(I censor because I love you, delicately eyeballed sister, and for no other reason.)
Basically, I've been absent from the blogging world because I've been too busy stress-eating, and stress-dancing, and stress-painting.
If you think this is bad, you should see the dancing.
However, as I spent most of this morning engaged in an involuntary feelings-purging nap, I think things are under control again. Also, if you've never taken an feelings-purging nap, you should get on that. Or don't get on that. Sleep is a bitter form of refuge. Your call. Moving on.
Anyway, as I don't yet feel capable of saying anything new or interesting, I'll give you some video clips I took on my phone on the drive into work yesterday. It's really impossible to tell what's going on without being told beforehand, so I shall enlighten you: There is a stretch of beach I'd say is maybe the length of a football field called "University beach" where all the Senegalese dudes work out, apparently. Basically they all run back and forth on this same stretch of beach. Sometimes it gets to the point where there are literally hundreds of them, running back and forth over the span of about 100 yards. Which wouldn't be so weird, were it not for the fact that they literally have MILES AND MILES of beach available to them, and they pick this stretch. Oh, Senegalese. You so silly.
They also have a weight lifting area where they pick up tires and stuff. It's like the Dakar version of Muscle Beach. They've recently acquired a nautilis-type weight machine, rumored to having been dumped there by the special forces in the middle of the night, which they haven't quite figured out how to use yet. It's great.
Also if you listen closely you can hear my dad explaining the finer points of Apocalypse Now, so...Bonus!
TIA, body builders, TIA.