Stretch marks

I was so damn sore that Dave offered to give me a massage last night, in a heterosexual way. Not gay shit. It helped.

I'm still working on that classical piece at guitar practice. It's a piece originally for the cello, but translated for the guitar. Even though the sound is so ancient for anyone's taste, the fingering technique is so intricate-looking that I can imagine playing it and any chick would take her clothes off.

Figured since I'd have Capoeira practice tomorrow, I'd bust a #3 to Jazz and come tomorrow (hey, that could be a pun) I'd have replenished testosterone.

I went to the gym at night. I noticed something about Iam for the 1st time.

RYAN: Did you have surgery on your pecs?
IAM: No. Those are stretch marks. At 1 point, my muscles grew too fast during training.

Some armenian dude in the locker room (a nice guy and not too hairy like they typically are) had stretch marks across his back as if a tiger ripped him horizontally.

Oh yeah, Iam has a bad sunburn. I've seen sunburn before. But this actually looks abnormal. He looked like he painted himself "brick red."