What's your lie?

We all have at least one, right? Seriously. Everyone loves a little mystery. I know I do. For me, secrets are comforting. I am warmed by the many layers they form over my delicate, invisible heart. Sometimes I tell people that my heart is bulletproof. There's a lie. It's not my heart that's invulnerable... it's all those sacred, secret layers.

I passed out notecards at the meeting. I needed an opening exercise. Something to get people out of themselves, something to help them open up, something to celebrate the diversity of our group while realizing just how similar we all really are, something to help the newbs introduce themselves, something easy and fun and interesting. Tall order, that one. So after googling for ideas - because let's face it, I'm not a social creature at all and haven't the faintest idea on how to get an entire group of total strangers to at least be friendly and nice to each other - I decided on "2 truths and a lie".

For this exercise, each person makes 3 statements about themselves. The object of the game is to try to guess which statement is a lie. It sounds far more interesting than it turned out to be. Ok, allow me to elaborate: if the people participating were a little braver or less inhibited, it might have been exactly as interesting as it sounded. I changed my answers halfway through the circle because everyone's truths and lies were either about their family or body art. My lie turned out to be that I have 7 inappropriate but tastefully concealed tattoos.

Snore. Kill me.

But it got me thinking... If I wasn't so jaded and annoyed by the results of my group exercise, what interesting things could I reveal about myself to this group of random people? My lie should have been any of the following:

I'm completely satisfied with my life. I've never considered suicide. I've never been homeless or lived out of my car. I'd never drink and drive and haven't. I've never been under the influence of either drugs, alcohol, or a combination of both. I didn't drink or smoke until I was of age, because my parents wouldn't buy me the shit until I was of the legal age and by then I wasn't tempted any longer. I've never riden on the hood of a moving vehicle. I've never drowned due to the negligence of a family member. I've never been inside a motor vehicle while it was on fire. I've never been searched by the police for looking like a dangerous thug. I wasn't asked by the school administration not to attend school on the anniversary of the Columbine shootings. I've never used my rage powers to remove an entire wall from the trailer my father shared with his new bitch after she said something trashy and unnecessarily cruel about my mother. It's hard for me to confess the terrible things that I have done or mistakes that I have made. I regret all of the terrible choices I have made. I've never kissed someone I completely hated at the time. I plan on getting married someday. My first novel won't be in any way autobiographical. I don't regret all of the terrible choices I have made. It's easy for me to confess the terrible things that I have done or mistakes that I have made. I've never kissed someone I've completely loved at the time. Revealing truths about myself makes me feel better than just keeping my secrets to myself.

Anyway, it was fun enough for them and it got everyone sharing and participating, so... fine. Whatever. I guess I expected something real and fascinating and revealing and personal. I suppose my expectations for things are a little different than what everyone else expects from them.

On a happy note, no one was interested in the sandwiches provided, so I've got roast beef subs for lunch for the next two weeks. I guess I won't have to go grocery shopping afterall. That is so disappointing. (That's another lie, by the way. I hate grocery shopping.)

Wag me.

It's 5:30am. I work today. I'm not sure when, but it's going to happen and it'll last for 9 glorious hours. How would I rather spend my day? See photo. Oh well. We do what we must to do what we want.

Rent.

No, this isn't a musical. Settle down.

So... as of January, I've been renting my old house out to a former employee. I did this out of desperate necessity. Obviously, not ideal circumstances. Since January, I've received two months of rent. I'm still waiting for April, May, and June - soon to include July.

This would be fine if the damn electric company had terminated my account one of the five times I asked them to do so. Well, they finally did. This month. How lovely. So... I've got another massive electric bill to pay. I'm very excited.

I would subtract that from the rent I'd collected so far, but $0 minus $700+ is still $700+ in the hole.

Yeah. My financial situation is inspiring. But, it gets better. I left my phone in my jeep yesterday evening when I got home from work, so I missed my grandmother's call. It's land tax time again. How exciting. I can't wait for that bill to make it through the mail system and into my hands. Again, I would subtract that from the rent I'd collected so far, but -$700+ minus maybe another $600+ is a very painful $1300+ in the red.

Someone should kill me. I bet it would cost alot less. Bargain assassinations. I'm going to Google it. Oh, how completely unsurprising. Assassinations are much cheaper if you have them done in Mexico. I guess it's time for a roadtrip.

