The first chapter of "24 mg/dl" in portable document format (PDF) of can be found here.

Thank you for your interest.

Here's a funny story just for you:
I was watching Flight of the Conchords Wednesday evening, which is a hilarious show on HBO. It was so hilarious that I fell asleep. The next morning I woke up at about 7:30 and realized my alarm hadn't gone off, so I got up and started getting ready for school. I relieved my aching bladder and as I was getting in the shower I was trying to remember what I did last night:

hmmm...did I go to Bob and Josh's? no, Josh was getting off late. did I study for the quiz tomorrow? shoot, I didn't. I gotta review those key terms before class. why did I sleep on the living room couch last night? I never sleep on that couch. why didn't I at least go hang out with Bob? he didn't work tonight. I wonder if he called me.
I grabbed my phone.
no, no missed calls or texts, that's weird.

WAIT.

It's 7:40 PM!

I then began to laugh at myself. And got out of the shower.

Despite it being ridiculously hot today, I decided to go out and run when I got home from school at 3:00. That's partly because I was bored, and partly because my coworkers complain that my pasty whiteness blinds them. I ended up running about 2.5 miles at about a 8.5-minute mile pace. Even if you're not impressed with that, I am.

I need to thank a few of you for making this possible. First, Gwen Stefani, Avril Lavigne and John Denver, for singing to me while I ran. But most importantly, Steve Jobs for letting them come with me.

Thank you.

Oh, and Bob was right; cold showers are amazing!

I realized this last week that I am no longer able to run 26.2 miles. Or even 1. So I decided to start running again. I set a goal of running everyday over spring break.

Pain. Lots and lots of pain.

You see, other than an "attempt" at running with Julie about two years ago, I haven't run any significant distance in six years. And last Tuesday I decided that I was able to run about two miles with no stretching or warm up.

Wrong.

I got up at 7 and ran for a little over a mile, then tripped on a raised section of the sidewalk, scraped my knee and hands, and my iPod went sliding about eight feet out into the street. The iPod was fine, and I was able to convince myself that my bleeding knee was enough reason to walk for a while. After a few hundred yards I was finally able to talk myself into running again and I did so until about half-way up the hill near my parents' house. At that point I considered laying down on the sidewalk to die. But something inside me pushed me forward. Maybe it was my desire to finish what I had started. Maybe it was my iron-strong will to persevere. Or maybe it was that it was 45 degrees outside and I wanted to go home and die on a soft, warm couch. Probably the soft, warm couch thing.

So I walked the last quarter mile home and went in wheezing, found the couch and prepared to go to a much happier place. You know, with the big puffy clouds, bright lights, and all my old friends. No, not Seattle; death. I fell asleep for about four hours and woke up to a world where everything hurts.

Both my legs were horrendously sore, and it was tremendously hard to walk without crying. But I did it. For about twenty-seconds. Even my toes were sore. Not like a blistery soreness; like a muscly soreness. I am the epitome of pitifulness.

It got a little better throughout the day, and my dad reassured me that when I ran the next morning, I would feel a lot better, cause it would stretch out my muscles. I'll never forgive him for that lie.

The next day, after running a slightly shorter distance with less hills, it was much worse. Toe-cramps were back, and my thighs and shins were on fire. Seriously on fire! Ok, not on fire. I also spent this last week having to walk up and down a hill repeatedly to place, adjust, view, change my mind, replace, readjust, and review lights for my church's Easter production. I wouldn't say that hill really helped with the soreness as much as it did make it much, much worse. The weeping really didn't help make me look tough either.

I did however decide to keep going and run a third day. Afterwards I had a doctor appointment and I asked her about the wheezing I had experienced the first few days. I found it quite humorous how she avoided the term, "out of shape." She instead used terms like, "exercise-induced asthma," and, "low lung capacity."

Fortunately I did feel much better and less sore after the fourth day of running. I can now run almost a hundred yards without nearly passing out. Baby steps, everyone. Baby steps.

