Wednesday, August 30, 2006
By an Eye that Can't be Stopped
Well, I've done it. I've officially gotten old. I've paid money to a chiropractor. Jesus Christ.
I've found out that I can run real strong for 13 miles. Then my legs start to sort of call attention to themselves. It's still depressing me how far I am from being a fast runner.
Speaking of which, I will sadly miss spending the upcoming weekend with fast runners. It's too bad. I even took Friday off, was looking forward to racing . . . . but I just got out of five years of debt and need to stay that way. And it's time I painted the garage doors. Fuckin' being old and responsible.
I really feel bad for a buddy of mine who has this gigantic pile of cow shit for a boss, but he can't tell anyone about it or do anything to rectify it. It's a certifiably lose-lose situation that couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It wouldn't be quite as bad except the pile of cow shit really thinks he's the bee's very best honey.
I really like this band called New Sense. It's a dumb name for a band, but they're pretty spiffy.
We went on a nice vacation that maybe I'll write about soon. It was fun and shorter than it felt.
I think we've finally defeated this beast called summer. Oh, sure, she's got a few weeks of life left in her. But as I sit here by the open window, the wind coming through it cool and dry. Just what I've been waiting for.
I don't know that I've given adequate respect, but I should point out that my wife is one hell of a cook. Really solid with the foods. She'll say she hates it, but deep down in her culinary glands, her heart pumps the blood of . . . I guess I forgot what I was going to say, but just take my word for it that she can whip up a nice batch of whatever if you need it.
There's this great Steely Dan collection that includes this introduction by some wasted guy that's just hilarious. I haven't heard it for years, but it's a real kick that I can't get out of my mind.
Sometime during my high school years, my sister went off to New York City and came back with a New York T-shirt for me. I wore it. Then I turned it into a running shirt. It was perfect for a running shirt -- nice, thin cotton. Then one day we had a tie-dyeing day at practice, and the New York shirt was my offering. After a while, it graduated to a "pizza" shirt, meaning it was a shirt I would wear at my illustrious job as a pizza chef extraordinaire. And at some point in time, my sis made the exasperated comment about how I destroyed her gift to me. But what she was missing was that that shirt saw it all -- it moved from job to job as one of my shirts, like no other shirt before. That's not too bad, especially when I could consider all the other birthday and Christmas gifts that didn't get all that attention. And hold on to your seats for this: I bet, standing in that store in New York, my sis never could have imagined that 13 years later, her bro would be on this thing called the internet, writing about the very gift she was about to purchase. Pretty amazing little gift now, isn't it? So there's nothing to get so upset about, Fahr. I liked the shirt.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to look out the window of my color TV.
I've found out that I can run real strong for 13 miles. Then my legs start to sort of call attention to themselves. It's still depressing me how far I am from being a fast runner.
Speaking of which, I will sadly miss spending the upcoming weekend with fast runners. It's too bad. I even took Friday off, was looking forward to racing . . . . but I just got out of five years of debt and need to stay that way. And it's time I painted the garage doors. Fuckin' being old and responsible.
I really feel bad for a buddy of mine who has this gigantic pile of cow shit for a boss, but he can't tell anyone about it or do anything to rectify it. It's a certifiably lose-lose situation that couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It wouldn't be quite as bad except the pile of cow shit really thinks he's the bee's very best honey.
I really like this band called New Sense. It's a dumb name for a band, but they're pretty spiffy.
We went on a nice vacation that maybe I'll write about soon. It was fun and shorter than it felt.
I think we've finally defeated this beast called summer. Oh, sure, she's got a few weeks of life left in her. But as I sit here by the open window, the wind coming through it cool and dry. Just what I've been waiting for.
I don't know that I've given adequate respect, but I should point out that my wife is one hell of a cook. Really solid with the foods. She'll say she hates it, but deep down in her culinary glands, her heart pumps the blood of . . . I guess I forgot what I was going to say, but just take my word for it that she can whip up a nice batch of whatever if you need it.
There's this great Steely Dan collection that includes this introduction by some wasted guy that's just hilarious. I haven't heard it for years, but it's a real kick that I can't get out of my mind.
Sometime during my high school years, my sister went off to New York City and came back with a New York T-shirt for me. I wore it. Then I turned it into a running shirt. It was perfect for a running shirt -- nice, thin cotton. Then one day we had a tie-dyeing day at practice, and the New York shirt was my offering. After a while, it graduated to a "pizza" shirt, meaning it was a shirt I would wear at my illustrious job as a pizza chef extraordinaire. And at some point in time, my sis made the exasperated comment about how I destroyed her gift to me. But what she was missing was that that shirt saw it all -- it moved from job to job as one of my shirts, like no other shirt before. That's not too bad, especially when I could consider all the other birthday and Christmas gifts that didn't get all that attention. And hold on to your seats for this: I bet, standing in that store in New York, my sis never could have imagined that 13 years later, her bro would be on this thing called the internet, writing about the very gift she was about to purchase. Pretty amazing little gift now, isn't it? So there's nothing to get so upset about, Fahr. I liked the shirt.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to look out the window of my color TV.
