It just feels like a Randumbery kinda day doesn't it? In the 80’s – ‘member those? - there was a weird series of subversive movies making the rounds called Faces of Death. It spawned several sequels. It was really inappropriate, as I say to my kids now, but at the time we could feel our teenage rebellious innards embiggen with every knock of the mallet on the monkeys skull and every mouthful of brain a diner eagerly gulped down. Monkey brains, a delicacy in some parts of the world! It was one of the scenes, one of the more subdued scenes in fact, in the Faces of Death “films”. But you had to be in the mood to sit through it….much like sitting through Randumbery. I’ve decided for you that you’re in the mood.
Your Pancreas Looks Fat
As the owner of a daughter, I’ve become more aware of the societal pressures on female body image. It struck me in the face the day my then seven year old filly lifted up her shirt to show her rail-thin, rib cage exposed, near starvation level stomach and pronounced “I think I’m getting fat.” After I picked my lower jaw off the floor, I then launched into a series fawning compliments about how perfect she is and how she could eat at buffets for the next two years and no one would notice and that, though her belly button area could lose a millimeter or two, let's be honest, her stomach was perfect size - overall (almost no one will notice the millimeter or two) – for someone her age. Some of that may or may not be true but I’m sure I acted like a real buffoon with all of the over-exaggerated, self-esteem building compliments to combat the spector of anorexia looming behind her.
She looked at me like I was on crack. I eyed my fourth fudge stripe cookie suspiciously and put it away.
I think Stephen Colbert’s recent “The Word” summed things up pretty good. It’s well worth five minutes of your time. Pure genius comedy. Love this:
|The Colbert Report||Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c|
|The Word - Buy and Cellulite|
How Quickly You Metabolize Quizno’s
The 115th Boston Marathon is Monday. There’s part of me that wants to be there and part of me that’s glad I’m not. I sure as hell didn’t want to have to train through this gawdawful winter. One of my favorite memories of the 2008 Boston Marathon was learning just how quickly my body could take in a solid food through the mouth, process it, and then spray it out my anus in pure liquid form. Total time? About twenty minutes. Long –time readers will recall my unfortunate choice to eat a taco from an airport taco stand in Washington D.C. while awaiting the connection to Boston.
Bad decision. I couldn’t hold anything in for two days. I walked around Boston with an eye towards each restroom as my body continually rejected food. After 48 hours, I figured the bug must have passed so I gambled and ate a few big bites of a Quizno’s sub. Then I ate another. Then I turned slightly green. Then I thought I was Paul McCartney for four minutes. Mrs. Nitmos asked how I was doing and I said “Let it be, let it be.” After a few minutes of gently sobbing with my face in my palms, I headed into the Quizno’s bathroom and sprayed down their stall like a fireman putting out a porcelain fire.
Maybe I was still sick. Or maybe Quizno’s is the perfect laxative.
Our good blog friend John Frenette from HellaSound has new music available. It’s original running music synced to YOUR pace and designed to burn calories. Have you checked it out? He has several songs in his catalog as well as a free song that you can check out to see what it is all about (according to his email blast).
John so graciously provided the intro music for our upstart podcast, Banned on the Run (currently experiencing production delays, cost overruns, rewrites, rehab, and general apathy), at no charge. How did we repay him for his time? By using it 2-3 times and then not podcasting anymore. Since none of the BotR crew are going to pay him for his time, the least YOU could do is buy a song or two from the guy. Go there.
Yesterday’s race pace eight miler was accomplished at 6:43 pace. That’s better than last week’s 6:47 pace but the destination is 6:35 pace. I need to go down more (t.w.s.s.)
I’ll be at six – that’s 6 – soccer games this weekend for the kids. Who would have thought standing on the sidelines eating popcorn, chatting with other parents, and shouting “You gotta want it!” with popcorn shards spitting out of my mouth could be so exhausting? I don’t know why the kids are complaining.