Becky: I have a star tattoo on my back and a heart on my stomach. And I'm getting 3 chinese symbols on my back; for "perseverance," "determination," and "strength."

Josh: You should get a fourth one that says, "cliche."

Now I know what Bono was talking about.

You see, I'm having a quite bloody night. I have given myself two shots and removed my pump site, and I bled each time. A lot. And I hardly ever bleed. I gave myself Humolog and Lantus in different sides of my stomach and I bled quite a bit each time. And my white undershirt has a big splotch of blood from where my pump site was.

Why was I taking Lantus, you might ask (but probably wouldn't). I took a nap at my parents' house in the Tri and when I woke up I got all my stuff together and left. It wasn't until I got to my apartment in Yakima an hour later that I realized I didn't have my pump. I left it on the bed in the guest bedroom.

Oops.

Anyway, luckily my mom is a drug dealer (not really she just works in an endocrinologist's office) and she had just given me an, "emergency bottle" of Lantus this afternoon. I think this constitutes an emergency.

This is something that many of you are used to, and you can also check out Dan's Blog on the subject.

And for those of you who don't know, "Sunday Bloody Sunday," is a song by U2 off of the album, War. And Bono is the lead singer for U2. Try to keep up.

Raise your hand if you've ever seen the movie Hostel.

I'm sorry.

For the rest of you, Hostel is basically an unfunny, unoriginal and gory version of Eurotrip; which is a funny, somewhat original, non-gory version of Hostel.

I think Eli Roth who wrote and directed the movie basically just saw Eurotrip and said, "That would make a great horror movie." Eli was wrong. Dead wrong. OK, just wrong.

In both movies there are two good friends who decide to backpack across Europe, and one of the guys is trying to help the other get over a girlfriend. They go to a few different cites and then to Amsterdam where they have some problems, which leads them to Eastern Europe, specifically Bratislava. From there they have some misadventures and decide to leave.

Both films are aimed at a younger audience, but Hostel is aimed at those who like lots of blood and gore, while Eurotrip is aimed at those who like good movies.

What Hostel is really missing is a really catchy song (like "Scotty Doesn't Know"). With that, a completely different plot, writer and director that movie has a decent amount of potential.

Adam, Steve and I had a three-way video conference yesterday. Here's the transcript from the meeting:

Adam opens video conference window.
Justin joins video conference.
Steve joins video conference.

Steve: Hey Justin.
Justin: Hey Steve. Hey Adam.
Adam: Hey Justin. Steve's sitting next to me.
Justin: Oh cool.

All parties commence funny-face making.

Paul enters Adam's office

Adam: Hey Paul. Justin say hi to Paul
Justin: Hey Paul. I'm in the computer.
Paul: Hi Justin.

All parties return to funny-face making

Steve: Hey lets see if we can make a face with the three screens by showing two eyes and a mouth.

Each holds their computer up to their face.

Steve: Cool. Team lunch?
Adam: Ya lets go. Bye Justin.
Steve: Bye Justin.

Adam disconnects.
Steve disconnects.
Justin is left all by his lonesome.

Music
In the last twelve months I have seen, in concert, Weezer, Dave Mathews Band, James Taylor, Hot Hot Heat, Weezer again, the Foo Fighters, and Ben Folds. As well as a couple of small bands at 321 Artspace in Kennewick: Good Luck Mr. Gorski, Car Scars, Thanksgiving, and others. All of these I like a fair amount of their music, and five of which I would list in my top ten musical acts (two are Weezer).

I went to see Ben Folds last Saturday at the Paramount Theater in Seattle. The opener was some guy named Chris Mills and he was pretty good. He went out there just with his guitar, and hopped around rocking out to his mad licks. I’m retarded.

After he was done and the intermission ended, the lights dimmed and some crazy sci-fi-sounding music started playing and the light guy went to town. Figuratively. He started turning on random colored lights at different intervals, making it seem as though the instruments were changing colors. And to this, Ben and his band entered.

