A Borderline Love Thing

It's possible I might be even more of a sicko than the sickos who get up at the crack of dawn to go running. Why? Because I don't get up at the crack of dawn to go running. Oh no. I get up at the crack of dawn to watch other people run.

Brilliant!

Sunday morning I got up at 6 a.m. to see three months of training come to fruition when my dude ran the State-To-State Half Marathon.

He eats 13 mile runs for breakfast. I prefer glazed donuts.

He sacrifices sleep to get in a run. I sleep during his runs.

He creates and plans calendars for his training. I make fun of him.

But I was proud of him Sunday morning when he came screeching down the cobblestone in Oxford. I can spot the cadence of his footfalls a mile away, and I was snapping pictures long before he really came into view.

And I continued to snap pictures after he crossed the finish line, hunched over like he was going to throw up and looked at me all
confused and glassy before he finally went to his knees and sat in the street.

I've never seen him slowly collapse like that before... and it was awesome. (Of course made sure he was ok as I took photos. Sheesh, what kind of girlfriend do you think I am?)

"You ok?" Click, click click. "You gonna throw up?" Click, click. "For real, you don't look so good." Click, click.

He was totally fine.

While he ran 13.1 miles I downed 16 ounces of grande latté, and let me tell ya folks, it was no easy task. I was full by the halfway point, but I pushed through. As Adam was staring at the cobblestone in throw-up pose I empathized by telling him I wasn't feeling so hot myself. "Yeah dude, I just drank a latté and believe you me, stomach ache!"

As punishment he made me carry around an apple and a oatmeal cream pie for him post-race. "You're in charge of snack transportation," he said. Pssht. Like I can be fooled by a fancy title. (Ok fine, it totally worked.)

Anyway, I was hoping his jaunt might inspire me to put on my ol' running shoes again. No such luck. I love watching races but I kinda hate running. I guess you could call it a borderline love thing.

Party in the USA

Good news, y'all! I'm not getting evicted!

Ok, not that I was really going to get evicted, but I kinda thought there was a possibility of me getting evicted because the jerkwads I rent from left me a lease at my door last week saying, "If you don't sign this we will totally evict your ass. And your lard-ass cats, too."

But I was all, "Go ahead and try, beeyotches, because I'm totally gonna look up Ohio Revised Code 'cause I know the law absolutely tries to help people who don't own $1.2 million buildings, so in your face!"

Except... hold on a sec, y'all... the law is... not like that at all. Shit.

Then I sent a really nice email to the likely cute (I've never actually met her, but aren't they all) rental girl saying something to the effect of, "Hey, you seem like a mostly nice person... Why did you tell me my rent would be one thing but the lease says it's another, and that "another" is a helluvalot more than what you said? Not cool, sister."

So tonight I get home and there's another envelope at my door. Aww, shiiiiiit, I'm thinking, I'm getting evicted for reals now.

But then - surprise! - it's a new lease at the amount we had previously discussed with a letter saying, "My bad."

Ok, actually the letter was really too long for what it said and ol' girl needs an editor (kinda like I do for this blog post) but that's essentially what it said.

I. Will. Totally. Sign. In. My. Own. Blood. Cause. This. Girl. Ain't. Moving.

As Kanye would say, "I'm really happy for you rich bastards and I'mma let you finish... but let me give a shout to my boy Bob who can best summarize this sitch with his groove Dear Landlord ."

Party at my pad, y'all. Who's bringing the new Miley? (Don't hate, it's completely catchy and she drops Jay-Z and Britney. Boom.)

Obama Why?!

Protect Insurance Companies PSA from Will Ferrell

TGIF!

Waaaay Back

So here's a little known fact about me: I've been writing to a penpal since the 6th grade.

People are always surprised to learn this.

We each filled out penpal requests in the Sunday paper and our names were randomly sent to each other. That was over 20 years ago.

Stunning, eh?

Last weekend when I went to visit Kari and Julie in New York I got the chance - for only the second time ever - to see Ee. How I got so lucky in such a random pool of kids wanting penpals I have no idea. Ee is quite possibly the kindest, sweetest person ever. Why she's continued to write me letters for 20 years I have no idea, but I'm forever grateful.

When I arrived in New York I already had plans to have brunch with Ee and her husband, Paul. Taking the L train to Union Square I was nervous to see her - it was only the second time, after all - but because I've known all these little slices of her life, I felt like I could have talked to her forever.

We brunched , stopped for a snack at Pinkberry (my first!), walked through a street "garage" sale and shared stories like old friends. Because, in many ways, we are. And because Ee and Paul are awesome they enthusiastically guided me all over their East Village neighborhood, through Washington Park, past NYU, into Greenwich and even answered personal questions about their lovely condo. (Sooo, how much did this baby cost?)

We chatted about how she and Paul got married in Times Square, about their "extremely casual" soccer team, the drunk NYU students she sees as an emergency room pediatrician (she calls their parents - ha!) and about her parents, who still live in the same house in Florida where she grew up, the one that I addressed countless letter to.

We're all caught up now after hours of chatting, but rest assured in a few months or so one of us will send a letter. And then another. And another.

Our letters are more infrequent now than they were when we were younger and wrote in colored ink pens and curly girlish handwriting, but we still hit the highlights of life's new jobs and loves and diversions. And I know whenever life reshapes itself it's time to write Ee another letter.

