Damn it, Sir Montgomery! You had to go there. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. No, you had to insert yourself into a matter, which, ultimately, you could not handle.
Grant it, it did all end well. You were rescued, bathed, fed, and well-cared for. But, did you ever think, for a second about the heartache that your absence caused? Oh yes, Sir Montgomery, there were tears! Tears flowed, freely and with anguish. There were lamentations of loss and grief.
Oh and what else? The neighborhood was thoroughly scoured. Brigades of humanity were informed of your disappearance. Man hours were spent on the search for you, Sir Jasper Montgomery.
Ah, yet, this was an adventure for you after all. This was a little break from your otherwise humdrum and regimented life. A life of leisure, yes, but also a life of predictability. Given your youth among the sheep and hills of Yorkshire, I am want to understand your desire for adventure. But, Sir Montgomery, isn’t your youthful indiscretion the very reason you were cast out of Yorkshire?
An adventure. Oh yes, to be sure, it was but a jaunt around the trails and wilds of Katy, Texas. What could possibly go wrong? Death? Destruction? Fleas?
No matter, all is well. But, Sir Montgomery, what happened to your companion? What, pray tell, happened to that golden maned chap who was, no doubt, the instigator in all this madness? Did you even catch his name? Oh dear, what possessed you to run off with that rough and abrupt caller? His good looks? His unbridled enthusiasm? Where you attempting to impress Miss. Chase, per chance?
There you go, Sir Montgomery, blaming others. You say that it was Miss Chase all along. That she, upon spying the blond mane of the caller, scampered exuberantly outside and attempted to “head butt” (your words) her way out of the fence. I ask you, Sir Montgomery, as your friend, how likely is that?
You, too, were curious about the blond maned caller. I heard him too. To be sure, his exclamations had be alarming. But that’s what they were – alarming. To you however, they were sweet nothings. I cannot imagine the honey tinged words that he used to induce you to abandon all caution and good sense and leave the safety of our humble abode.
But leave, you did Sir Montgomery. You, no doubt, emerged from behind the loose board in a triumph, excited by the adventure to come. Like a siren the blond haired caller had lured you. Like a silly fool, you obliged him.
What came next was shear and utter folly. You and he rushing about the trails and wilds like mad beasts. To and fro. To and fro with not a care in the world. Madness!
Until darkness began to descend, that is, and then what seemed like a holiday jaunt became more sinister. The lights of the mechanical beasts and the roar of their ungodly engines became frightening. You no longer felt buoyed by the wonder of the world outside your home. There were suddenly dangers everywhere. Monuments and artifacts became unfamiliar. As you and your companion drew further and further away from home the scents of urine and feces became less familiar and, as a result, less comforting. Your excitement began to wane.
You found yourself flummoxed and afraid. You suddenly felt tired. It was getting on towards dinner time. Ah, but your companion, that mangy beast, he urged you to continue on. Your doubts, however, began to grow. You began to look about for a way to leave that vile siren. It would be fun, the beast had said. And, it had been fun, but that feeling had been eroded by hunger and worry.
Alas, you and the vile caller, came upon a creek that rushed with muddy waters. In your despair, you looked up to see your savior – a woman. A stranger, to be sure, but a friendly one. She beckoned you toward her. Briefly, you glanced at your companion. He had no use for a human stranger. But you did.
And so you are home now. Back from your fleeting adventure. Back to the comfort of a good, stinky blanket. Welcome back, good Sir.
Your Ever Lasting Butt Buddy,
I like my job. I basically get paid a lot of money to play with computers all day. It beats lawyering one hundred percent. I’ll have to continue this later though. I’ve been working too much and I’m coming down with a cold.
Regardless of my feelings about rape (I’m against it). Regardless about my feelings about CNN (mixed, with a sprinkling of disgust). I can honestly say that the spectacle of six “women of age” raising their hands in response to very serious questioning by Don Lemon and his co-hostess about if Bill Cosby had ever drugged their drinks, makes me cringe. I actually cringed while plodding along on the treadmill.
