Before I complain about how my LUNGS are BURNING and I can't stop COUGHING and thanks, all my grandparents, for smoking cigarettes throughout my childhood because clearly I have black lung, before I get into all that, I'd like to direct your attention to the column on your right.
You will see I have a new button, so you know I didn't create it, called Buy Buy Pie stuff. This button links you directly to this site, the site where June is desperately trying to get rich off her fabulous new collection of Bye Bye, Pie t shirts and coffee mugs and rhinestone thongs. Okay, someone suggested rhinestone thongs and it slays me. I don't really have any to sell. (Oh, and if you're reading this right after I publish it, my designer Sadie Olive is still working on that button, so it may give you an error reading right now. Calm down. Click my link in this paragraph. I'd hate to deprive you of June thongs.)
Speaking of slaying me, I did want to let you know that someone in Indonesia Googled "gay porn santa" for reals, and found my blog. Sadly? Mr. or Mrs. Indonesia? Has Googled it twice that I know of.
Also, who lives in Egg Harbor Township? I see your locale on my sitemeter and it is a compelling name of a township. Also, someone looks at me in Menomonie, Wisconsin. Whenever I see that, I start singing, "Mena mena. Be be be de de. Mena mena. Be be be be…" from Sesame Street.
Which trust me, you don't want in your head.
So that you don't think all I do is stare at my sitemeter, I left my warm house and bed and pets and spouse today to go running when it was EIGHTEEN EFFING DE-EFFING-GREES out. Yes, that second "effing" was necessary. Because EIGHTEEN!
I guess saying "Fahrenheit" was not as impressive as if I'd said "Celsius," because 18C is colder than 18F. Whatever.
I got to my running club wearing a long-sleeve runner's t shirt, a scarf, a running jacket, my DOWN jacket, a hat, gloves, long underwear (which was a mistake), fleece pants, thick socks, and one of those throw rugs with the bear head on it.
We learned all about running shoes and inserts and sports bras and then we had a raffle WHICH I WON, thank you, so now I get $20 off my running gear, or perhaps off the price of the ambulance ride for my lung transplant, and finally we headed out to the RIDICULOUS PARK where did I mention it was EEEEEEEEIGHTEEN DE-EFFING-GREES out?
So we ran. Well, we stretched and contorted first, like this:
and then we ran. One entire mile. Oh, shut up. It was hard. And that wind was a-blowin'.
But we ran by the water, and all these geese were there, and I felt sorry for them till I remembered they were wearing down. On my way back past the geese, they all flew up and right over my head. I was kind of hoping they'd all land on me and peck my head, like in The Birds, cause at least I'd have been warm.
Also, I passed someone walking her bitty puppy who by the way seemed to care not at all that it was
Anyway. Ten years ago, in early spring of 2000, I ran my first time to train for a marathon. They had us run and timed us, then they put us with others who ran at the same pace as we did. Now, when you are talking about my pace, "ran" is a loose term. I came in at a blistering Kenyan 14:30. In case you are not a runner, people often complain they are slow when they run a 10-minutes mile. I run a 14 minute and 30 second mile. I hate those "Oh, I'm slow; I run a 10-minute mile" bastards.
Ten years later? After an entire marathon and a half marathon and just running for fun in general? Do you know what my pace was?
Well, look. At least it wasn't longer. I'm 10 years older and eight pounds heavier than I was in 2000. I guess I shouldn't complain.
But you know I will.
Anyway, it's Saturday, so you know it's the once-a-month occurrence of when I remember to award the comment of the week, and this week it goes to Dawn in Austin. Because her strong feelings about coffee make her one of my people.
P.S. Mena mena. Be be be de de. Mena Mena…