i didn't write this

The Pitch runs a column called Net Prophet. I've been published in it before. But I did not write this. And I'm confused how it even got connected to me. I wish I could claim it. It's well-written. Very Chuck Palahniuk. But they are not my words, people. Period.

i've been tagged

i've never been tagged before. thanks, sarah!

here goes nothing.

Five items in my freezer
1. coffee
2. ice
3. a loaf of bread
4. edamame
5. pork tenderloin

Five items in the closet
1. bridesmaid dress that needs to be altered
2. shoes, shoes and more shoes
3. my writing clips (bring on the piles of newspaper)
4. a bag full of greeting cards i've been given
5. purses

Five items in the car
1. my i-pod plug-in adapter
2. a really cute black umbrella with brightly colored polka dots on it
3. a huge, golf umbrella big enough for an entire family to fit beneath (i need to be prepared)
4. a bunch of fliers on local road races that i won't be able to run (sigh)
5. some dog hair.

Five items in my backpack. (um, does laptop bag count?)
1. my laptop
2. the latest issue of Runner's World.
3. my makeup bag
4. some pens
5. my franklin covey calendar.

Five people I tag.
1. Jess
2. Happy
3. Pom
4. faith
5. Linz

on Malcom X, kissing and being 12.

The first time I watched Malcom X, I was in seventh grade and I made out with my boyfriend through its entire four hours. The second time I saw it, I was a bit more alert and able to make intelligent decisions. I thought about it for weeks afterward.

The first time I watched Chaplin, I was in seventh grade and I made out with the same boyfriend during its entire four hour playing time. I never saw Chaplin a second time.

We used to choose the longest movies because our parents would drop us off when the movie started, and pick us up as soon as it was over. We figured four-hour flicks gave us the most “together” time. This really meant alone time. Time for making out. Only, I had a strict fear of tongues. And I made it clear, from day one, that I would not French kiss him. In fact, one day after school was out but before volley ball practice, we had planned to meet in the stairwell and have our first kiss. Actually, our friends set it up, we were just supposed to show up and lock lips. I waited in that stairwell for what seemed like hours. I was nervous and sweaty and thankful that I had just gotten contacts so I didn’t have to worry about my glasses bumping his. He showed up right on schedule and he didn’t even say hello. We didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at each other. And if he was feeling at all similar to what I was feeling, he wanted to run away and hide. I was sure I would puke any second. But I had to tell him. I didn’t want to be a tease. And so, I said, and I quote, “Just so you know, I am not going to French kiss you.” And that was that. He stood on his toes (because I think I was taller than him) and gave me the shortest peck I have ever received.

So those four-hour makeout sessions were really just a mess of lips and lips. No tongue. No spit. It was pretty hard to keep a continuous flow of kissing going because of my strict rule. But somehow, we managed. We must have looked like idiots.

oh, kansas city, you're so stupid.

It took me 50 minutes to get to work today. It usually takes 12. Why the long commute, you ask? Because Kansas City is stupid. More than 100,000 cars are to be re-routed for up to three months off of I-35. Off of the route that half the city takes to get to work. Off of my self-proclaimed “fastest route to work.” This is going to be great. It was especially great this morning when I was stuck underneath one of those cement overpasses — the ones that look eerily similar to the one that COLLAPSED in Boston. I was under it for five minutes. And I started to think about it killing me. About how if it broke, I would be dead in an instant. I started to sweat and get uncomfortable and I had to roll down my window. The only comforting factor was how quick of a death it would be. I was mad at the city and at the inconvenience and all I could think about was how that stupid poorly constructed overpass could collapse and kill me at any moment. It was the same trapped, crazy feeling I get when I'm stuck under Bartle Hall. Yes, I might be slightly insane, but I'm not the only one. Check this out. And check out some alternate routes to work tomorrow and the next day and the next month and so on. And love it. LOVE IT.

i'm a sucker for tears

i watched behind the music - nick lachey last night. best. decision. ever.
i am so going to buy his new CD. laugh if you must, but critics are actually saying he's a talented musician. we'll see about that. i'm more interested in the deeply personal account of his heartbreak. each song is real and about his marriage and his breakup. he cried at the end of the show because he's not interested in money or cars or big houses - life, he said, is all about holding that little baby in your arms. that's it. that's all it's about. he cried, and he convinced me to buy his CD. watch the show and you will want to buy his CD, too.

old truths

A friend in needs a friend indeed,
a friend who bleeds is better,
my friend confessed she passed the test,
and we will never sever.

day's dawning, skins crawling.

