Morning before xmas

Twas the morning before xmas
and all through my house
not a creature was stirring
except my cats and their mouse.

The stockings were packed
in their boxes this year
Because this xmas season
I'm up to my rear.

And Radford was snuggled
all down in his den
Meaning Dylan was king
of the complex again.

With eggnog in hand,
and no one to toast
I'd just settled down
for a little blog post.

When on my computer
there arose such a clatter
I clicked on my email
to see what was the matter.

Someone had sent me
themselves in disguise
as an elf of dear Santa
with big bulging eyes.

Chuckling a little
I turned to my blog
Scrolling through the year's post
to see what I've logged.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a gamut of stories--not so bad of a year!

In January, for instance,
I headed to Philly
with Praxis and Y arms
climbing steps willy nilly.

And the rest of the year
in the cranky hall of fame
I'll shorten and simply
list them by name:

Damn Catbirds, OUT CP, and what's with Texas shabbats?
Dreams of aliens, hippos, McSteamy, and marmots.
Goodbye G, Hello running, Chinese and the burbs
Kimday, Lubbock, Fence Rider, and Bizarro Catbirds

Not as wild as last year
but who's keeping track?
At least I have finally
come to terms with my "rack."

Don Eduardo remains happy
He's had a great run (no pun intended)
but for 2008
I'm accepting my buns

And this poem could go on
but I'm into brevity
Happy xmas to all
or at least "wine up" like me!

Bizarro Catbirds

I was supposed to run in the pool tonight, but I'm getting a little tired of that. Seriously, this injury (if that's what it is) is the worst thing that could happen to my training. I wasn't all that motivated to run once I got past the 18 mile mark. In fact, as soon as I did my first 18 mile training run, I slacked off for about a week. Then i started up again until my next 18 miler, and that was it.

So now that i actually have a reason (other than beer and oreos) to sit on my ass, I am really not so motivated for this thing. It is boring, not to mention embarrassing, to run in place in the pool, and all I keep thinking is that there is no way I will ever finish 26 miles, since the 26 miles I will be running will be on pavement and not in the water. I had better get good news on Friday, or I will kick some ass, hurt foot or not. I have to start real training again.

That said, I went to the suburban bar tonight with 2shirts, ate chex mix for dinner, and drank Chimay and some other yeasty beverages. I was talking to 2shirts about an article that I read in the foot doc's office. You know, it's like the anus was once the last hold out--the only place left that we weren't forced to pluck, scrutinize, and compare to others. Seriously, not to echo the comment on the website, but is there any place left on our bodies that is just ours? I digress.

Point being, I was telling this to 2shirts, who had already heard about the process and who claims that it is because as we age, our asshole turns from a zesty pink to a haggard brown (how do people know this crap [no pun intended]?). Right in the middle of the story, I look at the direction that 2shirts is motioning and see an eavesdropping bartender who then pretends to pick staples out of the wall instead of admitting his desire for anal bleaching.

Then I meet up with 4 construction people who pat me on the back for being able to "dish it out" as well as they. Somehow, anal bleaching comes up again (2shirts), and we discuss it some more. Unbelievable.

Then out of nowhere, I suddenly become a freakin' psychic. Seriously, I guessed every one of their ages spot on. I missed one guy's by 5 days (his birthday is on the 7th). Otherwise, dead on. They even all checked their wallets. I guessed the sports they played in college, too, but that wasn't so hard. The golf guy was a little taken aback, but I can always spot a golfer. They have a particular neck. Don't ask me what it is about the neck. They just have it. very weird. then we watched The Contender, and I went home.

So that's it. Suburban nightlife includes talk of anal bleaching and psychic sideshows. I came home and ate spaghetti o's and watched Laverne and Shirley clips on you tube, thanks to a blog I read.

God I miss the city. I have become so lame!

The girls, Vajeesus and Don Eduardo

So I've been too cranky to post, but since my little Clustrmap thing started over recently, and now I don't have those cool giant red dots all over the country, I feel like I should provide some posts. (That was the longest sentence I've ever written on this blog).

So I'm looking at past August posts for inspiration, and I found that August of 2006 was a wonderful year. I finally came to terms with my boobs, after making the resolution to on Jan 1, 2006 via phone to Glinda. In fact, my post on Aug 7 was all about how I patted them in the shower to show how much I loved them. AW.

Then there was the post on Aug 17ish, when G and all of the angels were hanging out at the birthplace (and birthtable) of Don Eduardo and someone, I'm thinking SFV, named her hooha Vajeesus.

Then there was this night. Ah, I can still smell the pre-puke. And the day after.

And that was also the month of the mysterious bruise that G gave me when I tried to haul her ass up the stairs and into her bed safely! Said bruise got me many looks at work and even a comment from my boss. At least she didn't nail me to the wall.

And all I can say is that this August, I've spent most of my nights at the hospital with grandma, most of my days at work with the crazies and with the cp who makes my ass twitch (and not in a good way) and my week off moving grandma and trying to find a place in the cool part of town. Alas, there is no said place, so my ass has to move to the only freaking apt in Stepford...er, i mean Clear Lake, and THEY can't even decide if I'm good enough for them. Seriously, they have called references, and it has been 5 days since they took my money, and they still haven't made a decision as to whether or not I'm cool enough to live in their Disneyfied crackerbox. Vajeesus!

So in 2 weeks, I may be homeless. Seriously. Homeless.

I WANT AUGUST OF 2006 BACK!

rosebud

my asshole has a martini! and the bartender actually pronounced its name correctly. don eduardo is pleased.

sadly, tootie g doesn't have one.

Mesa Testa

Yesterday I lost my glasses, keys, and wallet in 3 different places. I found them all, but geez! This meant an evening hitching free rides on the lightrail and watching Sheryl Crow with no beer. Cranky was CRANKY (which is only fitting on G's last night in town).

It was a 75 hour week last week, but this week should be much lighter. I'm not even counting hours, and it's like a burden lifted, except for the fact that my brain has gone on hibernate.

Ok, I need me some Breakfast at Tiffany's, some wine, and some girl scout cookies. Yes, this is what single 30 somethings do on Thursday nights. I remember the days spent crawling from pub to pub. Now I crawl from couch to bed after falling asleep during a movie. Really, I've got to start having a life again. The year of Don Eduardo is not proving as adventuresome as the year of my boobs. Maybe I should make it the year of my boobs AND Don Ed.

To give myself credit, though, I did make a spontaneous decision to hit the Devilport the other day, where the bartender once again poured me samplers in rocks glasses and where the girls came out to say hi. The place is evil, and it is now compounded by the fact that it has free wifi now, so I can do work while being sucked into an abyssmal stupor. That should be productive.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'd like to introduce you to my two friends, Don Eduardo and Stinky Pete.