March 14, 2011
I had the absolute worst run in the history of the planet Earth yesterday. Instead of trying to recreate the scene, I'll just cut and paste my running log entry from The Daily Mile:
The world would be a better place if this run had never happened.
Let's really break this one down here....
Sometime around 2 o'clock, I decided it was time to venture out for a long run. Since I didn't preplan so well, I didn't have the chance to stash any water along the route. Therefore, I decided to carry my water with me. Not being able to find a handheld water bottle or my camelback bladder, I did the next best thing and opted for a baby bottle. With Winnie the Pooh on the side. And the big old nipple thing that was clearly big enough for cars to see as I got not one, but two honks and cheers from cars filled with teenage boys.
My bottle and me, we felt sluggish today, so I opted not to look at my Garmin until mile 10. It confirmed that yes, I kind of suck.
Somewhere around mile 11, I had the quick and hard urge to take a poo. Let me just tell you that there is a 0% chance of pooping in the woods during the winter in Maine and maintaining one's dignity. Since there's absolutely no leaf coverage, I opted for the 'WHY THE HELL NOT?!' route, dropped trou, and took a poo right next to the lake near a big drainage ditch thing.
I pooped all over the back of my pants.
Then my foot slipped off a little rock pile and into the lake.
At mile 14.5 I got thritsy and finished off my baby bottle.
At mile 15 I thought I was about to die of dehydration. I found the only clean patch of snow I could, and started packing it into my Pooh baby bottle. A nice family was getting out of their minivan and saw the whole thing.
They also saw me stick the bottle between my boobs to try and melt the snow.
It melted, I drank it, and I've been sitting on the toilet for three hours straight.
I really could have used some contact from and SOL in a SBC* today.
The End.
*SOL in a SBC = Super Old Lady in a Super Big Car
I've got to say that peoples' comments have been the funniest part of this entry. People are saying things like, "Way to finish it up!" and "Wow, so committed to your running!"
Uh, no.
I didn't run around with poop on my pants because I'm devoted to the sport, I ran around with poop on the back of pants because it was the only way home. Since I hadn't brought my cell phone, I had three options:
1) Knock on a stranger's door, ask for a ride, and poo up the interior of their car.
2) Knock on a stranger's door, ask to use their phone, and poo up their couch upholstery while I waited my sympathy ride from Jared.
3) Run home and don't poo up anything that doesn't belong to me.
Even in my world, the third option was the only option. This was desperation, not devotion--very different concepts you guys.
So tell me, do any of you have running horror stories? If you do, can you give me the abridged version in the comments, or a link? Something? Anything?
Top me. Please.
March in Maine: The Ugly of all Uglies
March 9, 2011
Just like anywhere else, living in Maine has is pluses, and living in Maine has it's minuses.
March in Maine is most definitely a minus.
Now don't get me wrong here, I really don't mind a cold, hard winter. But by the time March rolls around, and the snow's all dirty and brown, and I've fallen square on my ass in the icy Hannaford parking lot seven or eight times, I'm totally done.
Even James is done.
Today, in an effort to get him away from the television and out into the wonderful world of trees, air, and frozen dog poo, I filled a spray bottle with green-tinted water, and sent him outside. "Go tie-dye the snow, James!"
Three seconds later, he came inside with a major pout on his face.
"Mom," he said, "this water doesn't look green. It looks yellow."
"Yellow?"
"Yup, yellow," he sadly confirmed.
"Well James, you get back out there and make it look like our neighbors peed all over our yard!"
He smiled.
"Actually," I continued, "I don't want to see you back here until it looks like every single neighbor came to our yard with a friend and a dog, and they all peed three times each! Got it?!"
He got it alright. He's been out there for an hour and our yard looks 100% wretched right now.
Believe it or not, you actually can make March in Maine even uglier. But hoo boy, it's a whole mess of fun to do.
Just like anywhere else, living in Maine has is pluses, and living in Maine has it's minuses.
March in Maine is most definitely a minus.
Now don't get me wrong here, I really don't mind a cold, hard winter. But by the time March rolls around, and the snow's all dirty and brown, and I've fallen square on my ass in the icy Hannaford parking lot seven or eight times, I'm totally done.
