Klutzmael

I love the frozen tun­dra that is the cam­pus of the University of Notre Dame. Why did Cro-Magnon have to fol­low the game north? Couldn’t we have just been hap­py as fru­gi­vores? I am a trop­i­cal pri­mate dammit! I need 70 de­grees and 80% hu­mid­i­ty. If I lived in Fiji I could run around naked and be per­fect­ly com­fort­able (ex­cept for maybe the skeeters). But NO! I am forced to wear an abun­dance of an­i­mal fur and plant fibers and syn­thet­ic man­made fibers in or­der to main­tain the prop­er trop­i­cal at­mos­phere around my skin. This morn­ing I dis­cov­ered a bump on my head that I must have ob­tained last night whilst wrestling af­ter the Superbowl. Call me Klutzmael. Goto bluishor​ange​.com. This la­dy is re­fresh­ment. Empathize with her. I need to work on my en­vy prob­lem. I need a Muse. If i stop wor­ry­ing about my prob­lems they cease to be­come prob­lems right? I learned the ba­sic steps of Salsa to­day and in the process just re­in­forced my knowl­edge that I have rhythm like a fat man’s heart­beat.