"...In the end, people either have excuses or experiences; reasons or results; buts or
brilliance. They either have what they wanted or they have a detailed list of all the rational reasons why not."

~ Anonymous
(taken from Matt Erbele's, It Takes Time to Get Good)

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Leaving Kelseyville: NOT a Bogg's Mtn 50k Race Report

Alternative Title: My brief, expensive vacation in ShitHolio, CA.


Short version:

I am hurting, I did not really want to run, and I was a DNS for Bogg's Mtn 50k.

More typical RBR verison:

I do not really write much about the aches and pains of running. I am 41, I did not start running (or doing anything active AT ALL) until I was 35, and, as you can gather from the title of this blog, I am NOT your typical runner's build

Translation: Trucking this much ass around can be a little tough on the joints. Shit is going to hurt. That is just a fact.

The reality is that 99% of the time, if I run long enough, whatever pain I have eventually goes away, changes location, or does not really bother me that much anymore. However, last week my hip started to hurt even when I was not running and then during a 12 mile run it not only never got better, it got worse. As a matter of fact, after the Tarantula Run is was downright painful and made it difficult to move around at all for the rest of the weekend. All week I knew that running 31 miles was probably not a good idea.

Originally hubby and Lucy (my dog) were supposed to come with me. He had told me a the week before that he did not want to go, but I had already booked a room that was a little farther from the race start than I wanted because it was an affordable place that took dogs.

Enter my motel in Kelseyville.

The driveway to the motel. Odd, that this is not the view they chose for the website picture.

Despite the fact that a small language barrier had the gal in the office repeatedly telling me that 'Mr. Ritav' (not my name) was not coming and had canceled, I finally got checked in. Lucky me, I was in the room adjacent to the more "long term" residents of the motel.

Welcome to Clear Lake, the methamphetamine capital of California, where shirts and teeth are optional!

Friday evening was spent trying to find somewhere to eat (Let's just say that Kelseyville has been hit hard by the economic downturn.), then locking myself in my room and flipping channels to find something that was not Halloween oriented on TV. I was already shacked up with the cast of The Night of the Living Dead I did not need anymore nightmare inducing material.

Saturday morning I got up and was limping around the room getting ready, deciding how much Ibuprofen I would need to get though 31 miles, and it hit me,

"This is stupid. I am being stupid. Do I want to run this race or do I want to be able to run, period?"

Loading up on anti-inflammatories, and risking making my hip significantly worse, to run a long distance race that I did not even really want to run, just so I did not have to tell people that I did not run it? That was supremely stupid.

And really? I. Did. Not. Want. To. Run.

Usually, even if I am nervous/ambivalent about a race, I can visualize running it and being on the course for as long as it takes, enjoying the views and the people. Saturday morning the thought of driving to the venue and running 50k was overwhelming. Even dropping to the 25k did not appeal to me. I had paid for the race fee, paid for two nights in this Piss-in-the-sink Motel, and then spent 3 and half hours driving up here, but come race day morning it was clear, I was hurting and the 50k was not going to happen today.

I would love to say that I calmly accepted this fact like a mature adult and made alternate plans for the day since I was in a truly beautiful area, but I did not. I cried like a baby and called my hubby. He listened to me, and then said "Come home now. I want you to come home."

I was so relieved. I know, you are thinking. "You could not make that call on your own? You are a grown, independent woman, and you needed your husband to tell you what to do?"

Yes. At that moment, yes, I did.

And with that, I packed my shit and left.

On the drive home, I was feeling pretty bad about things. Mostly feeling like a loser and that this was the beginning of the end of my running. My internal dialogue was, "You will quit. You always quit. You might as well, you are slow and fat and suck at this anyway...."

Wah. Wah. Wah.

Mid pity party, I see a dog jogging along the center median of the freeway. I hit my brakes and pulled over in the median.

I get out of the car and see that he is crossing the freeway, but then he sees me and starts to head back toward me.

