I'll Take "What The Hell Have You Been Smoking?" For $800, Alex!

Cleaning pig
Helper monkey
Party gorilla
Attack squirrel*
* All things I have actually heard of before.

"What are pets that would be FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!?"

Lost

There is some crazy, fucked-up shit going on right now and I have no idea what to do about it. I seriously have no idea what's going on. What the fuck, Life?

Fair Warning...

Just for the record, anyone who calls me a "freak-show" and expects me to be insulted by it obviously has no idea who they're dealing with...but good try, @1Kelly_Anne. Better luck next time.

I ♥ Twitter wars!

"I'm So Gay Proud Of Us!"

Today I almost ran the Front Runners 5-mile Pride Run in Central Park. Sadly, around the 2-mile mark my toe went totally (HA!) out-of-whack and I had to be transported to the finish line in the world's slowest ambulance. I'd rather not reflect on that. So let's focus on some interesting musical tidbits instead:

* Artist of the first song to pop up on my iPod as the race began: Lady GaGa (see this previous post to understand why this is significant)

* In the "Prime Example Of Irony" category, song playing during the first uphill stretch of the course: Jane's Addiction — "Coming Down The Mountain"

* Rounding out the "Prime Example Of Irony" category, song playing right around the time my toe died out: Nancy Sinatra — "These Boots Are Made For Walking"

* More GaGa: One of the raffle winners announced was named Alejandro. Everyone immediately started singing. :)

And despite the fact that I now need to have my toe X-rayed and may not be able to run again for a while, it was still totally (HA!) worth it because I totally (HA!) got to talk to Daniel Vosovic at the starting line and pretended I didn't know who he was, even though I recognized his tattoo and he was wearing ostrich feathers. ♥

I Survived Glam Nation...Barely

I am way too exhausted to write up a full report right now, but I thought I'd at least show you what I looked like:

Glam Nation Transformation!

Lighten Up, It's Just Fashion!

T minus 44 hours, 45 minutes to GLAM-STRAVAGANZA! A small taste of what's to come:

Totally appropriate style of dress for a 36-year-old to be seen in public, no...?

Let The Sun Shine In

Yesterday, I saw the Broadway show Hair. And today, you get this special treat:

I danced on Broadway with the Hair eParty!

I'm the one at 1:28, with the glasses and the silver bracelets, fixing her hair (appropriate, no?). I'm also the one at the end, right in the middle, jumping up and down and waving. And I'm still a little hoarse from singing. :D

P.S.: This is the 4th Broadway show I've been in. See my theater resume for details. :)

Feed Your Head

I take 3 different medications daily. However, these particular medications are not manufactured in the specific doses I've been prescribed. Thus, I take 1 white pill, 2 blue pills, and 3 pink pills every morning. Being the only-half-conscious groggy mess that I am in the mornings, I sometimes get this routine mixed up. Today I think I may have accidentally taken 5 blue pills and a Tic Tac.

And I wonder why I'm so neurotic...

Gold Mine!

I found all of these in a single book:

"Use try cocks if available."

"Leaking Tubes"

"...the straightway tapping of the Y or tee."

"Following a cold start, sweating may occur."

"float bowl"

"Inspection For Foreign Objects"

"Manholes And Other Openings"

"Use Of Flashlight For Internal Inspection."

"Check orifice before filling."

"mechanical stoker"

"torching"

"coke breeze"

"moisture loss"

"mudleg"

"nipple, push"

"Circulating Pump"

"Wet-Back Top, Oiled"

"Locomotive Firebox Boiler"

"Reset the firing cock."

"rotating hollow main shaft"

"rear bearing"

"Alternate Arrangement With Diaphragm Expansion"

"Venturi tube"

"Perform routine inspections to maintain desired level of cleanliness."

"blowoff, drain"

"connecting rod"

"log retention"

"blower"

"Drain the system in a manner and to a location that it can be discharged with safety."

"Position Of Hands On Combination Gage"

"lap joints"

"...creating a blowpipe effect."

"Backwashing may be done frequently."

"Flame Rod Type With Standing Pilot"

"Turn off the main gas cock..."

"...to hold material or other members rigidly in position."

"The valve will close tightly after popping."

"Bulging, Blistering, And Leaks"

"Optional Mounting"

"The ends of all nipples shall be reamed."

Run Like A Girl

Last Saturday I ran the women-only Mini 10K in Central Park. At first I was confused as to why it was called a "Mini" 10K — were the miles somehow magically shorter than those in a regular 10K? It turns out, as a co-worker and fellow racer described and as the "History" section of the website confirms, to be "a much stranger and sadder story": Back in the '70s, when the idea for the race came into being, it was believed that women — being the fragile and delicate treasures that we are — were physically incapable of completing a full marathon, so they substituted this special all-female 10K just for us, and since it was the '70s and mini-skirts were in style, they named it "The Mini." Knowing this backstory, I think I would have preferred if it had instead had something to do with the Mini-Cooper, or midgets. I decided to just call it "The Lady Race."