I was listening to a Filter song of some sort, but the gym’s tv sets have closed captioning so I was literally, not figuratively, but literally forced to watch this stupid show – “Cosby’s accusers meet face to face for the First Time.” This is all well and good, but also, super cringe-worthy. I know these ladies volunteered for the show and they want their television justice, but watching all these elderly former models and actresses describe their encounters with Mr. Cosby just made me really annoyed. The whole thing just smacked of exploitation. But if like ten women “of age” are there, are they really being exploited? I don’t know.
I do know that my run was painful simply because I had to watch parts of this show. I had to listen (okay, read) to such gems as “In the 70s we called it groping, now we call it sexual assault.” Really? Because I would have thought that someone grabbing your breasts in public, would have always been a little rapey. My big question is, what good is this going to do for anyone, CNN?
Workout – 50 minute jog on the dreadmill
Servers – One chassis that whose power supply didn’t work; one server with a failed hard drive in an array of 4. All vintage 2003 hardware.
Yesterday, I was watching Independence Day for like the trillionth time. When Jeff Goldblum swaggered sexily out of the alien’s ship after kicking ass, I told my sister, who had innocently wandered in, “That’s the money shot. Jeff Goldblum can have my baby.” Jeff Goldblum – circa Jurassic Park and Independence Day, but NOT, not, not The Fly – can totally have my baby. I mean, like, if Jeff Goldblum showed up at my doorstep and offered me his penis – circa Jurassic Park and Independence Day, but NOT, not, not The Fly – I’d take it. And like I don’t mean he’d have to offer his penis to my 13 year old self, because that would be all pedo-bear. He can very well offer it to myself now, the 34 year old self.
Swimming – 2750 yards
Jogging – 55 minute with mile “fast*” intervals
Almost every year a spirited debate about the use of headphones (to listen to music or whatever) pops up on Slowtwitch. What usually happens is that some intrepid triathlon noob shows up and innocently queries about headphone use during the run portion of the triathlon. Said noob is usually a runner and in running competitions/events, except for like elite or collegiate type races -think 800m, headphone use is usually allowed. In triathlon, headphone use is not allowed. So the noob is usually confused. Makes sense, right?
Oh but each time such a question is posed, the thread erupts into a lively discussion about the pros and cons of wearing headphones during running, not during the running portion of the triathlon, no…during running. Like on you own or in a group. But like for training or recreationally. Just, you know, jogging along, minding your own business. Also, every fucking time, the same worn pros and cons are trotted it out. Each argument is purely based the poster’s own preferences, of course, and they state their preference as such – you know, theirs.
But then come the assholes. You know, the fledgling napoleons who think that their preference is the best preference and, thus, must be adhered to by all others in society. So some examples –
- The hippies – “No one should ever listen to music while they run. Every runner should be at one with nature. Listen to the warbling of the tit, the rustle of that old weeping willow on Old Lady Fitchner’s lawn, the peeing of the fawns as they trample through your rosebushes.”
- Mr. Safety – “You will, undoubtedly, get hit by a Mack truck if you run with headphones on. Leave no doubt, your carcass – bones, blood, and bile – will be strewn across the blacktop for the carrion to light upon during their forays across the sky.”
- The philosophers – “You need, need, need to run without headphones, because you need to think deep thoughts about universe. You need to feel at one with your body. You need to listen to your steps, hear the blood as it rushes throughout your veins to nourish your body with GU and gatorade, and remember that one day, even your body will return to the Earth.”
- Officer KissmyAss – “Listening to music gives you an unfair advantage. It helps your cadence. It makes you go faster.”
Well no shit Officer, that’s exactly why I like to listen to music when I jog. But seriously, I’m so fucking slow that it doesn’t matter. Seriously, please don’t shoot me. I know I’m brown, but calm the fuck down.
So anyways, I like to listen to three types of media when I jog – audiobooks, podcasts, and/or music. What I listen to depends on how long my run is and where I am running. For example, today I jogged on a treadmill for two fucking hours. During those hours, you know what I “watched” on the gym’s t.v.? CNN. You know what headline, that old, esteemed laurel of television news was blasting? “Source:Terrror Cells Activated” Seriously, CNN? You suck suck huge ass donkey balls. just HUGE. More on that later.