To summarize, renting the house has cost me about $1400 for 6 months.

Wait a minute. What happened to the rent from the two months I did receive? Oh, that went to paying off the previous electric bill which was just as massive. October, November, December, and January are the worst months for electric bills, by far. I still have the previous land tax bill to repay to my grandparents.

A wise man - who also happened to be a complete asshole - once told me that if I ever found myself in a hole, the best way to get out of it was to stop digging. Of course, I'd then push him into it and fill it back in. I mean, who wants a giant hole in their yard and some know-it-all asshole standing there looking smug? Not me. Unfortunately, I'm not the only one digging this hole and I stopped digging nearly a year ago. There may be hope, though.

I talked to the renter a month ago to find out if there was any chance in hell of ever seeing some money from him or if I should just evict him. He assured me he had every intention of paying and that money would be forthcoming and soon. Well, that worked out very well. Anyway, I just had another chat with my tenant. I'll hold by breath until this Friday. That's as much patience as I have left.

I mean, I understand we all have problems and shit happens and things fall apart. However, I got bills to pay on top of the house bills to pay. I just got my Jeep back from the shop and I still think there's something seriously wrong with it - something completely different that's just as seriously wrong with it, to clarify. I could also use an eye exam so that I can see things singularly instead of in multiples of two or three depending on distance. Whatever. I lost where I was going with that. Oh, we all got bullshit expenses and living costs money. So, that said... I can empathize to a degree, but I got no sympathy for anyone that can't step up and take care of business. I think I've demonstrated a fair degree of patience up to this point, so it's out of my hands after Friday. I can't help anyone who won't help themselves and I defintiely won't help anyone who won't help me back.

I totally understand why my grandmother was so eager to wash her hands of the whole messy situation. I got enough stress without the house bullshit to deal with. Seriously. Also, I don't need help accumulating more debt. I have more than enough and I was making great progress with that. But... yeah. I don't need more ways to spend my paycheck. It's stretched as far as it will go already.

I'm hoping it works out and my tenant makes an effort - some effort, any effort at all would be great at this point - to pay his rent and help me with that growing pile of savage bills.

Damn. No wonder my landlord fucking loves me. I pay that shit no less than a week early. I'm like clock work - easy money.

[/freak out and sigh]

Escapism.

Sunday... It's like Monday, but... Yeah.

4 hours to freedom, suckas.

Do panic. (Almost noon.)

I'm still awake... So far. It's been a weird day. Incredibly strange. Time isn't quite synced with reality. It's just slightly off like terrible low budget dubbing.

To keep everyone - including myself - on their toes and alert, I keep quizzing people on disaster response protocols. I'm glad there isn't really a tornado. No one wants to assume crash position huddles in the restrooms. We may be doomed, but we'll maintain our dignity in the face of natural disasters.

It's a little alarming the responses I got on how to respond to a fatality. 

''Am I a suspect?''
''I don't know. For the sake of the exercise... It was an accident.''
''Oh. Then I guess we should dial 911.''

But only after we determine none of us are murderers. Of course.

I'd be a lot more worried if I wasn't slightly delirious.

Fun with stick figures.

"Lost my head." This is the image I cropped my profile photo from. I made it several years ago and used it as a horizontal rule to separate my posts. Yeah, I'm weird. Enjoy!

Fun with science.

There are 10,000 things I could be doing right now.

...but I've decided to bitch about work. Yeah, I'm that guy right now. Not that there aren't other things to bitch about. For instance: Fortunately for the people upstairs, I'm not tired. Otherwise, I'd march up there and start throwing people and shit out the windows. Seriously.

I should force myself to sleep, but that's impossible now. I overslept this morning/afternoon and now I won't be able to sleep again until this afternoon. Blah. Today is going to suck. Hopefully I'll just go completely delirious and float through the day on auto-pilot. Yeah right. The best I can hope for is keeping myself upright and moving for the better part of nine hours and not passing out while trying to do paperwork in my office.

I wish I could say I've only done that a couple times. I wish I could say that.

