it will all work out, I'm sure

From the pot-smoking Brazilian DJ to this. While I might have grown tired of P. and his dirty bedroom talk (although the story about his father taking him to a prostitute at age 13 was a good one), I'm not certain if I'm currently doing any better with the unemployed CDF man leaving a nearly five year relationship.

He's a good kid and all, don't get me wrong, even more interesting musical taste than P. (because, really, mid-90s hip hop can only go on so long before you get tired of it), but he's now got another CDF guy crashing on our couch. Fine by me, lessens the rent, and I get to say in one concrete fashion that I am indeed tougher than a firefighter, because whereas I slept on the iron futon for months with minimal complaint this guy pulled out an inflatable roll-out to put on it after one night. Wuss.

But that's not the point of this post. The point is this: last night the two CDF men came home at the same time and compared their daily workouts, talking about their backs and their quads and their delts and the number of reps and the weight amounts involved and other things which mean little to me. So instead of discussions about sex, porn, and prostitution, I get chatter about heavy lifting and various muscle groups.

It's a brave new world I'm living in.