I've Only Just Now Recovered, And This Was A Week Ago

So I was in this club in the lower east side of Manhattan last Saturday night entrenched in a dance-off with my BFFs Kari and Julie against two dudes and a girl who was grinding on them and I thought, "I think I could live here."

Not at the bar. In the city.

Plus I was wearing this really fantastic necklace that Kari loaned me, and you can pretty much do and live where ever you want with jewelry like that.

So yeah, we owned the dance-off. Those fools got served.

Kari's been a New Yorker for a year now and Julie's been in Boston for a few months, and finally their hayseed, er... still fabulous Ohio friend (that'd be me) trekked it East to visit their respective new homes.

Of course Jules first stop for me in Boston would be the Italian neighborhood, because she knows I'd want to feast my eyes on the liquid brown eyes of the B-boys there, plus this girl is never against pasta and Chianti.

Her husband, Mike, had to do some serious Indy 500 + NASCAR style maneuvering to get us there, but put him behind the wheel of Volkswagen Bug and he can make it rain in Boston. (Which, in addition to the plentiful red wine, will make me have to pee really, really bad. Sorry guys!)

Jules also successfully navigated me through the New York subway system the rest of the weekend (she was for a while a New Yorker, after all), and she amiably took on the role of tour guide through all sorts of fun sights and neighborhoods. (JFitz for mayor!)

Kari lives in a neighborhood in Brooklyn not unlike Northside in terms of the folks who live there, read: hipster explosion. Best of all there is an old-school New York pizza joint practically in the back of her apartment (YES!), and the subway is just across the street... because when it's time for her and her besties to hit the town, we need easy access, folks.

Because she's awesome and knows people who know people, we got to skip the long club lines and get straight to the dance-off. And did I mention Kari was wearing boots - with heels! - during this subway hopping, lower east side dance-off spectacular? (SaTC II extra? I think so.)

But it was all the little things that are the most memorable - the three of us getting ready together, college style, in Kari's tiny Brooklyn bedroom; Julie and I having coffee and pastries at Union Square; Kari dropping the f-bomb on an unsuspecting NYC taxi thief (yeah, take that!); and the three of us brunching and having dinner together... Just like old times.

Remember, Dance Like No One is Watching

I have no idea who these kids are, but I so want to roll with them. If I had half the moves of the red headed one I'd own every Saturday night for the rest of my life. *booty slap.

TGIF!

Yo, Google*

Wtf?!

Do I really need everyone knowing I Googled the lyrics to One More Drink the new missile shield program?

Geezus.

*This was going to be a brilliant post about my trip to Boston and New York but I got totally side tracked. Send angry letters, attn: Google.

TGIF Pumpkins!

So, Obama came to Cincinnati a week or so ago and told this delightful story. You'll love it.

All right, Boss - I'm fired up, ready to go.

TGIF!

There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out

This morning, like every morning, I vowed when I finally dragged myself out of bed after hitting snooze 47 times that tonight I would go to bed early.

Early. Like, before midnight.

"For real this time," I thought. And I thought it sternly. Yes, damn it. I mean it.

I've thought this my whole life.

I am not biologically programmed to go to bed early or to get up early. I guess you could say "early" of any variety is not my thing.

There have been various attempts at change - for school, jobs, working out. (Hahaha. *wipes tears from eyes on the latter.) But staying up late and sleeping in is the template I am cut from. When god was passing out incredible awesomeness and owl-like circadian rhythms, I was right there. "Yo, god... a sprinkle of that night musk right here."

People who wake up early always think people who don't should, and they judge you for sleeping past 10. Yet people who stay up late don't judge those who go to bed at 10. Not cool early worms.

I remember when I was little my parents would put me to bed and I'd lie awake for hours, just kind of hanging out waiting to fall asleep. Eventually I'd get bored, sneak out of bed and crawl under the kitchen table, where I would then watch my parents watch tv in the living room.

(Man, I was a weird kid.)

But my dad is like me, so in the summertime, after my mom would go to bed, he'd take me outside and let me swing on the swingset in the dark while he sat on the picnic table and smoked cigarettes. I can see myself swinging under the starry Indiana sky like it was yesterday.

The first time I ever snuck out of my house I was about 10 or 11. It wasn't to do anything bad, like meet a boy (gasp!), it was because I was bored, it was forbidden and it was invitingly dark outside. So while my parents slept, I snaked myself down the steps and out the front door.

It was exhilarating. And in my feverish excitement, I danced underneath the street lamp beside our house.

Now, instead of doing interesting things like spy on people from under the kitchen table or dance like a maniac in the street, I read.

I know, booooring.

But in my head I am witness to what others aren't in these late hours. I'm in on everything. All the world is in its place and then, there are those few fleeting moments before I finally fade off when I think, "ahhh, I get it now," and everything is illuminated.

Then I wake up seven hours later and have to start all over again.

Labor Day Weekend - A Photo Recap

The Blue Angel went to see Amber and Mike get married.



Oh, and I went too. (What? You think you've seen this dress before?)



Check out my view of the Labor Day fireworks. Pretty awesome, eh?



This evening I saw this baby. It was the real deal, the full-on arch, not the usual half-arch you see on other, lesser rainbows.

Also this weekend I bought a bunch of crap online (you're welcome, economy) and watched the movie Adventureland, which was sweet and melancholy all at the same time. You should watch it.

Oh yeah, sorry I forgot to post a TGIF video on Friday. My bad.