They began with “Bastard” and went through the set list, at first playing only songs produced since Ben went solo, finishing the first part with a cover of a song done by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg titled, “Bitches Aint Shit.” Ben is such a great entertainer that he really pulls that song off well. He can really tap his inner gangsta, and just bring it. Dawg. When they finished that, the drummer and bassist left Ben and his piano to have some alone time with the crowd.

He then began playing some of the tracks from his old band, Ben Folds Five, as well as some of the slower ones from his newer albums, including “Fred Jones,” and “Gracie.” One of the songs was the crowd-involving “Army.” On the album that song has a part that has saxophones and trumpets, which Ben apparently forgot to bring, so he had the crowd sing the two parts.

After he we finished that song, the band came back and they played three more songs and left the stage. For the encore, they came back and played three more, and finished with, “Not the Same,” which again required crowd involvement for the background, “ah-ah-ah-ah” choir part.

It was an amazing concert, and luckily for me, I had fantastic seats. I was sitting behind Ben slightly, and five rows from the stage, so from where I was, I could see every crazy-quick keystroke, every elbow he dropped, and every rocking stomp he delivered to his piano.

Diabetes
The day after the concert, I went down to the Tri to run powerpoint for my church, cause all the high-schoolers were at winter camp. I got a call from Danielle at McDonald’s saying that they needed help covering a sick call. So I decided to do it, and after church I headed back to Yakima. A little before I got there, I started to feel kinda sick to my stomach, but they needed me, so I went in anyway.

It just got worse throughout my shift, and I ended up throwing up. Thrice. I went home and fell asleep and I was still feeling sick the next day, so I skipped school. I didn’t eat much that day even though I started to feel better in the afternoon. Not eating is probably the thing that caused what happened next.

I woke up around 9:15 the next morning to a needle in my right arm, blood all over my bed and right arm, and two EMTs and three firemen holding me down in my bed. I had apparently gone low in the middle of the night, and my roommate, Nate couldn’t get me up to go to class.

He had tried juice, and some “Insta-Glucose,” which is basically cake frosting, but I just refused and kinda fought him off. I was conscious, but not lucid. He called my mom to ask her what to do, cause she has dealt with it a fair amount, but the last time she had to pin me down to feed me something, I was probably five or six. She said if I wasn’t responding, he should call 911.

When the paramedics got there, they tried to get me to drink something, but when I refused they decided to push D-50. This wasn’t an easy task, as it apparently took all three firemen to hold me down to start the IV.

In about a minute, my blood sugar jumped from 35 to 430, and I was given a juice to drink and a peanut-butter sandwich to eat. One of the EMTs remarked to me, “Finish that sandwich, cause if I have to come back here, and that sandwich is just sitting there on your bed, I’m gonna be mad.”

Can you keep a secret? What am I saying?! You’re the internet, of course you can’t! Oh well, I’ll tell ya anyway: I only ate half the sandwich.

Tonight I went to yet another awesome concert at 321 Artspace, this one was Car Scars and the Western States. Pretty awesome show and as it turns out that I knew all of the members of Car Scars and knew they were all in bands, but didn't know they were all in the same band. When I got done with the show, I got a call from my room mate, Sam. Apparently he decided we should have a cleaning party. It's actually more like we need to have a cleaning party. And Sam knew just who the perfect person was to invite to our party: my cousin Becky.

Becky was home from Eastern Washington University for half of this week for Thanksgiving. And this year, I was thankful for that. Becky gets annoyed when things aren't clean and organized, so we invite her over any chance we get. She and my sister cleaned all the cupboards and put down contact paper when we moved in, without us even having to pay them! That's how much Becky believes in this cause.

