They’re not a magical or religious sect.

They’re just a couple of dinguses who got Rhino lining on their hands, which are now permanently stained black.

I’m not only a member, but I’m also their president.

I wanna wish a very Happy Birthday to Crazee Bee. Be sure to wish her one as well.

Yesterday was a long day. I started out by not taking Nicky the Cook’s advice about Rhino lining the outside of a Jeep. I didn’t really have a say in the matter anyway. But we did it. And it took the Jeep from busted to badass in about an hour. We also got in most of the new parts (bumpers, doors, wench, etc.) that we’ll be putting on today. Time permitting, we’ll start Rhinoing the inside today.

After Jeep work was done, I headed home for a snack and sit down before hustling over to workout. It was Capt. America Monday. Brutal. We finished today with more sprints. Double brutal. I’m hoping that my doctor’s appointments next week suss out what the hell is wrong with my breathing. That’ll make this whole running-as-if-my-life-depended-on-it thing a bit more bearable. My legs were fine. It was that whole not breathing thing that nearly killed me.

After my workout, I came home to eat something substantial since I had become ravenous once again. All this muscle using is making me an eating machine. Again.

At some point, my  buddy the Man w/ the Plan came by to buy some of the new stickers. Hooray! Alas, he’d never been to Holliday Island. So. . .

Man w/ the Plan.

I had to trap him.

After he split, it was time for Pathfinder. I used some spells. They didn’t all fail. One worked.

And then it was back to eating peanut butter right out of the jar. Stop judging. It’s my peanut butter and I can eat it however I see fit. I’m a grown up. Who works out.

In other news, shuddup.

I’m off to the same day as yesterday but with more dead parents.

See ya’ tomorrow.

More soon. ~SC