Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Ho, Ho, Holy Hell... Something From the Chimney Fell...

It is a special day, indeed, when something plummets from the sky down the chimney... and the calendar claims to be October.
So, you can imagine the minor coronary embolism I experienced when, as I was minding my own business at the ol' computadora, my fire place begins making a sound that could only be described as the noise a rat would make if you chucked it down an air shaft. Both dogs leapt from their bed and barked like crazy and I swung around so fast in my chair, you would think I had heard someone announce that they were giving away free ice cream sundaes. All eyes were on the mesh gate enclosing the front of the fireplace.
Not quite sure how to take this, I mentioned the incident to some guildies who helpfully suggested that it could be merely a bird.... or Jebus. Either way, it would probably be safe to have a looksee. The sight was particularly horrifying, but only because the inside of my fireplace had become a massive spider and insect condo decorated with dirt and cobwebs from years of unuse. It was pretty disgusting.
But the heavenly treasure that had fallen from the sky was pretty baffling.
It seems that I am now the proud owner of a plastic bag with a magnet in it.
Not like a ziplock, but one of those little plastic pouches that contain screws or tiny allen wrenches if you were to, say, buy a desk to put together. The magnet was smallish and round. I suppose it could be radioactive... I still haven't touched it.
I did, however, take a picture.

Seriously, though. I hope come Christmas time, ol' St. Nick takes a closer look at my wishlist, because a bag o' magnet was not on it.

And the Boobies Have It.

There it is folks. People searching for this image is the cause of 99.99999994% of the hits I get on this blog. It must be highly disappointing as the image has actually been removed... from the original site that I callously stole it from, and consequently from the blog entry that, in fact, claimed the hit count. Sorry pervs. Best of luck in your quest for boobies, be it artisticly inclined, or otherwise.

Running on... well.... caffeine, mostly...

Some days I think to myself that I would like to run a marathon. Now, I'm not COMPLETELY dillusional in that I know a 5K is probably the outer limits of anything I could hope to accomplish without some major surgery, performance enhancing drugs, or the life of a beloved family member riding on its completion. But I would love to get involved with charities and do some good for the world as well as for my heart-- which I have come to envision as a cartoon sitting on a lounge chair with a beer hat and a bag of cheetos. So I toss the idea around. I think about training. Whether I'll ever actually do it... I don't know. It doesn't look good. In my search for a book called something to the tune of: "So, You Think Your Fat Ass Can Run a Marathon?" I found this poem (which I have altered ever so slightly):

Ode to Running
By: Dawn Dais (I think)

What's the point of running?
What reason could there be?
Running twenty-six miles
Makes no sense to me.

We have planes, trains, and automobiles,
Helicopters, scooters, and boats.
And if you really, really, need to
You could even ride a goat.

With all these options to move you
Why would you want to run?
Compared to runing for hours
Riding a goat sounds like much more fun.

Running makes you sweaty
And tired and cranky and sore,
And running around in circles
Can be really quite a bore.

But the worst part of running,
What drives me out of my mind,
Are the Chipper Happy Runers
Who are Chipper and Happy all the time.

They get up at 7am
To run too many miles
And whethere it's Mile 1, 5, or 10,
They still have that Chipper, Happy, smile.

I fear that I'm outnumbered,
And they're trying to wear me down,
They're trying to make me chipper
But all I can do is frown.

But I'll be nice to the Chipper People
And I'll tolerate their smiles,
Since they have so much friggin' energy
Maybe I can ride on their backs for awhile.

If I DO ever run a marathon, Half-marathon, 5-K, or hell, participate in the Special Olympics. I will be writing that book.

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