Let me put into perspective the atrocity that was our apartment. We don't do dishes very often. Okay, ever. Our sink was full of pans and dishes, stacked higher than the water nozzle, covered with dried food left from when we put them in the sink at least two weeks ago, after sitting on the counter or the stove for about a week. Our three by six foot coffee table was entirely covered with mostly empty cans and bottles. We had cashews on the floor next to the couch that had been there for two to three weeks. Our garbage has been full for about five days, and don't even get me started on the bathrooms!

So we got to work. Since the "party" was Sam's idea, we made him wash the dishes, which were covered with a thin, one-and-a-half inch, layer of mold. The smell got worse when he started to clean, because he broke the thick outer crust that kept the stench in. The three of us were gagging and vomiting at the same time! We were totally gavomiting! Becky got started on the cans and bottles to recycle, and I worked on garbage and organization. We worked hard and fast, or at least we would have if we weren't all so sick to our stomachs from the smell.

An hour later, and we had an apartment that was in some areas of the house cleaner than when we moved in. Not only were all the cans and bottles picked up to be recycled, the dishes spotlessly clean and put away, and the garbage picked up, but we also made the following improvements: we got an air freshener with a scent titled "After the Rain," (which didn't actually smell like it does after it rains), a lemony-fresh kitchen from all the dish soap we had to use, plus we had "2000 Flush" tablets in both our toilets (we'll be tracking to make sure we get all 2000). The greatest thing about those is that it makes using the toilet so much more exciting! It's tons of fun to turn the water from blue to green. Or brownish-blue.

So stop on by and check it out; I promise it smells a lot better, even though Haz-Mat hasn't cleared us for visitors yet.

So I was going to Albertson's tonight to stock-up on the essentials (tortilla chips and cheese for nachos) and I decided to go back to get some Go-Gurt as well. As I walked back to the refrigerated section, I passed a table that had some random toys on it.

Being a mature adult, I was not too interested in some simple children's toys. But I did see one very interesting thing out of the corner of my eye. I stopped and just stared for minutes on end. I must apologize to my friend Ruth, because she was working tonight and probably had to clean up the drool.

There it was, buried under a Barbie Doll and a Darth Vader voice changer. The Batmobile! This wasn't just any Batmobile, this was an exact replica (only smaller) of the Batmobile in Batman Begins. It was awesome! It had three (3) buttons for realistic Batmobile sounds and "Secret missiles," or, for the Espanol inclined, "Armatas Secretas."

This was the most amazing Batmobile I have ever seen! And I speak from experience, having owned 3 in the past. And I realized at that moment that I must have it. Alas, I did not have $34.99 plus tax with me at the time, but a wonderful thought came to me; there are only 15 days until my birthday, and someone must love...like...tolerate me enough to spend that much on me for my birthday.

So, you have about two weeks to gather-up $34.99 plus tax and purchase it from your friendly neighborhood Albertson's. Here's a suggestion: have a car wash to get the money. Steal the money. Sell a kidney. What ever it takes for me to have that Batmobile, I am willing to have you do.

So last night after some awesome bowling at Go Bowl with some friends, Sam and I got home and realized that we didn't have much to eat, and we were both hungry. Being that Albertson's is a stone's throw, bounce and then roll away, we decided to stock up for the week.

We initially just went in for cookie dough, which we don't bother cooking (to make up for all those times our mothers told us not to eat the cookie dough). But then I realized we were almost out of pop, so we loaded up on that. Sam started to scan everything in the handy self-checkout, and I went to get a cart for all of our delicious items. As I went for the cart, I realized that regular chocolate-chip cookies would be tasty too, so I got some of those.

We finished checking everything out, paid and left. Here's what we got for $38.73:

2 - 32 ounce tubes of Nestle Tollhouse cookie dough
2 - 18 count packages of Albertson's chocolate-chip cookies
10 - 12 packs of various Albertson's brand pop (all diet)

Yep, that should last us about a week. Oh, and I did the math for you, that's about 8.5 cans per person, per day. I think we can do it.