PARTS OF ME THAT ARE SORE AND MY BEST GUESS WHY
- •My throatHad a three-hour, one-on-one, Friday karaoke session in which I tried to match tit-for-tat, this beautiful chanteuse who Kate Bushes with the best of 'em. There's only so much belting a nice boy can take. Now, I'm sitting here cursing the Wilson sisters for making such compelling ballads that are so woefully out of my range.
- •My neckI don't know how pillows work for most folks, but for me, they have to be corralled into non-Euclidean surfaces before I can even begin to get a good night's sleep.
- •My outer pectoralsMy only summer goal is to be able to hold a front lever for 5 seconds on the high bar. Come at me.
- •My lower backI've been told by myself that there are consequences to my daily posture, Saved by the Bell-ing my legs over my desk, plunging my torso backwards for some real cool hacking and Tweeting. I would guess my L5-S1 disc looks like a piece of gum cast aside on St. Marks Ave.
- •My upper backI gesticulate too much. I'm pretty sure I overdid the "bills I the air, I am a God" pose at the party last night.
- •My feetI needed to find the perfect sweatshirt. I walked all around SoHo to do so. I succeeded with assistance, but the night ended with his-and-hers blisters.
- •My prideI'm 28 and everything hurts.