Oh fuck, no!

Cars were coming. I was watching, helpless as he crossed, trying to get him to run faster. I see a white Subaru coming and clearly hitting his brakes, but I am certain he can not stop in time. I scream and cover my eyes.

Suddenly he was there, cowering next to me. Somehow, the guy did not hit the dog, nor did he cause a wreck. He did some great driving to miss him. Thank you, white Subaru Guy, whoever you are!

I grabbed the dog's collar and literally threw him in the back seat of my car, jumping in after him and slamming the door as if the terror could be locked outside. We sat there, both panting, and staring at each other, like "Holy fuck, that was close!"

I was still trying to regain my composure, when the dog found the muffin I had bought for breakfast. He wolfed it down in one snake-like swallow and then kissed my face, his stubby little tail wagging away.

You have to respect how dogs just move on from shit. We can learn a lot from dogs.

He was wearing a collar with a Rabies tag, so I called the vet, found out the dog's name was Stanley, and got Stanley's owner's information.

(Bitchy Aside: get a name tag for your dog with your name, address, and phone number on it, so people can get your dog back to you if they are found. "My dog NEVER gets out" Yeah. I have been picking up stray and lost dogs for 20 years. Everyone says that. Had this happened when the vet was closed, Stanley's owners would have been driving 3 hours south to get him. I am just saying.)

Stanley, clearly liking the freeway better from this side of the car.

Watching Stanley jump on his owner in joy and run around with his, decidedly smarter, dog buddy (the one that did not follow him on his adventure), I was suddenly not feeling so bad about not running Bogg's.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Oh, I can win a race. If the stakes are high enough.

I held the door for a pleasant woman that I have seen several mornings at the gym. She is a treadmill runner too, so we have smiled at each other, but have never been interested enough to actually take out our headphones and say 'hi'.

I held the door for her and then entered right behind her. She chatted up the hot, 20 something year old gym attendant (To be clear, this is "hot" for 4 in the morning. I imagine I would find him less hot after coffee consumption and when he is not surrounded by the > 60 yo early bird gym set, but he looks pretty good in that light, is all I am saying.) as he scanned her gym card. He scanned my card next and I politely waited for her to start moving toward the exercise room.

Then I saw it.

The only 2 open treadmills in the green zone. I call it the green zone because, for some reason, that is only apparent to the owners of 24 Hour Fitness, it must be 342 degrees at any given time in the gym, and the green zone is where the one pitiful AC vent is located. Therefore, if you prefer to run with your core body temperature at less than 342 degrees, you have to use one the treadmills or ellipticals in the green zone only. It is a 5000 sq. foot gym and at 4 in the morning there are at most 10 people there, yet we are all clustered in the green zone. I can only imagine what a little slice of hell that gym is at 5 pm.


The green zone only has 5 treadmills, one of which is the treadmill that is ALWAYS occupied by the Crypt Keeper, who is no less than 170 years old and freakishly tan. He cranks the incline on the treadmill to its maximum and pounds out the miles like he is running from the Grim Reaper himself. No one wants to run next to the Crypt Keeper. 1. because he makes you look like a pussy with your 0% incline running and 2. if you are female, he wants to talk to you, saying things that always start off with "He He If only I were 30 years younger...."

Ick. Try 100 years younger, Creepmaster.


So we don't really count the one next to him "open" per say. There only 3 other treadmills that are considered truly usable in the green zone and one of them was taken. Leaving the center treadmill and the one that was parked right in front of a full length mirror.

Now, I do not know about you ladies, but I like to hold on to the delusion that when I run I am smooth and graceful like a gazelle, bouncing playfully on the treadmill belt, light as a feather, with my ponytail swinging easily which each stride, a light sheen of sweat giving my face an angelic glow, teeth gleaming as I smile at my effortless pace.

Ahhhh. Take a moment as I savor that image.

