There's a contract for a home with my name and signature all over it, you guys! Shit just got really real.
I may need a Xanax. Or a straight jacket. Perhaps a noose?
|You really can't deny the truth in this.|
On a side note, when I told the dude at the running store yesterday that I am running the Tar Heel 10-miler next weekend, he wanted to know what my goal time is and asked if I'm going for 8- or 9-minute miles. Apparently I only look speedy. Also, he was pretty adorable.
A house contract and some eye candy. All-in-all not too shabby for a Thursday afternoon.