The Genetic Lottery: God’s Sense Of Humour In Action

It turns out that my cousin–newly married, as of yesterday–runs triathalons.

I get exhausted watching edited triathalon coverage on television.

Now that I think about it, we’re all united by diarrhea. The triathaletes have that “losing control of all bodily functions” thing that sometimes happens and the portly bookworms now have alli.

I guess it all really DOES come out equal in the end. Or something like that.