Having a full length mirror in front of you means that I must either crane my neck to the side to avoid my own image, or face the godawful truth of my lumbering rhinoceros gait pounding along, causing the machine to shake wildly and threatening collapse at any moment, with my 4 am, 41 year old face sagging at each stride, red, puffy, and my mouth twisted in grimace as I gasp for air.

Ummm...Yeah. I sooo do not want that treadmill.

And I am not one to cast stones, but Dollface in front of me, was no gazelle either, if you catch my drift.

So it was on. One of us was going to get the center treadmill and one was going be forced to face their own running truth at 4 in the morning.

I pull along side of her as the path widens, she knows what I am doing and she picks up the pace. I follow suit and push it more. She turns and smiles a strained smile at me, looking for mercy? Maybe weakness? Tough cookies, sweetheart, all I have for you is an ass kicking and bubblegum, and I am fresh out of bubblegum!

I pull ahead. I can taste victory. 10 more strides and I can throw my towel over the computer which is the universal gym sign for 'taken.'

Gah! The cleaning guy steps in front of me, allowing her to pass me. She smirks as she takes the lead.

Only 3 more strides. Dear God, Crypt Keeper or Rhinoceros! RBR, you must push through. Our legs are hustling as fast as we can without looking like we are racing each other. She is staying just ahead of me.

Then it happened. All athletes have to look for that one moment when the race can be theirs, Perky Polly on the mat next to us, pops up from her exercise ball, "Janice! Hey! How are you?"

I step around her as she slows to face Perky and throw my towel over the screen of the center treadmill. Bet you wish you were an anti-social, out cast like me now, dontcha, Dollface!

Smugly I hop on the treadmill and begin my run. I hear the treadmill behind me start up.

"Good morning, Janice. He he. If only I were 30 years younger...."

Monday, October 25, 2010

Race Report: Tarantula Run - Trail Half Marathon October 23, 2010

The real reason I ran this race

Cutest logo, EVER!

Dirty Details

Total Distance: 12.2 miles (that will make the next line of this a little shittier to type)

Total Time: 2:45:19 (errr.. yeah, so that would NOT be a PR. Even on a course that was short by almost a mile)

Number of gopher holes Ron fell in: 1 (This was not even during the race. It was before we even started running. Made me snort with laughter)

Pre Race

Ron and I decided to run this together after he unabashedly dropped my ass at the start line of not one, but two prior races. Then Katie called me this week and said that she was going to volunteer and wanted to know if I wanted to carpool.

Ummm, ... hells yeah!

Katie, Cutest Volunteer of 2010

The Tarantula Run is put on by the Contra Costa Water District (CCWD) and the employees of the water district make up the vast majority of the volunteers. This is the 5th annual race and I will tell you it is a well run, down home, SUPER friendly race. It runs in the open space of the Los Vaqueros Reservoir and Watershed. It was a beautiful, but challenging course.

Run profile. I have my own, but this one is too damn cute! Whoever does the graphics for CCWD is a freakin' genius!

Trail Map for the Run. Kudos again to the graphic artist!

RBR Obligatory Race dog photo. So cute!


There was an arch for the start, but for some reason that we were not privy to, we did not start there. *shrugs* The field was small. I would guess there were less than 40 runners in the half marathon. I looked around and saw that there would be a distinct possibility that I would be last. (I know, "You need a crystal ball for that prediction, Captain Obvious?" )

Pretty pond along the trail

The run was predominately along cattle roads and we had been warned that we may encounter sheep or cows along the run. I loves me some sheeps and cows, but we did not see one stinkin' cow or sheep. Another thing we did not see one of today at the Tarantula run were tarantulas.

The only tarantulas I would see today. I am not a spider fan, but it was a tad disappointing since one of my objectives of this race was to skeeve out Lindsay. (Note: Not my calves. Taken and posted completely without permission. My bad)

I will bring back this classic, from the Mt. Diablo 1/2 with JoLynn. I know she will probably give me another "forget you!" for this picture. Such a potty mouth that Lindsay.