Anyhow, because it was incredibly boring, I listened to music the whole time. If I had jogged outside, I would have listened to a book or podcast for one hour and then music for the second hour, because you know, negative split. Here’s some of the music that’s on my play list –
- California Love – Tupac (2pac?)
- Can you dig it? (The Warriors)
- Bang Bang – Ariane Grande
- Hey Man, Nice Shot – Filter
- Jane Says – Jane’s Addiction
- Award Tour – A Tribe Called Quest
Jogging – 2 hours on treadmill
Swimming – 1600 yards
Yeh…I’m thinking about what to do for this one.
To get a whopping 5% off my insurance premium, I have to get a physical. I’m okay with this, because I love, love, love data about myself. Seriously, I love knowing about my weight, cholesterol, blood pressure, resting heart rate, blood glucose levels, thyroid levels, fat percentages, neurotic tendencies, poop intensities, poop urges, you know, whatever.
My physical is scheduled for tomorrow. But I have a concern. As a part of the physical, I get to talk to a registered dietician. The problem is that I’m afraid that I’ll get in trouble because of the amount of butter I eat and the amount of beer I drink. The beer thing I can handle, because it’s a vice I choose and do not apologize for. The butter thing though….
Well my decision to forgo most vegetable oils, including margarine and “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter,” was borne out of reading Gary Taube’s books, reading Vinnie Tortorich’s book, and reading Denise Minger’s book. Basically, the message is vegetable oils? Probably not all that great for you. And you know what? Butter tastes FUCKING AWESOME. I fucking love butter. More on that later.
So I think that, tomorrow, I’m just going to pay lip service to whatever the dietician says. If I’m ornery enough, and I might be, since it’s morning, I’ll explain my reasoning. Also am I trying to lose weight? LOL! No Ms. Registered Dietician. I have absolutely not time for that nonsense, plus it’s fucking boring. I don’t like being bored. That’s why I have like a billion projects going on at the same time. Plus, I tried the weight loss thing once and it was really assinine and not intellectually or creatively stiminulating and I think that’s why a lot of uninteresting people harp on it so much. Plus, if everybody just stopped eating so much sugar, ate more butter and eggs, exercised, and maybe, just maybe, smoked a few packs of cigarettes a day, they’d all be svelte and we, as a society could move the fuck on.
Food Diary (boring and last time! Yay! ‘Cause really? Who gives a flying fuck? Registered Dietician does. That’s who.)
Breakfast – Almond butter sandwich (Ezekiel bread). No sugars added on anything.
Lunch – Salad, same as yesterday. ( I like to eat the same thing every day. It keeps things easy).
Dinner – Crockpot chicken and potatos
Drinks – Beer, water and Coffee
Jogging! 64 minutes (6miles)
10k Step Challenge – 5533 steps (doh. fail. I gotta figure out how to get in more walking during my day).
Occasionally, I’ll eat a salad for breakfast. This morning was one of those occasions. Don’t be jealous!
Food Diary (Boring shit)
Breakfast – 2 eggs liberally cooked in butter. A cup and a half of salad (lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives). Doused salad with olive oil and red wine. Eat with fork while driving to work. Take that distracted driving concern nerds.
Lunch – The Big Salad. Salad with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, cheese, broccoli, and mushrooms. Doused liberally with olive oil and a smidgen of red wine.
Late Dinner (too many errands) – Chicken Salad. Salad (see above) topped with chicken strips and parmesan cheese.
Drinks – water, coffee, beer.
Swimming – 2200 continuous in 50 minutes.
Cycling – 27 minutes in zone 2 (Was supposed to be zone 3, but it’s hard for me to get my heart rate up with such a short workout. Need to butch it out or something.)
10k Challenge – 6263 steps (Gah. Fail.)
I have a headache and I’m I have some drainage. Gah. No.
I have an awesome smartwatch. It came with a pedometer app. At first, I was like “suck it, pedometer app! You suck. I work out enough.” Slowly though, like a siren urging Odysseus off his ship, the silent, green judgment of the pedometer screen has been calling to me.