Fuck, I hate working morning shift. It screws up my whole sleep cycle not to mention life. Also, people are so frantic in the mornings. Chill the hell out, people. Seriously. Step off the caffeine. This isn't South America. You can pause between sentences. Breathe even, if you want. If you feel like you're hyperventilating, maybe you should take a few deep breathes or sit down. That's what you get for ignoring proper punctuation, though. You have no context clues as to when it is appropriate to pause and catch your breath. Punctuation isn't optional, it's essential - as is comprehension for effective communication. If you want to communicate more efficiently, don't just accelerate your speech. That's not going to increase the amount of information you communicate if no one can understand all those mashed up syllables spewing from your mouth. Maybe you should try speaking in sentence fragments. Spice it up. I don't need all that bullshit. Just give me the bullet points and get out of my face. Exhausting.

Nope. I am not a morning person. I don't care to see anything living prior to noon. It's just too early to be interacting with anything or anyone, otherwise. I'm seriously not looking forward to 7am and I still have four hours to kill before I even start getting ready for the shitty day I'm going to have.

Why I really left Ohio.

If you're not completely certain you want to know this, you better stop reading right fucking now. I'm giving you the opportunity I never had. I'm giving you the option to gracefully walk away unscathed from the total shitstorm that I'm about to lay to type. You really don't have to read this. I, unfortunately, do have to write about it. It's time. It was a year ago now and 277 miles away. I think that's a safe distance on both accounts.

Previous to this incident, I had stated my intentions to my boss that I was very, very interested in exploring my options - especially in the case of the newly proposed and exciting West Virgina expansion. Since she had completely denied me the opportunity five months previous to that when there was a similar opportunity in North Carolina, I decided I would contact the recruiter and add my name to the list of those considered before speaking to her about my interest in doing so. Tacky, I know. But, what else was there to do? I was bored. It felt like I was slowly dying only... more monotonous, more futile. I had forgotten all about doing it, to be honest, when I received a phone call from the woman running the show in the new region of West Virginia. I was completely unprepared. In fact, I was working my other job when she called. I dropped everything and I gave the phone interview of my life. I gave that interview like my very life depended on it. For me, it was an opportunity to do something bold and new and amazing with a life that had become simply a matter of juggling two jobs and attempting to find the time to sleep inbetween. I was tired in so many, many ways.

Anyway, not the point of the story but relevant to establishing the timeline in the sequence of events and my state of mind/being/whatever.

That afternoon, when I clocked in at my primary job, I smiled at my boss. I imagined a time when I wouldn't be able to anymore. I imagined what my new life might be like. It was all hypothetical and magic.

"We need to talk." And I explained the situation.
"Wha... What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing. What?"
"That's not the way you do things."
"Well, that's how I did them and that's how they are."
"Are you so unhappy here?"
"Not unhappy, just... There's zero chance of me advancing my career here. Unless you die, of course. Same thing at the other place. No one just quits their job at this level. I have to wait for someone to retire or die. I'm ready now. I don't want to waste the next ten years growing bitter and lazy."
"Wow. I still don't like the way you went about this."
"I didn't think they were going to call. I sort of gave up and forgot about it. It's been quite awhile. I wanted to at least try, though. You never know unless you try. Anyway, I forgot all about it until today."

So, I made the trip to West Virginia. I got paid to do so. I got paid very well to do so and just to take a look and hear what they had to say. If anything, it was worth the paid vacation and mileage. The first thing I noticed was the speed limit sign after I crossed the Ohio River and crossed the state line.

70 mph

I was in love.

We, the potential transfer candidates, all met for dinner in the training center - a small facility next to Borders in the largest mall I'd ever seen - with the future managers of the area and the district manager. We asked questions and they answered. They asked questions and we all answered in turn. They took notes. I wondered if I should be doing the same. This guy kept staring at me and it made me nervous. I tried to imagine what he was thinking. It didn't matter. I was here so there was a chance. That was enough to obsess about. I kept thinking that this was just the casual introductory dinner. The interviews would be the following morning and that's when I was going to win them over. Only, it turned out, that was the interview. It was an impromptu completely casual group interview. How obscene. The next day we were told to get out and explore the area. We were told the sites of the new locations and set loose. It was absurd. I made the best of it. I logged nearly 100 miles that day. I saw a lot of promise and opportunity and hope. I could live here if they let me. I really could. I think it was March. I went to Camden Park which was, of course, closed. I was sad. I might never be back and I'd never get to see it alive and working. I went to the Blenko glass factory. It was even less thrilling than the closed amusement park. I saw mountains of coal but felt no desire to tour the facilities or mines. Seeing the coal was enough for me. Then there were the bridges. There were so many of them everywhere. It felt like the entire state was lacerated by tiny snaking rivers. I crossed more than I could count. That's exaggeration. I crossed more than I could care to count. I came back to Ohio so eager and hopeful. That feeling slowly faded as the months passed silently. I did not receive a call, letter, or email. There was no response at all. Which seemed appropriate, actually, since there had been no official interview. The people I had told about my adventures and prospects did not look me in the eyes by the time May came to an end and June began. They pitied the poor foolish boy who still believed in this ridiculous fantasy of a better life that someone was just going to hand him. I tried not to resent them for it. I also wished I had simply kept those dreams of mine to myself instead of sharing them so freely with whoever would listen to my manic ranting. Life went on much the way it had, but with a new undertone of rejection and defeat.

