I am my father's son.

Because I am also seemingly incapable of learning my lesson. I strained my back during a tennis competition and I refused to stop playing, I was actually winning! (They may have beginners but don't try and diminish my victory). So, after a lovely morning of smiting my enemies, I returned home to freshen up and prepare for a hard day of oogling my incredibly hot spanish teacher only to find that my spine no longer functioned properly in any position other than 'completely vertical'. The victory shower ended up being strictly subpar, not to mention the drying phase -stand strait up and swing your arms in a circle, that's pretty much all that happened in there. How I long for the day when midget labor is no longer strictly the realm of the uber-trashrich.

Fast forward 24 hours. Feeling much much better, decide to go ahead and do some more activity related stuff since I'm on the fast track to recovery.

Fast forward another 24 hours. Back to step one: Wishing for midgets. Given that I normally relish any excuse to remain completely sedentary I can't imagine what possessed me do otherwise.. Let's see what the next 24 hours brings me, besides more shame.