I hadn't realized prior to the run what a draw it was. During the pre-race "festivities," which I was unable to observe due to my not-at-all publicly embarrassing "NON-COMPETITIVE/12-MINUTE MILE" corral being too far away from the stage, the voice from the loudspeaker welcomed former Olympians and marathon winners from places like San Francisco and Sweden and as far away as Kenya and New Zealand. Most notably, for me, was the announced presence of Paula Radcliffe, the New York Marathon winner from 2007. Back then, this picture:

...plastered not only in the sports section, but on the front pages of newspapers everywhere, filled me with such joy that to this day I still believe it represents all that is right with the world.

As tiring as it was (who knew Central Park West had so many damn hills??), it felt great to see so many bouncing ponytails ahead of me, to pass so many boyfriends and husbands cheering for their girls on the sidelines, to be a part of this crowd of ladies of all shapes and sizes and ages and races and speeds, all of us headed for the same finish line. Corny as it sounds, it was moving — literally and figuratively. And it was also kind of fun, whenever a male jogger just out for a regular run got a little too close and crossed our path, to point and yell "Hey! Get outta here, faker!"

However, I've mentioned in my previous running post, that I have no will power when it comes to matters of endurance and physical fitness. This time around, though, I was inspired to push myself a little harder — as illustrated by this internal monologue around the 4-mile mark: "Ok, once you pass that lamp post you can walk for the next 3 songs [was listening to my iPod]...ooh, wait — 'Just A Girl' just came on! This is symbolic! You have to keep running for this one...c'mon, you can make it; you’re almost there...lip-synch — it'll help you breathe...wow, why does this seem so tough? Maybe I can walk during the instrumental break...NO, damn it! You will not walk during the instrumental break! Stop being such a wuss! — Ok, ok, I'm sorry; I’ll finish the song...sheesh..."

And fittingly for this particular race, as I came breathlessly down the home stretch, my sister spotted me from the sidelines and ran alongside me, clapping and cheering, right up to the finish line. GIRL POWER!

* * *

I've often noted that I could really do without the sideline photographers littering the courses of practically every race I've ever run. Really, who wants a picture of themselves red-faced and sweaty and in an awkward position circulating around the web, unless they're a porn star? During my first official race back in March in Prospect Park, the finish line photographer snapped this iconic shot:

[Click for full-size awesomeness]

I was seriously considering ordering the commemorative plaque.

So this time around, specifically since it was "The Lady Race," I decided every time I passed the paparazzi not to give them the finger, as was my instinct, but to do the Lady GaGa eye and blow them a kiss. And for once, I'm actually kind of looking forward to the results.

Coincidentally, on the train ride home, a cute guy got on a few stops after me, noticeably carrying a Kermit The Frog stuffed animal. Fortunately, he sat near me, so I had the opportunity to lean over and ask, "I'm sorry, but I need to know — what's with Kermit?"

"Oh," he replied a bit sheepishly, "I passed this elementary school doing a fundraiser and they were selling them, and I couldn't resist."

Heart = melting.

He added, "But now I just look like that guy who carries weird stuff around."

"Hey," I reassured him, "Lady GaGa did it! That makes you cool to me."

Man, I wish I had got his number...

* * *

Yesterday, I ran the Corporate Challenge 3.5 mile race in Central Park. And I'm pretty sure a large portion of my co-workers are now wondering how an obviously insane person ever ended up being hired by a respected company like ours. Which I suppose is warranted, since one of the HR supervisors overheard a piece of conversation in which I was involved that began thusly: "So I was stalking Adam Lambert's brother on Twitter..."

But enough about Neil...

I was feeling pretty good, considering it was my second race in twice as many days. I even managed to pass a couple of co-workers. And then at about the 2 ½ mile mark, my foot started going numb.

I don't know why this happens, but I've experienced it several times before. It doesn't occur every time I run, but there doesn't seem to be any predictability to it. When it does pop up, I usually just try to grin and bear it. Because I am obviously a retarded masochist.

So I stopped along the sidelines and shook the foot out a little and loosened my shoe laces, hoping this would solve the problem as it occasionally has before. I did this 3 more times at regular intervals — no improvement. Finally I just gave up and took off the shoe. Miraculously, feeling finally began to creep back in. They say barefoot running is supposed to be good for your joints, so I kept my sock on and ran the last half a mile with only one shoe (using much more caution than usual to avoid the piles of horseshit that dotted the course).

Made it to the end and hopped over the finish line on one foot. Can't wait to see how this picture comes out.

UPDATE: Damn it, picture results from the Mini came in this morning — no GaGa eyes. Yet I do consider these an improvement over that last masterpiece:

[Click to embiggen. P.S.: Those facial expressions are laughter, not pain.]

