I woke up today at 5:30am to get my ass to the store to open it for what I figured would be another boring Sunday at work. Work has been boring thankfully because it gave me a chance to catch up on my internet lurking. My computer finally shit itself out last week, exactly one day after my television did the same. So my tower is at my parent's homestead waiting to hear back from an Uncle I haven't spoken to in over a decade to tear the hard drive apart and sup it up with extra new shiny better parts. I might actually have a computer that will actually have some space on the hard drive to put at least more than 3 CDs on my iTunes. I can't wait. The telly (ha-ha in that country where Matt is from, they call the TV a "telly". What freaks) is the least of my worries. I didn't have cable and I'm not one of those Office, Lost, Heroes, and Grey’s Anatomy freaks that spends too much time discussing whose going to get kicked off an island instead of important like moshing and mosh parts. The only thing I watched on TV was the Minnesota Twins every Sunday after work, where around the 4th inning I'd fall asleep on the couch. It looks like I'll have a TV back before a computer. I can't complain about free shit though, so I ain't gonna. Oh, the worst part about today is not the fact it's a stereotypical Seattle day. It's rainy and cold. It makes me look forward to fall with all the leaf death and the oncoming of a hellish winter in the Upper Northwest. I'm drinking coffee (NW stereotype) and wishing I never threw away all my flannels shirts. If only the local rock station would play some Pearl Jam today would be set. Yeah so the worst part of today is when I woke up the butt crack of dawn. This in itself sucks donkey dong. No I woke up, stretched and felt a stabbing pain come directly from my right nut. My right, you’re left. Holy hell. It was like some wacko was trying to nail my testi to the cross of Ballianity for sin of falling asleep straight after sex and not cuddling. I was thinking, "Oh man, here I am fresh into my 33rd year on Planet Earth and I have nut cancer just like that asshole Tom Green." That would be just the proverbial icing on my shit life. Ball cancer. I couldn't even call into work and try to um, massage my nuts. Yeah ok. No one would answer their phone besides my boss and he isn’t coming in. He never does, apparently he's the only one that can call in sick too. Ugh. So I and my aching sperm home trudged to work in a misty shit rain. All I could think of was about going to a doctor I couldn't possibly afford and then Dr. Death telling me it's either my boy goes under the knife or my life. I get the store open, in pain, this sucks. My jewels are aching and I don't want to be at work with my nut sack screaming "hey buddy FUCK YOU" at me for six hours. I take some aspirin figuring that would help. It did and my berries feel a bit better now. At least non-cancerous. I probably just squished it last night while dreaming about sexy neighbors and invading squirrels (that's a whole 'nother blog). 2.5 hours left.