It was an anonymous Saturday night when I noticed that my Jeep was pulling to the right side a little as I drove home from work at 2am. I assumed it was the air pressure. I checked it in the dark when I got home. The tires were all firm. I would test them tomorrow when I went back to work, just to be sure. Then I thought maybe the roads were a little slick or perhaps the wind was a little stronger than usual. Then I didn't think much at all because I was tired from working both jobs that day and not sleeping very much. Sunday was my recovery day. I only had one job to work and not until the afternoon. I could sleep until then and I did.

I was immediately reminded of the problem Sunday afternoon as I drove to work. This time, however, it wasn't a slight pull to the right. Things had escalated severely. I am, however, a very stubborn bastard and I was determined to make it to work. I would deal with this problem after I made it there on time. I never did make it to work that day. I had just come down the off ramp from the highway and made a left hand turn at the stop light onto the road leading to my work site. There was another light immediately after to allow the other side of the highway to turn into the other lane. It was after the first turn and before the second stop light that I heard the noise that made my heart stop and my Jeep as well.

"Oh shit, I just hit something."

I scanned the areas around me with all my mirrors and could not identify what I had hit or why I had come to a complete and sudden stop. I began to move forward. It wasn't easy. Something was flapping around somewhere. I assumed I had a flat tire. Then I heard that noise again and both my Jeep and heart stopped once more. After that, I was done. I could not move any further. Fortunately, I had made it to the second stop light. Unfortunately, it had turned green. I turned on my hazards and waved people around. I still had ten minutes to get to work and I could actually see it from where I was. I called work.

"Hi. Are you near a window?"
"Um. Yes, I am."
"Do you see that mess of traffic at the light by the overpass?"
"Yeah. I do."
"That's me. I think I have a flat. I might be late."
"Ok. Call back if you need help. Rob's not here, though."
"That's ok. I think I can handle it. See you soon."

I crawled across the seats and exited the passenger side of the vehicle. I immediately spotted the offending wheel and I immediately hit redial.

"I'm going to need a tow. Can you find a number for me and call them?"
"What's wrong?"
"Just call a tow for me, please."



This is what I was looking at as I made this call and said these words. What I was thinking was that I shouldn't freak the hell out and completely lose my shit even though I really, really wanted to. I remained calm which allowed me to remain objective and to investigate the situation since I would be waiting for that tow for over an hour. What I discovered was only one lug nut. The thread inside the lug nut which allowed it to securely screw into place seemed intact except for the very end towards the bottom which seemed like it had caught on fire and melted. I examined the rods which it and its fellow lug nuts had once been screwed onto keeping my tire in place. The threads on these were also intact. They weren't worn down or eroded or stripped. There was no logical, natural explanation for this event. Tires don't just fall off of moving vehicles and then get pinned underneath them. They don't.



I remember the first thing the tow truck driver said to me and the waves of horror and closure it sent through my body:

"Wow. Who'd you piss off?"
"I'm not sure, actually."
"You make any enemies lately?"
"Possibly several. I don't know."
"You... aren't in management, are ya?"
"Yes... I... (clearing throat) Yes. I am."
"Well, that explains it, then."



As we rode through town to the only garage that was open on a Sunday, he told me a little anecdote from his personal history. I think it was meant to make me feel better. Anyway...

He had been in management once. I think it was a restaurant in Dayton or Toledo or somewhere. Well, he had asked his dishwasher - who had no dishes to wash at that particular moment - to empty the trash and take it out to the dumpster - which was actually part of his job, no one else shared this responsibility, it was solely his specific job duty. Well, based on the surveillance video which would then become evidence, the dishwasher - after taking out the trash - smashed every part of this manager's vehicle that he could with a crow bar: headlights, tail lights, windshield, mirrors, all of it. He also sliced his tires and took a shit on the hood.