Soon we hit the 3 mile mark and climbed the 1000 ft dam.

Ron on the big climb being as supportive as the day is long. Which, interestingly enough, it how long it took me to climb that fucking dam.

See that face? I know it looks like a 'What the fuck is wrong with you? Get moving!' face, but he really wanted to be on the trail with me as long as possible. At least that is what I kept telling myself.

Four miles in, at the top of the dam, I decided Ron needed the full RBR experience (shut up, G) and we took some true badass runner style photos.

The view was lovely. Well, the part that is not eclipsed by my huge ass. *sigh*
Rawr! Sorry ladies, he is taken!

Let's just say our conversations and humor style are "not for everyone" but we laughed our way through the miles.

Ron is having his gait analyzed next week. Should be an interesting report. :)

After 2 hours and 45 minutes of hilarity, we finished the run laughing, smiling, and feeling strong.

The Finish

Katie was there at the finish line to cheer us in. She had braved the rain and her own cold to come out and help with race and cheer us on. Such a doll, that one! We had a great ride up and back and I always enjoy when we get to spend time together.

Katie and RBR post race

I had a great time. Ron is hilarious and fun and every time I see him he makes me laugh until my sides hurt. Thanks, man for a great run.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

I caught the blahs

You know those days, when each day you wake up and tell yourself (and everyone unfortunate enough to have to listen your whiny ass), 'I think I am getting sick'?

And then you never actually get sick? You were just pissing and moaning for no reason, and you really have an acute case of the winter is coming, the days are getting shorter, your ass is getting wider blahs?

Yeah, me too.

I have those.

In spades.

I have decided that I am going to "snap out of it!" That is what everyone told me to do when I suffered through years of chronic depression, it must be possible!

Therefore, I am going to act as if I am leaving for Hawaii next week! (ok, I am really leaving in 2 months, but if I could convince myself last winter that my eating 40 donuts a day would cure my husband's cancer, I am pretty sure I can make my dumb ass believe something like a pushed up travel date.)

This new leaf started yesterday with the incessant singing of the "Baby Shampoo" song.

Like all traditions(and other family specific shit that no one finds funny, but we all feel compelled to share with people outside of our families anyway) no one remembers how it started, but I call those little travel shampoos, "baby shampoos." Several days before our first ever big vacation (i.e. our honeymoon) I was singing a made up song about the acquisition of baby shampoos while dancing throughout the house shaking said baby shampoos.

Hubby came in from the garage mid song, and the performance made him laugh so hard he lost all bad ass composure (this is a rarity in the RBR household, and is my Holy Grail, if you will)

One notable line in the Baby Shampoo song is "When you are sad and buh-luuuuuuue, you got to get you some Baby Shampoooooooo!"

(I called hubby to ask him what tune the Baby Shampoo song was sung to, and he said laughed and said, "You made that shit up. It is a Stacey Original." I will tell you it makes the next door neighbor's dogs howl and attracts tom cats to the front yard.)

I will spare you the rest of the lyrics. The are all inane and intended to be sung way off key.

Other RBR Original's include gems like:

The Cat Snack Song (sung at bedtime to get the cats rounded up. I am a HIT with the felines!)

What's Goosehead got to do with it? (Lucy, my dog, nickname is Goosehead. Again, no one remembers why)


It is Time Hortonator (another pet nickname for our cat Horton, and is sung when Horton protests his bedtime and the Cat Snack song fails to illicit the 'rounding up' response )

Horton, aka "The Fatonator," "Hortonator," "The Great Slim Boney", and occasionally when he is less than the perfect child, "You Fat Fucker"

How can I feel bad? I got me some Baby Shampoos!

Running Stuff

I am running the Tarantula Run Trail 1/2 marathon on Saturday with Ron (mostly to skeeve Lindsay out. Not sure which will be worse the spiders or Ron :) ) So that should be fun.

