While I hate to emulate Bridget Jones here, I would like to pat myself on the back really fucking hard for going without one goddamn cigarette from around midnight on the 20th to now. I mean, people, for years I've been nothing if not a reliable smoker. I've smoked around twelve a day since my Incredibly Awful sophomore year in college, and while every minute I go without a smoke makes me want to chew my own lips, fingernails, fingers, and perhaps knees off, the pangs don't seem to be nearly as bad as they were the last seven times I tried to stop.

That's because this time? I have Grit the Internal Gym Teacher. Yes, his name is really Grit. Yes, he wears sweatpants and smells bad. Yes, he is sometimes abusive and has been known to slap people upside the head who couldn't do their pullups fast enough. And yes, Grit is entirely in my head.

But Grit? Grit the Internal Gym Teacher Gets the Job Done.

Also, just so everybody on the planet knows, Chris and I obtained the BEST APARTMENT ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH. It's between a park and a graveyard. It has a dishwasher, a washer/dryer, and a JACUZZI TUB. Yes, that apartment. Yes, you can use the tub whenever you want. Just try not to splash the blacklight, and gentlemen, keep your dangly bits out of the jet tubes, we don't want any lawsuits, hmm?