Even James is done.
Today, in an effort to get him away from the television and out into the wonderful world of trees, air, and frozen dog poo, I filled a spray bottle with green-tinted water, and sent him outside. "Go tie-dye the snow, James!"
Three seconds later, he came inside with a major pout on his face.
"Mom," he said, "this water doesn't look green. It looks yellow."
"Yellow?"
"Yup, yellow," he sadly confirmed.
"Well James, you get back out there and make it look like our neighbors peed all over our yard!"
He smiled.
"Actually," I continued, "I don't want to see you back here until it looks like every single neighbor came to our yard with a friend and a dog, and they all peed three times each! Got it?!"
He got it alright. He's been out there for an hour and our yard looks 100% wretched right now.
Believe it or not, you actually can make March in Maine even uglier. But hoo boy, it's a whole mess of fun to do.
Get Our Goat?
March 8, 2011
Maybe I'll change it, to Things That Get Our Goat Thursday. It's not as intense.
And after all, I'm a mature adult now. I never utter words such as 'piss.'
Maybe I'll change it, to Things That Get Our Goat Thursday. It's not as intense.
And after all, I'm a mature adult now. I never utter words such as 'piss.'
Things That Piss Us Off
March 8, 2011
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, back in the 1990s, I used to hang around with a red headed girl named Maureen (By the way, Maureen, do you read this? I desperately owe you a phone call, I know...In the meantime, please enjoy this unsolicited slice of attention.).
That's Maureen, all grown up. She likes toys.
Back in the day, this girl was full of ideas--good, bad, genius, asinine, slightly dangerous--they were just constantly bubbling out of her brain.On a quiet, snowy night in '97, one of these ideas snuck up on her like a thief in the night, and hoo boy, it fell squarely into the Beyond Ingenious category--it was even better than the Rear End Game.
I'll let you figure out that one on your own.
If I had to guess, I'd say it was two o'clock in the morning. She was tucked cozily in her bed, I was snuggled up in a pile of clean laundry, and Maureen casually said, "Amy, let's make a video about things that piss us off. We'll take my mom's video camera, we'll set it up, and we'll just list the things that piss us off."
Then she gave a thoughtful glance up toward the ceiling, looked back at me and said, "We'll call it Things That Piss Us Off. By Maureen and Amy. Just a list...of things that piss us off."
"Things that piss us off?" I repeated.
"That's right," she confirmed. "Things that piss us off."
Obviously, we were both strictly prohibited from uttering the words 'piss off' in the presence of our parents. Clearly, we were about to make up for that. We wasted no time in setting up the video camera [that happened to be the size and weight as a cinder block], we plopped down on the pleather futon, and we went to work.
Now keep in mind, we were seniors in high school, so our list was like:
Ugh, forgetting my locker combination!
When the school nurse thinks I'm faking!
Boys who smell like cheese all the time!
Volleyball!
Gas that costs $1.29 a gallon!
...and so on and so forth.
The videos continued sporadically through college and evolved into things like:
People who backwash in beer!
Economics!
When my Gap jeans get all bunchy in the butt!
Phone bills!
People who wear puffy-painted cat sweatshirts!
Sweatshirts without hoods, period!
The videos eventually came to a stop, but the concept never did. Really now, how could it? A zillion years later, I still call Maureen after a solid six months of communication hiatus to say things like, "Things that piss me off....the IRS. And The Chrysler Motor Corporation. And baby poop in my mouth."
Trust me, it's way more fun than starting a call with a simple 'hello.'
People, I believe in this concept. Actually, I believe in this concept so much, that I've decided to open up the floor to my internet friends.
Don't faint.
I'll start.
Go ahead, take a turn. It feels really good. Like really good. And seriously, it's so much better to take your teeny, little frustrations out in a comment section than on your poor, unsuspecting spouse who's just trying to cook you a damn meatball.
I know it's only Tuesday, but I'm thinking we'll do Things That Piss Us Off Thursdays a couple times a month. Has a sweet ring to it, doesn't it?