Ok, enough weirdness, Queen Random Shit, out!

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Race Report: Golden Hills Trail Marathon - October 9, 2010

Alternative Title: Why RBR is one lucky S.O.B


Total Distance: 26.65 miles (another very slight navigational mishap...)

Total Time: 7:12:45 (sounds awful, but I am REALLY happy with this)

Total Climb: 7,719 ft (according to USGS analysis of GPS data which I trust WAY more than Avocet Altimeter data for total climb, which they used to get the reported 5,000 ft of climb. I could go on a big, long winded diatribe about this but, I won't.... today, anyway)

Elevation Profile:

If it looks hard to you, you are right. If it looks like it is not that bad, you are wrong. 'Nuff said.


JoLynn suggested this race to me when we were doing the Mt. Diablo 1/2 a couple of weekends ago. She usually runs it, but she had surgery a week ago and has not even been cleared to drive a car yet, so she was not going to be able to run it this year. I was skeptical about running it myself because I had seen the elevation profile and knew it was a really tough marathon course.

But then I figured, there is a 50 miler going on at the same time, meaning there was essentially no time cut off for the marathon, so, what the hell, I registered.

Plus it had a cool logo

Artsy and pretty, huh? Sadly, this will be the source of my one and only bitch about this race. You will have to read on for that.

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #1-Last week I was asked to introduce one of my favorite students for the Homecoming Court (Umm... I mean 'one of my students'. We teachers do not have favorites. We love all of our students equally. Yes ma'am, even your insolent, asshole child that tells me every fucking day how boring I and my class are.)

My 'I don't have a time cut off, just trot along and enjoy the course' marathon just turned into a 'Holy shit, if I am not done by 8 and a half hours I will have to show up for Homecoming "fresh" from a trail marathon and if I do not finish by 9 hours I will miss the goddamn thing altogether' marathon.

Anyone that reads my race reports knows that this was a very legitimate concern on my part. I played it safe and got a 'back up teacher' at the ready in case something went wrong (It was my Run Buddy, because she is AWESOME and this student loves her as well.) but, I told the student that I would do my very, very best to be done in time. His response, "Well, how long does a marathon take, like 3-4 hours? My mom ran Big Sur in 5 hours and she was 12 weeks pregnant with me."

Gotta love teenagers.


The Race

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #2 At the start, I was fortunate enough to get to meet some local runners: Theresa (ok, technically, I had met Theresa before, but never really chatted much with her), Jin, and Sharon. They were all tiny, little bird people that I was certain I would not see after the race began, but I was wrong.

I saw them at the finish.

They had been done for quite some time at that point.

Fucking, tiny ass bird people.


They were super sweet and Jin and Sharon are with the local chapter of "Moms in Motion", a running/biking/triathlon group which, in my opinion, should change their name to "Fast as Hell Moms that Kick Your Ass in Races, all the while Smiling and Chatting and Barely Breaking a Fucking Sweat", but apparently that would not fit on the t-shirt.

As you can see from the profile the course starts off with a 4 mile, almost 2000 ft climb. I knew I would end up hiking a lot of it and I hiked/ran to warm up my shins since they have been giving me some grief lately and it takes anywhere from 2-4 miles for me to stop swearing at them... I mean, for them to warm up and stop hurting.

At mile about mile 2 I stopped to take a picture of the beautiful vistas and a gal offered to take a picture of me with the view.

RBR and the view of the East Bay in Berkeley

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #3 Her name is Melissa and we started to chat it up. She was from this area and was very familiar with the trails we would be running. The course was a point to point that ran through 4 major East Bay Parks. We started with the standard "running resume" type chat where you compare races you have done, ranked by cuteness of t-shirt (what? That is not how you guys do the "running resume" talk?)

Pretty view, from I am not sure where, I was working pretty hard.

