Less than a week until we see the Sox play in Oakland. We’ll be catcing them on Monday, fresh off their likely weekend of fucking with this year’s losing Yankees.

Other than that future excitement, I spent the evening irrigating my ears and thus removing a veritable heap of wax. An embarrassing amount, actually. Like in a crafty mood I’d have new earwax tapers.

Oh, right and I’m on a self-imposed suicide watch. Someone put a brand-new, shiny, digital scale in the gym at work. My beau and I differ by about 2 pounds. Since he’s fit and wants to do a triathlon this year, I think we can safely assess the chubbier and denser of the two. If I exit the planet now, I’ll start with the weight loss.