UPDATE AGAIN: Anyone who may have doubted my artistic ability after this post, please compare the MS Paint representation of my hair to the real-life one in the photo above. I AM A GENIUS!!!

FIERCE!

Yesterday I discovered, purely by chance, a bridal accessory store only a few blocks from my house. And as I have frequently mentioned elsewhere, I live in a predominantly black neighborhood. And as everyone well knows, there is NOTHING more outrageously fabulous than black lady church hats.

Guess where all my pocket money will be going from now on...

Artistic Vision

I feel like I've really captured the essence of fanatical desperation in this piece. And also my hair.

Behold:

[Click to embiggen]

Original image: Masterpiece

UPDATE: A friend on Twitter asked why I was wearing a dress, but he was naked. My explanation is that another psycho chick must have torn his clothes off.

Oh, and just to be clear: That's Neil Lambert. Striking resemblance, no...?

You Can Add The Prefix "Glam" To Anything And Make It Sound Fabulous/Retarded

Yesterday I came up with this analogy:

Glamberts : GlamNation :: Neilists : DamnNation

"Neilists," like "nihilists" — get it??

...ok, here:

(from merriam-webster.com)
Nihilism:
1a: a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are unfounded and that existence is senseless and useless
1b: a doctrine that denies any objective ground of truth and especially of moral truths
2: a doctrine or belief that conditions in the social organization are so bad as to make destruction desirable for its own sake independent of any constructive program or possibility

If you've ever happened to read his blog, NegativeNeil, you will understand immediately why both of these monikers are so appropriate.

"We believe in nothing, Lambert. Nothing!"

God Damn America.

Thank you, Cleveland!

Phrases Coined By Dalia B. That Would Make Great Band Names

* Cantina Vamp

* Ping-Pong Barking Tempo

* Ice Cream Hairdo

* Kitchen Sex

Thank you, Cleveland!

Go Team!!!

Ok, seriously, I can't take any more of this shit.

One of my "friends" on Facebook just posted this as his profile picture:

...next to the status:

"1st Term Failure. That's what I HOPED for and it looks like it came true!!"

Seriously?

SERIOUSLY?!?

Gee, dude, that's great that you're happy about an ecological disaster! So psyched that you proved your point!!!

I mean, come on. I thought Bush was a Category 5 dickwad, but I never thought — nevertheless DECLARED IN A PUBLIC FORUM — "Yes! The Ninth Ward is devastated! WOOHOO!!! W. FUCKED UP!!!"

Are people really this fucking obtuse? Are scientists working on a cure for this sort of stupidity yet?

UPDATE: This exchange just occurred a few comments down:

"Real American": And...how long we going to blame Bush. I've heard people trying to blame Bush for this oil disaster. It's a typical Obama supporter cop out....just blame Bush. Face it, out fearless leader is clueless and certainly has not delivered on his promises. Back door meetings, a NON-TRANSPARENT GOVERNMENT, debt beyond belief, a healthcare system that is sure to tank....shall I go on?????

Rebecca Godan: I'm not blaming Bush for the oil spill. That's just as ignorant an opinion as saying Obama's the one responsible for a national debt that's been growing out of control since the Reagan administration. And I'm not saying Obama's perfect. I'm saying his mishandling of the oil spill is equivalent to Bush's mishandling of Katrina. Don't pretend "your side" was never inept and ineffectual in the face of disaster. I mean, I thought Bush was a Category 5 dickwad, but I never thought "Yes! The Ninth Ward is devastated! So glad W. fucked up!" That attitude doesn't solve shit.

BeccaGo: Bravely fighting the losing battle...

UPDATE 2: And for those of you interested in torturing yourselves, here's the whole damn transcript:
File Under: Why Do I Bother?

Copy Editors Do It With Style...Guides

I'm lazy today, so here's another installment of "Even At Work, My Mind Is Perpetually In The Gutter":

"Category 'C' Butt Joints"

"D-400: Typical Crack Types"

"NC-3324: Principal Dimensions of Heads"

"The Babcock & Wilcox Co."

"Fig. KD-350: Types of Joints Permitted"

"NB-3360: Joints of Unequal Thickness"

"NUM-II-8215: Butt-Welding Of Sections of Unequal Thickness"

"NUM-G-700: Three-Way Switches"

"This task includes the periodic sampling of gas to verify concentration of odorant by use of instrumentation or verification of presence of odor by sniff test."

"An appropriate representation of each member shall be used to describe all components that contribute significantly to the stiffness."

"The analysis procedure shall use the jib and hoist in as many different positions as necessary."

I Feel Pretty

Woman in elevator, Friday afternoon: "I love your hair! It's so pretty!"

Old guy in front of bodega, Saturday night: "Hello, pretty lady!"

Massage therapist, Sunday morning: "How can you not have a boyfriend? You're so pretty!"

You know, if they keep this up, I'm gonna start to believe it...