- placebo

in need of an ice bath

it's hot. thick. miserable. humid. sunny. bright. and at work, the air conditioning is not working.

this weekend, it's supposed to be in the 80s. bring on saturday.

okay

so since i haven't been able to run, nick has decided to pick it up. just like that. i used to beg him to run with me. "we'll only go two miles," i'd say. and just one time in the past seven years did he agree to go with me. but don't think he wasn't kicking and screaming the entire way. oh, and walking. he walked most of the way, too. after that, i became okay with the fact that nick just wasn't a runner. i'd leave for a long run, tell him my route, an expected time i would be back and i'd be off. and he'd play video games or take a nap or work or study. but now, now that i can't even take a walk around the block, he is turning into a runner.

what?!?

about which i learn to just give up

i will never be a bronzed beauty. i just won't. and i clearly need to stop trying. especially on 101 degree days. on a raft. in the middle of a swimming pool. covered by zero shade trees. for two hours. with minimal sunblock. in a two-piece. with a stomach that hadn't seen the sun in years. and one rolling rock light. i think the beer perpetuated my belief that i would develop a luxurious, deep tan.

instead, my skin is on fire.

what i learned this week

1. no matter how cute the brown and teal plates are at target, don't pick them up. picking them up only results in dropping them, breaking them and making a scene. next time when brown and teal is calling your name, just say no.

2. when the doctor tells you that you'll be sporting the aircast boot for 4 weeks, what she really means is 6 weeks. don't get your hopes up and bring your left shoe to the appointment. it will just end up being a sad addition to the back seat of the car.

3. don't order the chicken ceaser salad at pappa kenos. and especially don't order the house garlic salad dressing if there is any chance you will be talking to anyone in the next several days.

4. do wear pants that fit over the boot. it's almost like you're not wearing it at all.

5. don't eat an entire tub of best choice extra creamy whipped topping in one week. it's just not a good idea.

6. do eat an entire jar of smucker's natural peanutbutter in one week. a girl needs her protein.

7. and finally, when doing a "drive by" of sister's new home, don't tell her you hate the outside paint color. instead, comment on the large yard, the huge american flag in the driveway or the cute location.

where i stand

i'm in the boot for two more weeks. but my foot is mostly better. i can start riding a bike again and in two weeks, with the help of custom orthotics, i can start to run again. i've lost so much muscle mass in the last four weeks that all of my pants are hanging off of me, and i'm five pounds lighter. it's funny, i was afraid i would gain weight. i've never heard of stopping all exercise in order to lose a few pounds.

anyway, i'm thrilled, and i'm thinking i can at least run the 5K instead of the full marathon, and if i'm really doing fine, perhaps the half?

it better be good

Last night, I was watching TV and one of those commercials for a CD compilation came on PBS or something. It was for a classical CD. The tagline was:

The best classical cd in the world…..ever.

The announcer kept saying it over and over and over. “You can purchase the best classical cd in the world – ever.”
And then he'd say things similar to:
"Be soothed with the sounds of the best classical cd in the world - ever."
"Enjoy hightened self-awareness with the best classical cd in the world - ever."

It's quite possibly the worst tagline I've heard - ever. It was like a Saturday Night Live skit, only it wasn’t a joke. But that doesn't mean I wasn't laughing.

and on a lighter note

is it okay to admit that i like nick lachey's new single?

are you kidding me?

so, i can't even begin to believe the list of mishaps that have plagued me since the end of may. but i'll try.

May 28th, two stress fractures to my left foot. prognosis: good, but no running or exercise until it heals. oh, and one awesome aircast boot.

Second week of June, a 70-hour work week, which was fun, but entirely exhausting.

Third week of June, 3 migraines. Bad ones.

First week of July, the flu. It hangs around into the second week of July.

July 10, after feeling badly for neglecting Gus due to my need to sleep all day because of the flu, I sat down to play with him. He scratched my eye. Later, my eye was red and filled with puss. called the eye doctor who agreed to meet me at the office at 10 p.m. to take a look. sure enough - eye is infected and was swollen because of a scratch on its surface. i'm sent out the door with an Rx for $60 eye drops, an order not to wear my contact until it is better and to scheduel a follow-up appointment in two days.

this thursday, i return to the podiatrist to see if i can take the aircast off. wonder what she'll say....

blah

i've been sick since wednesday. the flu. the kind with the fever and body aches and coughing and runny nose and headache and overall feeling of malaise. do i sound like a page from Web MD or maybe like an ad for tylenol flu? i'm not surprised if i do because i've consumed just about every drug made to combat this type of illness. only most of them have done little to help peel me off the couch. i missed two days of work, i missed out on anything that could have possibly been described as "fun" this weekend, and i also missed several meals due to the flu's appetite numbing symptom. but i haven't missed a single episode of trading spaces or of the search for the ulitmate cyote. i also watched paula dean and her husband, michael, discover europe for the first time together on her Food Network special. twice.

i am ready to feel better now.

a real, live toilet

not finished yet (see ugly green paint color, not-quite-finished wainscoting, and wall in disrepair), but i have never been more thankful for a working toilet.

progress

first, i give you the perfectly laid tile pre-grout. (still no toilet.)


and second, proof that i learned to style the new haircut, but forgot to open my eyes. nick looks nice though.

the stuff new bathrooms are made of

painting wainscoting with my new SHORT haircut.
nick and rob removing the old everything. this weekend, we don't have a toilet. and yes, i have learned to pee in the bathtub.