Let Me Clear My Throat  

As with all of the previous challenges, I'm not going to spend a lot of time wriggling around in the afterbirth of my triumph. The only real contention I ever seem face at the end of these things anyway is all in my head; for a few days after I'll suddenly sit up in bed at 2 a.m., freaking out over not posting something that was never required of me in the first place. I suppose that's still an improvement on the dog-sized spiders that typically haunt my dreams. I've also got the whole "haven't done a real post in over a month" thing working for me right now, and I couldn't in good conscience continue to call this blog a blog if I didn't catch you up on a few of the banalities of my life.

For starters, I'd like to welcome back the winter beard. Those of you only able to pick me out of a lineup based on my profile picture may be surprised to learn that the stunning facial fur I'm sporting in said pic is not a year-round occurrence. October and November are generally the only time the beard emerges, and by no coincidence the two months unofficially called "the octo-fortnight of awesomeness" around my house. All I really need is to convince someone other than myself to call it that in order to make it official though. Anyway, here's a picture of my progress so far; and yes I realize I need both a haircut and a new camera.

Moving along, I recently checked my blood pressure at one of those free stations that are pharmacy-adjacent at most supermarkets, with some pretty startling results. And I don't mean the kind of startling results we would come up with when I was a kid, like how I could endure 15 seconds of sustained titty-twisting from my older brother before moving enough to activate the station's "Please hold still -- Testing in progress" light. The result in question is the one that showed my blood pressure at 141/69, or as those in the medical community refer to it, stage 1 hypertension. Now despite that being the average of three separate readings the machine gave, I'll concede to the possibility of it being faulty and/or somehow compromised by the four Red Bulls I had earlier that day. All the same, I might have to look a little deeper into making some actual lifestyle changes, as merely talking about them no longer seems to be doing the trick.

There are a few other things I'd like to catch you all up on, several of which are arguably more interesting than my prematurely failing health, but I'm going to take a stab in the dark that your attention spans for reading about these things rivals my own in regards to writing about them, so consider yourselves cut off until Wednesday. However, before I go I wanted to briefly touch on the fact that at some point in the last 10 days I lost a follower. Not that I necessarily care about that sort of thing, but if I did, I would want them to know that they can go eat a dick.

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20 Reasons to Live

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