every step i take

my day started with a bad cup of coffee and a trip to the greenhills YMCA.

as much as meat markets and unlimited cardio classes titillate me, i broke up with the Y. it was only a matter of time before the love affair was over.
3 weeks to be exact.
(pretty much the usual for me)

sure, we'll meet for drinks a few more times before i quit returning phone calls. but it's definitely over. the Y is a sloppy eater and spikes his hair a little too decidedly for this cat.

seriously, i got on 3 cardio machines for a combined total of 4.5 minutes before i decided to go running. now, i haven't run in 5 weeks because this I.T. band crap has kept me off of belmont boulevard. so, i went for a run. it was kind of like seeing your lover after he's been touring europe for over a month.
it hurt a bit, but it was good.

while i ran, i came to this: men can ruin a song faster than lemons ruin dairy.

so here's a list of songs that will never be the same because their associations with the Y (chromosome that is) are indelible.


INXS "never tear us apart"
queen "under pressure"
better than ezra "this time of year"
the smiths "please please please let me get what i want"
broken social scene "anthems for a 17 year old"

now i can live without INXS.
but the smiths hurt.
not the good kind of hurt that comes with 40 minutes of solid pounding (shoes on the road that is). but hurt like a muscular tissue that twitches with every move i make.

good things

an epiphany in spin class led me to this.

i need a purpose- more than just listening to music and stalking on the internet, which i love. god! there is nothing more fun than researching people. i love finding out who ran the memphis marathon 4 years ago, or who has offices downtown. i even like to know that someone does not exist at all in cyberspace. how is that even possible???

focus. focus.
anyway, i need to make some good things out of my life.
i'm a little darwinsitic to be a martyr/saint, but i'm working on a few ideas.

on a different note- a dear friend of mine gave me the best going away present i've ever gotten.

2 tiny plastic champagne glasses
2 beautiful mod handkerchiefs (i love handkerchiefs)
a plastic man in red hotshorts, who fits conveniently in the console of my car.
a reading light
a hardback copy of babbit in that 60's crazy book cover decor
lavender sachet
vase of flowers from her garden

this is by far one of the best gifts i have ever gotten in my life.
the only thing that she could have added would have been a crawler of yazoo dos perros.

the hour grows late

i have got to quit talking.
i learned that without a doubt, tonite.
some guy just talked to me on the phone for an hour.
lucky for me, i am not a phone talker.
BECAUSE I DIDN'T GET A WORD IN.
jesus.

on a good note.
my future husband was really cute today.
he used the word slacks.
too bad i just learned his name
and can't remember how to spell it
to tattoo it on my ass.

listening man

as i am pulling into my neighborhood restaurant to drink beer with my walking buddy, i turn on "outtheother" for the first time on WRVU. this is a great weblogger/local dj who has her finger on the pulse of indie music.

make that her fist.

normally, i listen to my ipod in the car.
like i NEVER listen to the radio in my car.

but tonight i do.
of course.
and the guest dj is the dishwasher.

what are the chances?
i have offended the gods.
i must do something about this.

what if i try to be nice to the next guy i go on a date with?

if i should fall behind

i know that i have many things to do today.
i need to grocery shop.
i need to clean out my classroom.
i need to buy a baby shower gift.
i need to get a hostess gift.
i needed to go to yoga 34 minutes ago.


instead, i'm listening to bruce springsteen and calculating my realage on the internet.
apparently i'm really 26 years old.
will someone please tell the rest of the world?

break up the family

i'm working on a new theory.
mostly cause i'm bored.

i am convinced that there is a difference between men who grew up with sisters and men who grew up with brothers... i think that boys with sisters can be a little weird and bitchy. they also tend to dress better than i.
hold on.
i'm checking this on google (soooooo reliable)

apparently it's called birth constellation.
but they don't discuss the "bitchy" trait in the experimental control groups.

i'm gonna do my own data analysis.
let's do a rundown on all the men i've smooched, been attracted to, etc...
or at least the ones i can remember.

add-only child (bitchy)
abb-1 bro 1 sis (bitchy)
abbb-2 brothers (bitchy)
acf- only child (bitchy)
alw- 2 bro 2 sis (bitchy)
ajb-2 sisters
artb- only child
wap- only child (bitchy)
aab- 2 brothers
ajv-only child (bitchy)
kaa- only child (bitchy)
aeh- 2 sisters
rak- 1 brother (bitchy)
amd- 2 brothers (bitchy)
dea- 1 brother (bitchy)
dwa- 2 sisters
we- 1 sister 1 brother
maw- 1 brother (bitchy)(bitchy)(bitchy)

i see no discernible pattern.
except the one where i date a lot.
and the one where i am attracted to bitchy men.

