A friend of mine is hoping for a shot at an internship with a travel country. She asked me to stir up some interest. Apparently she hopes for good ratings on her video resume. I think she's overqualified already, also overly accomplished. But I do what I can to help.

I'm linking to the video because, well, it just doesn't jive with my content. You know, my ramblings about nothing.
 But check it out.

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Apparently a big deal tonight. Playoff game between Manchester United and Int. Milan. I can't be bothered to remember the start of the name. Round of 16.

Ended 0-0.

How is that a playoff game? Aren't playoffs supposed to have winners? How did that help anything? I understand it's a two-game series, but this can't be the best way to decide it.

And, to think, I almost went to watch that game. Glad I missed it.

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For the first time, I wanted to give up today.

It's sad, but true. It started on Saturday, when we went up to the mountains south of town. Did not ski. I was disappointed. No one else wanted to, and I didn't want to be the entitled, rich American. Anyway, it was still fun. But on the way back, we stopped at a roadside restaurant. Probably not the best idea.

Woke up at 4 a.m. the next morning with intestinal issues. I didn't move more than 50 feet from a toilet the rest of the day. I was supposed to run five miles, but, since I had barely slept and barely ate anything, I passed on that--first day I had missed the schedule.

Feeling a little better on Monday, I picked it back up. I didn't want to run too far, so I spent an hour on an eliptical instead. I figured it made up for it, because, at any pace faster than walking, I can make five miles in an hour. I didn't hit as high of a heart rate, but I was three times as bored, so I thought it was all the same.

My 3.5-mile run this morning let me know differently. My calfs burned every step of the way, and, when I was done, I could barely walk.

It's why I felt like quitting. 3.5 miles is still 9.6 less than the half-marathon.

Fortunately, I'm not, yet. I waste at least a half an hour a day. I can spend it running instead.

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So pens around here aren't that easy to come by. Well, they are, there's a paper guy five minutes from my house. But I don't have a ton of them. I bought a bunch of pens on discount from the Wal-mart-ish store here.

These pens stink. They are the worst pens in the world. They look like crystal-clear Bic pens. They aren't.

The first two I tried didn't work. The next one did, and I stocked up a few of them in my bag.

A few weeks later, down to my last pen, I shoved another one in the pocket of my jacket. My 2007-era Reebok Kansas City Chiefs dual-jacket, with a fleece interior. (I love this coat. 80 percent off. Works for a heavy and light coat. It's great.)

An hour later, the pen was out of ink. It had broken in my pocket.

Yeah. All the ink had pooled up at the bottom of my coat, leaving a huge spot on the coat.

10 minutes later, that spot had transferred to my khaki pants.

Two washing-machine cycles later, both spots had stayed in exactly the same place.

So a 15-cent pen took out those items. Lesson learned. I'm going for true-Bic crystal clear next time.

*Also, apparently with my new haircut (thanks for noticing, Bekah), I can pull off the gangsta look better. I was walking down the street in said jacket, wearing sunglasses to block sun only. It was a long walk, so I turned on my ipod (Zune).

Then a bunch of kids walking by started yelling at me, waving their hands in some kind of dance move (I guess). They asked me to call out a yo-yo for them.

I think the states, I'd still pass off as a dweeb. Here, maybe they don't understand the dweeb look and go with hip-hop.

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Skype got back to me, they were just alarmed at a credit card being used here. They unblocked everything. I'm appreciative, and I while I understand the concern, I wish it didn't take eight days to fix.

Still, a good service.

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