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnd.......go!
(...as always, I have veto power over any not-niceness that I don't like)
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, back in the 1990s, I used to hang around with a red headed girl named Maureen (By the way, Maureen, do you read this? I desperately owe you a phone call, I know...In the meantime, please enjoy this unsolicited slice of attention.).
That's Maureen, all grown up. She likes toys.
Back in the day, this girl was full of ideas--good, bad, genius, asinine, slightly dangerous--they were just constantly bubbling out of her brain.On a quiet, snowy night in '97, one of these ideas snuck up on her like a thief in the night, and hoo boy, it fell squarely into the Beyond Ingenious category--it was even better than the Rear End Game.
I'll let you figure out that one on your own.
If I had to guess, I'd say it was two o'clock in the morning. She was tucked cozily in her bed, I was snuggled up in a pile of clean laundry, and Maureen casually said, "Amy, let's make a video about things that piss us off. We'll take my mom's video camera, we'll set it up, and we'll just list the things that piss us off."
Then she gave a thoughtful glance up toward the ceiling, looked back at me and said, "We'll call it Things That Piss Us Off. By Maureen and Amy. Just a list...of things that piss us off."
"Things that piss us off?" I repeated.
"That's right," she confirmed. "Things that piss us off."
Obviously, we were both strictly prohibited from uttering the words 'piss off' in the presence of our parents. Clearly, we were about to make up for that. We wasted no time in setting up the video camera [that happened to be the size and weight as a cinder block], we plopped down on the pleather futon, and we went to work.
Now keep in mind, we were seniors in high school, so our list was like:
Ugh, forgetting my locker combination!
When the school nurse thinks I'm faking!
Boys who smell like cheese all the time!
Volleyball!
Gas that costs $1.29 a gallon!
...and so on and so forth.
The videos continued sporadically through college and evolved into things like:
People who backwash in beer!
Economics!
When my Gap jeans get all bunchy in the butt!
Phone bills!
People who wear puffy-painted cat sweatshirts!
Sweatshirts without hoods, period!
The videos eventually came to a stop, but the concept never did. Really now, how could it? A zillion years later, I still call Maureen after a solid six months of communication hiatus to say things like, "Things that piss me off....the IRS. And The Chrysler Motor Corporation. And baby poop in my mouth."
Trust me, it's way more fun than starting a call with a simple 'hello.'
People, I believe in this concept. Actually, I believe in this concept so much, that I've decided to open up the floor to my internet friends.
Don't faint.
I'll start.
Highly politically charged/argumentative people.
Dog urine on my carpet.
The grout on my kitchen floor.
Calories.
Icy roads.
Go ahead, take a turn. It feels really good. Like really good. And seriously, it's so much better to take your teeny, little frustrations out in a comment section than on your poor, unsuspecting spouse who's just trying to cook you a damn meatball.
I know it's only Tuesday, but I'm thinking we'll do Things That Piss Us Off Thursdays a couple times a month. Has a sweet ring to it, doesn't it?
Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnd.......go!
(...as always, I have veto power over any not-niceness that I don't like)
The Semininja
March 3, 2010
I've been completely out of the blogging mood lately.
Sorry.
If you give me the greatest post idea in the history of the world, maybe it'll light my fire. But for now, I'll eat this banana and think about how much I don't feel like standing on a ski mountain today when the wind chill is slated to be somewhere between -15 and -30 degrees.
Then I'll think about how much I love teaching religious education classes to a bunch of teenagers in my basement every morning:
High school kids, they're always so predictable, don't you think?
Ten points to Brit for the charming smile in that first picture.
I've been completely out of the blogging mood lately.
Sorry.
If you give me the greatest post idea in the history of the world, maybe it'll light my fire. But for now, I'll eat this banana and think about how much I don't feel like standing on a ski mountain today when the wind chill is slated to be somewhere between -15 and -30 degrees.
Then I'll think about how much I love teaching religious education classes to a bunch of teenagers in my basement every morning:
High school kids, they're always so predictable, don't you think?
Ten points to Brit for the charming smile in that first picture.
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