Beauty
February 22, 2005
I hate to love beauty magazines. I should probably start by saying that.
This entry is also PG-13. Possibly R. I donít know.
Long story short: I work in the nursery of an all-womenís gym, where mothers can drop off their kids to play while the moms work out. Because of a Noríeaster and the fact that Monday was a holiday, no kids came to play. (Though--I want to send a shout out to Lucas, who today, like a champ, took a nap until 3:15 and made babysitting a dream. But I digress.)
So, instead of listening to the laughter of small children and delighting in the purity of their fun and frolic, I read magazines named after qualities I do not possess (Glamour, In Style, Cosmopolitan, Oprah, etc.)
This was not a good move. Oh, and I should also mention that I read the ìteenî counterpart to most of these adult magazines (i.e. Teen Cosmo).
Some commentary:
A Treasure's Trove
February 20, 2005
I have three choices here, oh blog. I could be honest about my recent exploits and write a rather dull entry. Or I could lie and write an exciting entry. Or I could exegete another Josh Groban song and amass more hate mail. Indeed, dear readers. Recently, a few ardent fans of Josh Groban felt the need to send me my first hate mail to inform me that if I were truly a Grobanite ô, I would not suggest that ìRemember When it Rainedî was about a werewolf. Apparently Joshís song cure the sick, bring sight to the blind, mend broken marriages and keep the cosmos spinning in perfect harmony. I, only watching Stargate SG-1 and American Idol, apparently missed the television spots that alerted the world to this fact. So I humbly apologize to those I have offended. I suppose I agree that the term ìGrobanite ôî was trademarked to keep its use from people like me. I concede that Remember When it Rained is not about a werewolf.
Itís more likely about a vampire.
Anyhoo, yesterday was a long run day and it was frosty cold. Hereís a tip for all of you beginning runners: Wind + frozen river = cold. Hereís another tip: Icy frozen river wind + no scarf = really cold, Adrienne you fool.
Just, you know, FYI.
The city was lovely, though. I donít care how many degrees below freezing it was (15, without the wind chill, in case youíre curious) it was light years away from the existential angst from the dreadmill. (HAóno kidding, that was a type-o. But it is an apt one, so Iím keeping it.)
Today I was supposed to go see trainer Janine, but I set my alarm to 8:00pm instead of 8:00am and ended up missing the appointment. I felt like a big jerk. I havenít done that in ages and ages, but when I do it, I feel guilty for about a week. I donít knowósometimes think that my sub-conscious is trying to sabotage my marathon attempts. My sub-conscious wants me to sit at home and watch Richard Dean Anderson save the world on a variety of syndicated shows. I think my sub-conscious is giving me pink eye for this specific end. (Seriously, my eyes are doing that rather unpleasant thing, of which I will spare you the description, which happens right before the whites of your eyes turn a rather scary reddish color.)
Note to selfówear hazmat suit to work to protect from toxic infants and toddlers.
Other than that, I am going to spend the rest of the evening trying to de-code Michael Stadtherís ìA Treasureís Troveî to find hidden treasure instead of doing my homework. I have longed for more treasure hunts in my life, ever since I was a little girl. God bless this man for actually setting one up for the children of these fair contiguous United States.
Of angst and penguins
February 17, 2005
Caution: this entry is rated PG-13.
Alarming facts:
1. I am wearing socks that do not match. They are both white, but they are two entirely different fabrics, and one has a gold toes. I didnít notice this until now, at 3:29pm. I like to fool myself into thinking I used to be more pulled together, but it probably isnít true. Just wait until I have kids. Iíll probably give up on socks entirely.
2. My shirt is heinous. It is a violent shade of red (that is decidedly not Boston University scarlet) with a large, orange basketball on the back and an equally large angry Boston terrier on the front (the fierce mascot of my institution of higher learning). It was free and it sort of fits, so I am wearing it. Coupled with the mismatched socks, I am definitely a fashion ìdonít.î
3. There is 8 weeks until the marathon. I can barely walk to class without getting out of breath. I have barely fundraised. None of this really spurs me to greatness; it just sort of cripples me with panic. I donít care if I drop over at mile 14. I do care if I donít raise the money Iím supposed to, however. Please, anyone, if you plan to donate, do so. Click on the link to the right. Donít do it for me, do it for people with cancer.
4. I entered a half marathon to be run March 13. I am afraid. Very afraid. But heyófree tee shirt. Score!
5. Touchy Feely Hoo Ha class this week was, well, Iím not sure how to describe it. My level of angst is higher than normal these days, so Iím sure Iím just being persnickety. (People should really use the word ìpersnicketyî more in conversation. Preferably in conjunction with words like kumquat, splat, blink and gross. I wonder if I have a googlewhack in there somewhere . . .)
Here are some haikus I wrote in class yesterday that demonstrate said angst:
Remember when it rained
February 15, 2005
Dude, what is with the blog spamming? I didnít even realize there was such a thing until I had nine comments for ìTexas hold emí. Just for the record, I donít play poker (or any online card games, for that matter.) So you get to the page before I have a chance to delete them, consider yourself warnedódonít click on the links thinking they relate to Theology Girl. In fact, I think the Methodist Church has a rather strict moratorium on gambling.
Random thoughtówho first called mass emails and such ìspam?î I always rather liked that word. Now it makes an icy shiver run down my spine.
In other news, I am very boring. I didnít fully realize how boring until I sat staring at the screen for ten minutes, unable to come up with anything to say. (Maybe the rest of the blog is a testament to this. Whatever, I was in denial until now.) I havenít run lately because Iíve been sick, and to keep recounting how not prepared I am for the marathon is just sort of depressing. (This goes for my fundraising efforts as well.) Ooh, I know! Iíll analyze the lyrics of a Josh Groban song. (I really should be reading Hawthorne. But honestly, why would I do my homework?)