I sat, paralyzed, as I listened to him retell that story. I couldn't begin to make a list of people crazy enough to do something like that just because I told them to do their job which was actually my job. Oh fuck. Then there were the people I had legitimately pissed off: employees I had wrote up, sent home early, caught stealing, had arrested, terminated... Oh Fuck! Then there were the other people I had caught stealing and had arrested, banned for life for being drunk or crazy or both, found vandalizing the building and run off, or just stood up to when they were harassing and threatening my employees so they then turned their attention to me. My response was always "I'll be right here waiting for you. Bring it." OH FUCK! Oh, not to mention the previous tenants of my new home which I, accompanied by my mother and brother, had evicted on Christmas Day after they hadn't paid rent to my grandmother in nearly a year. Or, it could be someone completely random like a hooligan or street punk or something. Sonuvabitch. The list of suspects was impossibly long. I sat there silently as he drove along.

I sat in the waiting room and tried not to think about the whole situation as they worked on my Jeep. A thought occurred to me suddenly and I wish it hadn't. What if the wheel had come off sooner? What if it had come off Saturday night like it was obviously meant to? I could be... I willed myself to think about the sign reminding me to have my oil changed every 3000 miles. I focused on each letter of the print. I drew them in my mind. I would not think about anything else.

Rob bought me a Dr. Pepper because it's my favorite and I looked insane as I sat there concentrating on that damn poster for twenty minutes and mouthed the words like a lunatic chant to ward off the evil thoughts in my brain and their obvious, undeniable logic. I liked the kid. He had kept me sane on so many crazy nights. It seemed like we had always worked together, but that wasn't true. Still, I liked the kid. He had just completed his technical school and was now living his dream working at the only garage open on a Sunday and still working a full schedule with me at the place I never made it to on this particular Sunday.

"So. What happened? Your tire is seriously fucked."
"Yeah. I did a real number on it. That's what I get for thinking I could change a tire. I guess I forgot to tighten the lug nuts."
"Did you also forget to put them back on?"
"I might have. It was dark and I was coming home from work. You know how that goes. Anyway, I didn't have a flashlight and I was already a little frustrated when I got the flat. Careless. Stupid. But, it's all my own damn fault."
"Are you sure that's what happened?"
"Of course. What else would it be?"
"I don't know. The tow guy said something strange. It's nothing. Glad you're ok."
"Thanks."

I'd be better if every beautiful, believable, reassuring word I just said to him wasn't a total fucking lie. But, what am I going to do? Who the hell am I going to tell something like this? No one. Not one damn person. Well, maybe one person. But before that moment, I had to make it through this one. When they had finished the repairs and I had paid, I was waiting for one of the mechanics to load my dead tire into the back of my Jeep so that I could leave when he stopped suddenly and just whistled. He called someone else over. He said something stupid like "holy frijoles" or something. Someone else came over to see what all the fuss was about. I joined them.



When the tire had finally worked against the one remaining lug nut long enough to come free of the axle entirely, the axle slammed down on the rim of the tire. That's the first noise I heard. I kept trying to drive my Jeep and was mildly successful until the axle ground its way through the rim like it was nothing but cheap plastic and came crashing through to finally come to rest on the pavement. That was the second and final noise I heard. Then all the mechanics were gone. They went to find anyone else they could and they also went to get their cellphones so they could take pictures. None of them had ever seen anything like it before. Neither had I. Once they had marveled at it long enough, I drove home. I used a personal day because I had earned it.

The next day at work, my boss was talking to someone in the office. I don't remember who. I only remember what I said to them.

"I need you to leave this office now."

Once they did, I closed and locked the door.

