i've lost all recollection of the meaning of dates and days. as of the perhentian islands, i've begun down a shame spiral of beach locales that'll end only when i'm done seeing the philippines 7000+ islands. and whatever weight (ill-gotten or otherwise) i've lost from sickness will reappear 4-fold from laying lazily in hammocks for the next 6 months or until death, whichever comes first. go to a filipino beach and if someone's active and playfully frolicking in the water, that isn't me. find a green hammock under the inconceivable strain of a stereotypically obese american and you've found your fat-bastard (or more politically correctly phrased, fat man of dubious lineage).

i'd declared the summer of 2003, "the summer of shirtlessness." it was an extremely hard task to achieve but i now go out on a limb and declare the second half of 2005, "the half-year of shirtlessness and sloth." i'll nipple everyone into achieving world peace even if it means a higher risk of melanoma and a greater incidence of women turning lesbian. upon my death, i simply wanna be known as the most shirtless guy in history. indigenous "backward" tribes may have a head start but those little gnomes only live on average until they're 23. when future generations remember my name, i want them to wistfully utter, "wow, that guy sure was shirtless!" wiping a tear-drop from their watery eyes.

a bit more unachievable perhaps but i'll include the footnote of 2005 being the year that i touch a girl as i'm unintentionally working on a record for most consecutive years without the natural engorgement induced by a live 3rd party. lamentably, both my 40gb laptop or daily self-flagellation doesn't count.

what date is it anyway?