Cyclothymia

Things I've Learned Recently

• Given my shockingly paltry alcohol intake lately, it is somewhat imprudent to go on a wine-tasting date. Two drinks in a month?! Oh, my poor neglected vodka. I have a loud mouth to begin with, but getting hammered in the first 45 minutes of a date seems to knock out whatever ragged bit of propriety I had managed to scrounge up for the occasion.

"You, sir, need to learn all about hyenas and their bizarre PENISES! No, really, they're fascinating! Sure, I'll take more wine. Anyway, the females have PENISES! Well, to be precise, they have PENIFORM CLITORI, but they're basically PENISES. Seriously! Isn't that, like, TOTALLY AWESOME?! But wait, it gets better, or worse, depending on whether you're a hyena or not - the females GIVE BIRTH through the aforementioned PENIFORM CLITORI. Max tip stretch? 2.5cm. Average cub head diameter? 7.5cm. You do the math. Let's just say a lot of dead puppies are born to first time hyena moms. Thankfully it (by which I mean the GIRL PENIS) rips during that first birth, so the others are fine. Isn't that soooooo weird?"

Cute, smart, funny, athletic, and apparently completely inhibition-free...dating me is a dream.

• One person's "rolling hills" are another person's "death march". It's just lovely that we have our own individual experiences isn't it? That is such a special part of the special gift of life. I went for my first outside ride of the season; 20 miles on what was described as "rolling hills." The funny thing about "rolling hills" is that what they really are are "endless hills." Before you have time to say "thank jeebus, a downhill," you look up and, shocker of shocks, oh yes, it's ANOTHER fucking uphill.

This experience has convinced me to buy proper bike shoes. My regular pedals with runners ain't cuttin' it anymore. I refuse to get my ass kicked by my riding partner every week for the foreseeable future. I WORK OUT DAMMIT, IT'S NOT FAIR. But you know what, it was a spectacularly pretty day,  and we managed an acceptable pace for my first outside workout, especially w/out the clip in pedals, so I should probably retract the whole "death march" bit.

• I have discovered the source of childhood obesity in America. It's Kimball Farms ice cream. Their kiddie size is...a pint. I'm not kidding. You would have to see their banana split to believe it. We both got kiddies and couldn't finish them. We, brace yourselves, THREW OUT ICE CREAM. It's a sad, sad day. Next time we resolved to get one and split it...but when I've got low blood sugar and ice cream within view I'm not necessarily at my most cooperative, or patient, so we'll see how that goes.

Yuppie Sausage Casings

I can't believe this, but I'm contemplating buying an $80 pair of tights. Like, $80 for probably two square yards of spandex. $40 per yard. The CW-X line styles itself as "equipment," not "apparel," because spending $80 on tights is crazy, but spending $80 on equipment which acts as an "exoskeleton, supporting and aligning muscles, improving movement efficiency, and reducing shock" makes a lot of sense. They also brew coffee and walk the dog. Girls, there's even more for us, but it would be uncouth to bring it up here.

Being the sports gadget freak I am, a poor gadget freak, I decided this bit of novelty was best left unexplored when they came out a couple of years ago. But, as with all such toys, my willpower is weak. I run with a friend every Thursday, and I accidentally brought my spinning gear instead of running clothes. Running in bike shorts and a t-shirt seemed ill-advised given the temps, so I took the extra pair of tights offered. I figured I'd be tired since it's a high volume week so far, but I swear to god I felt like sprinting at the end of the six miles.

There's also the added fun of the criss-cross pattern making one feel very hardcore. "Look at this high-tech spandex webbing pattern supporting my buttocks! So high! So tight! I AM A RUNNING GOD."

Pay No Attention to That Turkey Baster

Tom Brady is a god. I don't normally get crushes on strangers. I never went through a boy band phase. When my god-sister asked for a NKOTB bedroom for her birthday I scoffed. After she received said bedroom, and the bedding + curtains + wallpaper + posters over wallpaper combination burned my retinas and scarred my budding little hipster soul, I swore that I would never put up a poster of a celebrity, especially if I was ever going to allow another person into my room.

Well, I just want to let it be publicly known that I would have 10,000 of Tom Brady's babies. I would plaster my room with pictures him. I would get the Tom Brady version of my god-sister's bedroom, and sleep in it wearing a TB nightshirt. I would even use him as a screensaver.

If you're reading this Tom, please disregard the 10,000 babies comment - you don't have to be afraid of sex with me. I promise I'm on birth control and won't steal your sperm in order to grow my own little 50%-genetically-perfect army.

What's a Leg Between Friends?

My lastest gift from the soccer gods:

Some people might say soccer doesn't seem to be agreeing with me, but I don't think that's true. I think it's more a case of soccer deeply hating me, and either I'll win it over with my skillz or it will kill me. Place your bets!

Take That, Old Man

An open letter to John Madden from Ethan Albright, the worst rated player in Madden '07.

It’s also pretty wonderful that my awareness rating was 59. You make it sound like I wake up in the morning, helplessly shit and piss myself, then lose three of my teeth before I discover that I am trying to eat a rock for breakfast. Fuck, John, I understand you saying that I am slow and lacking athleticism, but a rating like this pretty much labels me as retarded. Rod “He Hate Me” Smart has a 52 in this category. Electronic Arts is saying that seven rating points separate me and the breathing embodiment of the perfect oxymoron. Rod Smart struggled to arrange words in sentence form. Cave men had better hold of the English language. The only actions that separate point values of ignorance at this embarrassing level are things like using your own toothbrush to wipe your ass. I basically edged out Rod by my lack of shit teeth. If I take a night school class, could you bump me up to a 60?

That's just an excerpt.

Gooooooooooal

In honor of the world cup - freestyle and skillz. It reminds me of breakdancing. And for those who are worried about missing a goal, fret no longer.