The Steroid Era

Yesterday one of the true drawbacks of the Sleepy Pete lifestyle was in full effect.  Due to the specific time restrictions of my current profession (i.e. that I have to work around school hours, since I tutor high schoolers), I had to work all day during the Divisional Round of the NFL playoffs.  This is undoubtedly the best week of the playoffs, and probably the entire season, with two games on each weekend day, and all of the best teams in the league in action.  Resolved not to let my work obligations disrupt my enjoyment of the Sunday games, I set my DVR to record each game, as well as the hour after both broadcasts in case of overtime or an otherwise elongated game.  I avoided checking text messages on my cell phone, just to make sure that some kind soul, unknowingly and with the best of intentions, wouldn't ruin the outcomes for me.  And then, at 6:30, with my day nearly over, I ran into one of my students who had just finished taking a practice exam.  The first thing he said to me?  Hello?  Nope, how about: "Did you see the Colts lost!"  I weighed my options, considering the positives and negatives of giving him a delicious knuckle sandwich, but in the end it was clear that the boy had to die.  I'm kidding, I needed to keep the client.

I decided to watch the game anyway, thinking that perhaps he was misinformed, and it was a good time regardless of this entirely predictable mishap.  I even got to do some good thinking during the game, since I had a hunch that he was right.  And it's because of this that I realized something that I truly enjoy for no apparent reason: I genuinely like it when the commentator tries to indicate something on the screen with the yellow telecaster pen, but the director has already cut back to the live camera, so the announcer is left having drawn a random circle or squiggly arrow on the screen.  Is that weird?

And that's not even all I had a chance to consider.  For example, I'm also thinking about going on steroids.  I've never been particularly burly, and I think it's time for a change.  There are no medical or athletic influences at all, just sheer vanity.

Before I start juicing though, I'm pretty sure that I need to start running again.  I can tell because at this point in my life -- at age 23 -- I need to take a break during sex.  And given my level of, um, endurance, that's like taking a breather half-way up when you only need to climb four flights of stairs.  Fine, three flights.  One flight.  Fuck you.