I feel like death on a stick. I'm having the worst headcold of my life, and I'm running dangerously low on juice. And it's raining.

But, life hasn't been all bad recently. I had my belt test last week, and did another 15 pushups. I earned another stripe in Taekwondo and my yellow belt in Hapkido. That means I can definately hurt myself while trying to kick your ass. The weirdest part was when I had to spar with this girl for Hapkido. She wrestled me to the ground and wrapped my braids around her fist! I mean, if I'd known I was going to be mud-wrestling, I would've worn heavy eyeliner and a bikini. As I understand it, most martial artists frown on hair-pulling. She kept punching me in the face, which wasn't allowed because we didn't have gloves, and I said (between bites of knuckle-sandwich) "Hey, no punches to the face!" To which she responded (mid-blow) "I'm not punching you in the face!" So then I was confused as to why her knuckles kept hitting my face. Luckily for me, she hits like a girl.

A while back (but since my last post) I was turned on to a game called Bookworm Adventures. It is the epitome of word-nerdery. It's an RPG where you do damage based on the length of the words you can spell. It's kind of like solo Scrabble, but more fun. You get this Hall of Fame feature where it keeps track of your top 10 words. I'm particularly proud of "castigated".

I haven't been blogging much lately because I've been busy playing the heck out of Medieval II: Total War. Soon, the Venitian mafiosos will rule the planet. I mean, sure, I have armies, but the real work is done by my good friends Tony and Guido. Grease a few palms here, break a few kneecaps there, and my enemies are begging for mercy before we even set foot on the battlefield! And with the pope, a fellow Venitian, in Doge Bartolomeo's back pocket, our business just happens to also be God's business.

Actually, I was going to post more, but all this talk of world domination has given me the urge to go show the Holy Roman Empire who's really in charge.