"That was rude."
"I'm sure I don't care. We need to talk about yesterday."
"This couldn't have waited? We were in the middle of something."
"Someone is trying to kill me. No, it can't wait."
"What are you talking about?"
"Saturday night while I was working, someone removed all but one of my lug nuts on my rear passenger side tire. It took until Sunday afternoon for my tire to work against that lug nut and come off my vehicle as I was driving it back here."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I felt it driving home that night and then I really felt it driving back Sunday. I knew something was wrong but I couldn't figure out why it was driving so strangely. I thought if I could just make it to work... You know, I could call Rob and he could look at it and... whatever. It doesn't even matter what I thought. I'm in serious danger here."
"Well, you should just park on camera."
"No shit. Really? Should I do that? You think?"
"What do you want me to do? Do you want to call the police?"
"No. That's not going to do anything. They'll just file a report that means nothing and... No. Pointless."
"Well, what else can we do?"
"Apparently nothing but wait to see if they actually succeed at hurting or killing me next time. I can't be here if it's unsafe for me. Do you get that? I'm not going to work somewhere if there's a chance I might die from doing so. I'm not going to die for this job."
"You're not going to die."
"How do you know that? You don't know what's going to happen to me. This isn't in my head. This is happening. It could have already happened. I am lucky to be here right now. I'm lucky I'm not permanently disabled or worse right now. I could have died."
"Ok. I know. But you're fine."
"I'm leaving. I'm going to call today to see about that transfer and if I don't get it... I'm leaving either way. I'm not staying here. I'm just not."
"I understand, but you should just give it a little time before-"
"No. I've decided. I'm leaving. I'll work here until I find something else, but I'm gone. First job I'm offered, I'll take it. Just wanted you to know."

After work that day, I called the woman in charge of the new region in West Virginia. It went straight to voicemail. As I was leaving a very casual message about hoping to hear something soon, someone was leaving a voicemail for me. I listened to it. It was the call I had been waiting for. We had called each other at the exact same moment. I hit redial and it went back to voicemail so I hung up and answered my call waiting. When she made the offer, I accepted.

True to my word, I took the first job I was offered and I left Ohio.

Completely natural and therefore foreign.

I was outside today. On purpose, too. And not just for the time it took me to walk from building to car to building to car to building again. No. I was outside today for nearly an hour. I saw a tiny pond and trees and people and dogs and pathways and benches. So very weird in that completely-natural-and-therefore-foreign sort of way.

So... who showed up for this miraculous and strange event other than the most obvious - me? My district manager.

And?

No And? is required. Just her. Only.

I would be disappointed, but... I fucking showed up. I was there. I did it. I said I would and I did, regardless of whether I had better things to do or less interesting but maybe more enjoyable things to do - like debate whether you can properly pluralize water or if it's simply measureable as part of a large collective and is therefore defined by the container or area it fills (two glasses of ice water rather than two ice waters) or nap. Whatever. I was there and that's what matters. Lead by example. It builds character. Blah blah cliche blah blah.

It was actually better that way. I had a lovely conversation with my district manager as we walked the many trails throughout the park and sweat and drank from bottles (water bottles, or in my case gatorade, but there it is again, bottles instead of waters - perhaps it's simply my preference, but pluralizing water seems ridiculous.) for nearly an hour. It wasn't boring or strange. It was relaxing, actually.

I came home, showered, and then eagerly tried to log in to the site to post my active time and... denied. The site is down. I was reassured by the text on the screen that tech support had been notified. How nice. I guess I'll check back tomorrow or later. I don't even care. I'm very zen and dungivashit right now.

Peace.

Pedometer? Don't trust ped-anything.

Posting from the Palm of my hand.

Redic. Anyway...

I keep stepping up and completely dominating these events at work because, honestly, no one else wants to or will even pretend to care. That's fine. They'd ruin everything anyway. Suck the fun right out of living - if they could, most of them would. So, what's the agenda this time? Embrace a more active lifestyle (because corporate is beginning to tire of all the fat asses on the payroll? Of course not.) because that will entitle us to longer, happier, and healthier lives. I can sugar coat anything, by the way. Seriously though, someone should have said something or staged an intervention years ago. Not the point, but this is:

I will be at a public park trying to encourage and motivate anyone who might show up into staying active for an entire hour this and every Thursday until I'm the only one who keeps showing up or the competition ends.

Wait. What? Another competition. Yes, reader. Another competition. We are a highly competitive corporation, both internally and externally. And once again I will be leading my team boldly into the great unknown of our new corporately mandated active lifestyles and group psychosis.

Yep. I'm looking very forward to regretting this whole ordeal. Although, it may assist me at meeting my goal of losing another 30 pounds which will have me happily under maximum safe skydiving weight. That'll be worth the circus I'm anticipating trying to ringlead this Thursday.