It was not long before I realized that she is a very experienced trail runner, faster and fitter than me, and quite possibly my ticket to getting to homecoming on time. I decided if I could, I would try to run on her coattails until at least the 13.1 mile mark and then I would most likely be able to finish in 8 hours. I was pretty sure I could not hang any longer than that.

I know, that sounds scheming and selfish. But wait, it gets worse. I also decided to not tell her my plan in case she was unsure about running that far with my annoying ass. She was stuck with me now!

Melissa owing the trail and lookin' sassy!

Plus she knew EVERYONE. The marathon course ran from the 50 mile course turn around to the finish. So we saw all of the 50 milers as they were heading out. I swear 5 minutes would go go by without someone shouting "Melissa!" and giving her a hug. Running into an aid station with her was like being a roadie for a Rock Star.

You will note that the pictures stop after the 4 mile climb because they would all look like this:

Melissa set the pace and I hung on for dear life.

I think my end of the conversation for most of the day was:

*gasp/cough/sputter* uh huh.

*gasp/cough/sputter* That's cool.

She had tons of great advice for me in my training for my first 50 miler.

*gasp/cough/sputter* uh huh.

*gasp/cough/sputter* That's cool.

She had just gotten engaged

*gasp/cough/sputter* uh huh.

*gasp/cough/sputter* That's cool.

...and so on, for 25 miles. Well, that is not totally true, there was some pissing and moaning about the trail markings getting erased and going up, then down, then back up, the French Trail. (see that nasty little spike at about mile 17, that is the French trail. We only did the up and back for about half of it, before re-climbing it, but still unpleasant)

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #4 At *mumble mumble* miles (amazing how I can not remember anything about this run. I guess I was working hard) we saw Cynthia heading out. I had met her at Rio del Lago and we had chatted earlier this week about this race. She was getting over a cold. She looked great, so I hoped she was feeling better. I was pretty stoked to see her and gave her a hug. She was wearing an ADORABLE run skirt outfit. Damn, I wish I could have snapped a picture, but Melissa was moving quick and I did not want to get dropped. I hope you had a great race, girl!

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #5 The trail was beautiful and ever changing. We ran through everything from open fire roads with views of the entire East Bay, to spongy, fern lined redwood trails, to rocky, technical single track etched into the side of the mountain. It was a stunning course and even though it was a challenging run the miles flew by (that, obviously, is a figurative, not a literal, statement)

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #6 At mile 17 we were getting passed by the leading age groupers for the 50 mile race (they were at mile 41). One guy is running through the cattle gate and he turns to face us and it is Don (Running and Rambling)!!

This is the man that started it all for me. Now, this is going to sound creepy, even for me, but Don is my first ultrarunning crush. He was training for Western States in 2008 (the one that was canceled due to the California wildfires Link to his Western States 2009 Report it is a GREAT read. Funny, informative, and really gives you a voyeuristic window into 100 milers)

I had started reading his blog because he is a triathlete, a great writer, funny as all get out, and as it turns out, a hell of a nice guy. Then he started running ultras and I was mesmerized. I had heard of these things, but he was the first "real" person (translation: person that can have a life, talk about something other than running, AND be an ultrarunner. A Damn fast one at that) Anyhoo... he was the first real person that did such things.

I know, I am gushing again. I will stop.

Back to the run...

Melissa kept me going by telling me that when we hit Lake Chabot the climbing and punishing downhills would stop.

The Promised Land - Lake Chabot. I almost cried at the sight of it and because I had to run faster to catch up with Melissa when I stopped to take this shot.

The Finish

Heading into the finish, I was actually pretty proud of how hard I ran this and that I was able to keep up with a clearly stronger runner for 24 miles.

Melissa and I at the finish. I was worried that I would not be able to finish in 8 hours, yet she got me across the line in 7:12:45.

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #7 I was feeling really good and we came in running strong. The first thing I heard as we emerged from the trail and entered the finish chute was Jo Lynn yelling my name and I turned to see her cheering and smiling from her crutches.

