my friend Darrell, who is the closest thing to a hipster that I know, anyone who isn’t in a band in Portland is a DJ. Well, Dave the trainer is also a DJ and told me he was spinning discs (or whatever they call it nowadays) tonight. Well, I had to fix some more broken stuff on my server (so I can get my home email at work, etc) so I missed out.

One of the more interesting topics of conversation at the gym (while Dave was torturing me) was pointing out the women who give us dirty looks. I did have some bad news, though, Jeni at the front desk is leaving. I can’t gossip with her anymore. I might actually have to start exercising.

I broke my gateway computer, which means I had no connection to the intarweb. That means my sister’s silly web site was offline and I was expecting phone calls from at least two people. I only got one call, from my sister, and she just wanted to know how large my ass had gotten lately. (Wanted to know my pants size for some reason. I hope she doesn’t get me plaid pants for Xmas.)

Speaking of my ass, there’s this weird sled thing at the gym. You put weights on it, and lie back, and push the weights up at an angle with your legs. It makes my ass sore. I know, I’m supposed to say, “HURR! MY GLUTES ARE REALLY BURNING!” but I think it’s funnier to say my ass hurts.

And today I got advice from some interesting people at Megacorp about how to attend an ex-girlfriend’s party:

1. (From a guy who used to be a roadie for the Eagles) show up with your new girlfriend, who just turned 18.
2. Just go and drink a lot.

You probably know I took option 2.