the gay guys at work have a theory on this.
the theory includes a free pass night with me.

well mom-
the only thing that i learned from this scientific experiment was published in a related article that i found on google. it supposed that mates categorize each other in the folliwing 3 paradigms of attractiveness:

#1 warmth/trustworthiness
(oh well... i can't win them all)
#2 attractiveness/vitality
(oooh! i'm making a comeback)
#3 status/resources
(maybe he won't look at my check book while i'm in the ladies room)

fuck.
my friends are right.
i gotta quit being such a bitch and get a job.

lost time

so my blog will be a year old in less than 48 hours.
it's the longest relationship i've had in the last 2 years.

there goes my gun

i bought a book that analyzes the psychology of happiness.
as if i didn't already know that my happiness lies in this moment,
in front of this computer,
in the quiet space that holds all i can not control
and hopes for not much more than the next breath.

sometimes i look at my deltoids to make me happy, too.
don't judge.

clean getaway

i have had a myspace account since ?last year? sometime because if you don't have a login, you can't look at other people's pictures that they post on their sites. you may not think this important, but you can learn a lot about a man by his pictures. so much... cats, small hands, ugly family- you get the drift.

well today- i checked my inbox (after stalking a date from last week. i needed to verify my judgement. this guys has a semi-loaded page that he checked last week. at least he's not checking it daily. pro was some seriously hot footage of him at the beach. who says women aren't visual?)

anyway-i had six pages of e-mails in my account inviting me to join some singles group- who knew i could have skipped all of this dating and spent even more time in front of the computer not having sex?

fuck myspace.

on a new note...
exciting things from the last 2 weeks:
bought a new wax kit
met my best friend's new baby and played with her old one :-)
went to mc cartys pottery in marigold, ms
had a facial
played kickball and helped to win the game
went to a bachelorette party
felt chemistry again
found my happiness in a denim skirt and white t-shirt
rolled in the clover

the girl racer

last weekend i ran the country music half marathon.
i woke up at 5 am to run 13.1 miles.
what the hell was i thinking?


mile 1
spectacular adrenaline rush

miles 2-4
painful.
the body is not interested in warming up.
things still hurt at this point.
i decided to bag it and focus on finishing.
i cursed the 3 pounds i've earned from patio drinking
and looked around for cute boys.

mile 5
good again.
things stopped hurting at this point.
endorphins are lovely.

mile 7
i got hot and threw my sports top on the sidewalk.
at this point i quit looking for cute boys because i didn't want to see any in my state of toplessness.
i want the sports top back, but someone on belmont boulevard now owns it.

mile 8
trucked along at what i believed to be a tortoise's pace.
apparently a really hot guy gave me some accelerade.
i didn't notice, but he did.
he told me this at the shell station wed night, but hasn't called yet.

mile 9
fuck, my hip muscles and feet hurt.
i promised to never run a half again.
i decided to stick to a 15K max.
i have holes in my feet right now, as i type this.
hot. super hot.

mile 10
i realized i am actually going to finish in under 2 hours as long as i don't walk.
got a permagrin because i'm faster than i think.
i thought it would take me at least 2:10 this year.

mile 12
the cheerleaders at my school screamed at me with joy as i cussed under my breath.
well, maybe not so under my breath- that hill was the worst thing ever.
seriously.
ever.

and i finished.
proceeded to a mexican restaurant.
took 2 hydrocodones.
ate monster quesadillas.
drank a margarita.
ate a pint of ice cream and a nutty buddy.
took a nap.
went to a wedding.
ate TONS of wedding food (2 pieces of cake in there somewhere)
drank 9 vodka sodas.
ate at waffle house.
went to bed at 2am.

my training regimen for this half marathon put me at a 8 min 50 sec mile.
my training regimen was to run 16-20 miles a week.
and consume copious amounts of alcohol as a rite of spring.
that's it.
i've decided that i'm done.
being a weak-ass that is.
it's on.

im committing.
the memphis is going down in 1:40 instead of 1:56.
i'm going to the track.
i'm doing fartleks.
sleeping with some ugly track guy for training advice.
whatever.
if i'm going to be blogging on friday nights, i at least need to be fast.