She was not even cleared to drive yet and she came out to cheer me in. I mean, seriously? How did I luck out with such awesome friends? Even if she is too damn gorgeous for me to be taking this close up of a picture with.

Jo Lynn's high school buddy, Lori (or is Laurie?) was there. We met at the Nitro 1/2 and it was great to see her again. She was whining about not being hot enough to run with me (I am the hot girl magnet of running) with her gorgeous red hair and legs up to her neck, I am certain I will lose sleep pitying her. *eyeroll*

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #8 I even finished early enough that there was real food left. No watermelon rinds for this girl

shhh, I am aware there was a 50 miler still going on. Just give me this one.

It was a great race and I am really glad I did it. It was well organized, there were well stocked aide stations, great volunteers and a simply gorgeous course. The food after the race was to die for. Ok, mostly the cake and cookies, but the burger was pretty good.

Evidence of RBR's Lucky S.O.B-ness #9 I made it to Homecoming. I even had time for a shower.

Two hours post marathon. I am even wearing heels!

Alright, it was not all sunshine and roses and this IS Run Bitch Run, so here are the only two things that were not so great:

WARNING: Boys, avert your eyes. This is an female over-sharing moment.

Ok, I warned you.

At about mile 12, I started my period. With a fucking vengeance. Fortunately, there was a park bathroom within a mile for homemade maxi-pad application and climbing causes enough pain that it helped with the cramps. And let's just say, black spandex is good for more than just detracting attention from your ass. Unpleasant, to say the least, and a first for me during a race.

Ok, boys can come back...

At the end we got a bag with our finishers shirt. Remember the pretty, artsy logo? The one that was on the volunteers' hats and the aprons of the volunteers cooking the food? That logo?

It was completely absent from the large, unisex, butt ugly shirt I received

That is it. Nothing on the back. Nothing else on the front. Four orange words and 2010. It looks bluish. It is not. It is maximally unflattering gray. Oh, and we got a "Hey, I went to the Prom in 1982!" wineglass. Whoopie.

All in all...

I met some great people. Visited with some old friends. I even kind of "raced" this one, finishing almost an hour faster than I had hoped for, and came in feeling great. I am certainly one lucky S.O.B.

Monday, October 4, 2010

You know you are tired when....

1. Even though you enter the same alarm code into the same key pad every goddamn day to get into your classroom, you stare blankly at the damn thing having become so exhausted that you can not begin to remember how to operate it.

Lots of condescending emails throughout the day about how to use your alarm code and how you should not arrive before 5 am if you are too fucking stupid to operate the alarm

2. Your teenage students suddenly become HILARIOUS. I mean, laughing so hard you are crying, with snot pouring out your nose level HILARIOUS.

"Ummm... are you ok, Ms. R? Should we call the office?"

3. The janitor finds you at 4 pm on Friday afternoon, with your head down on the desk, eyes wide open, yet oddly unresponsive.

"Ummm... are you ok, Ms. R? Should I call the office?"

4. You decide at 3 am to Google people from high school that you would not cross the street to piss on if they were on fire. Yes, this includes my ex-boyfriend. They are all doing AWESOME, by the way.

Super. That is exactly what I was hoping.

5. A burned out light bulb makes you try to choke the lamp and call it names that would make a Hell's Angel blush.

No, SQ, I do not think a lamp can really be a c#*k$ucker. I am just saying...
(you know it is bad when I use symbols)

6. The thought of purchasing a new lamp shade (see #5) is too overwhelming, so you throw out the lamp and sit in the dark.

"Ummm... honey, what happened to the lamp?"

"It broke."

7. You become convinced that insomnia is the purgatory you deserve for your former life as a drug addict, since now you can not take medication to help you sleep.

Sorry, doll, you used up all your sleeping hours passed out. Now you get to be awake FOREVER.