First, for some reason, it has my stats. Now I swear, I don’t remember entering my stats, but it has them. It knows, mysteriously somehow, that I’m a 30 something year old fat lady. It must have been hacked by some nefarious do-gooder.
Second, and here’s the kicker, it gets mad if I don’t stand up and walk around after an hour. It’s a really passive aggressive little fucker too. It snoozes. So I’m humming along through my day. Sitting on my ass. Typing and analyzing and being productive and then I look down and there, on my wrist, is the pedometer app. And it’s proudly displaying the number of steps I’ve managed to trudge through so far – like 300 or so. Shit, and it’s only noon! But also, right above that large, glowing number, are z’s. Just a lot of z’s, ’cause it’s snoozing.
See. Sleepy ol’ pedometer app. I know though, somehow, that it wants me to wake it up. It gives me coy nudges like that. The damn thing is challenging me.
So I’ve decided to take the little fucker’s challenge. Yes, I’ve ripped off the cords tying my ass to my seat and have jumped into the cold water of the reality of walking around my office every hour like a moron. I get up every hour and act all cool like I’m gonna go to the bathroom. And I do. I do go to the bathroom, because I usually drink a lot of water and I have to pee. But also, I walk laps around the office.
My office has an open floor plan – no offices, no cubicles. People just sit there, pretending to work, but really, they’re staring at you. So I try to walk with a purposeful gait, like I’m actually trying to accomplish something. Maybe I’m going to a meeting. Maybe I’m going to the bathroom. Maybe I’d like some of that cake there. You know that cake that you brought for Kim’s birthday. The one with the cream cheese frosting. That looks good. Look’s like there’s some left over. Yes, I’m purposeful for cake. Hey, is that seat taken?
Food – (Boring)
Anyhow, today I ate an almond butter sandwich for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and some salmon and a baked potato with copious amounts of butter and sour cream for dinner. Also, I ate lots of cashews as a snack.
Work Out –
None. I failed at hitting 10,000 steps because of cake or something. I forget. Also we finally found that stupid mouse that has been tormenting me forever since November. He’s dead now. He was a stinky motherfucker. So between cleaning that mess up and making dinner, I didn’t get to my workout today. Here’s to the morning.
10k challenge – 8749 steps (Bummer)
This is the year I train to complete Ironman Cozumel. I am incredibly excited and nervous. Technically, I started preparing to train last summer. In preparation, I’ve eliminated sugar from my diet, for the most part. Last June, I got a full physical. Except for my heart rate and weight, my doctor was happy with my results. His words to me were, “keep doing what you’re doing.”
Since I recently enrolled in my company’s insurance, I have another physical scheduled on Friday. I’m getting the physical so that I can get a 5% discount on my family’s insurance. However, I’m curious to compare my new results to the results I got 6 months ago. In June, I weighed 180lbs and I still was just progressing off sugar.
Now I weigh 169lbs and I’ve limited my sugar intake a lot. However, I’ve concurrently increased my fat intake. So instead of eating cereal or a muffin for breakfast, I eat eggs or leftover meat and a salad. Instead of eating a sandwich with potato chips for lunch, I usually eat a mixed greens salad with eggs, olives, assorted vegetables, cheese, and olive oil and red wine. For dinner, I eat some sort of mean – chicken, beef, fish – and some sort of starch and/or salad or vegetables. For snacks I eat lots of assorted nuts. I also only drink three things, for the most part – water, coffee, and beer. I’d like to know if my cholesterol numbers have increased since I eat so much fat now. Or do I?
Eating this way has balanced out my blood sugar. I don’t get “hangry” anymore. I don’t get so hungry toward the evening that I can’t workout and can’t get filled up. It’s a novel and happy feeling to be able to feel normal in the evenings even if I’m sort of hungry. It’s also awesome to be able to jog a few miles without feeling famished during the run because I’ve run out of carbs or something.
Now, to be sure, I am not trying to lose weight. I am, however, trying to reach my Ironman goal. So this way of eating helps a lot.