I had the strangest dream - I was writing a blog

There's a few things that justify not writing in this blog for a month:

1. The most obvious would be alien abduction...such a cliche that I'm not going to talk about it.

2. Training at a level I didn't realize I could train. And this is just the leetle bebeh beginning.

3. Laziness created by #3. Let me rephrase - too tired and worn out and sore to be able to sit upright without those metal things that hold up mannequins. Draw your own conclusions.

4. Around-the-world trip for research into outdoor photography and a fulltime gig working for National Geographic. (I had to stick in a little fantasy.)

5. Practicing for my swim in the bathtub warm and clear waters of Lanzarote. (I think I spelled that wrong so that, obviously, is false.)

Going back to the couch to eat meal #8b.

A little freelance writer humor

Two-wheeled evil staredown

My bicycles are giving me the Hairy Eyeball.

They live in the hallway. Peanut, the triathlon bike, lives against the stairs. Little Red Bicycle, the road bike, lives against the wall.

I rode Peanut for two days last week. He got hopeful. Then I got Anthrax or whatever the hell it is I've had all week. So there Peanut sits. He's even got his racing wheels still on him.

LRB sat for two days with a flat that didn't get fixed. It's a sad state of affairs.

I can feel their snubbery every time I walk by them.

But it's not my fault! They saw me with my pukey fever and my demonic chest cough! Why should I feel so bad?

Is is because nearly all of my Facebook friends are cyclists and they're always talking about how weary they are after their rides? Or taking pictures of their bikes while they're on a ride or getting ready to go on a ride and mine are just sitting there, remote control in hand and a bowl of potato chips?

Take care, my friends. For Tuesday we shall begin again.

Because I can't fit all this on my Facebook status update. . .

1. I have the gnarliest cough right now. It's a souvenier from my near-death experience involving a weird scientific experiment that combines the flu AND bronchitis simultaneously. My cough is causing the neighbors to herd their offspring indoors to avoid the Lady with The Bird Flu.

2. My arms are shaking from too much Moose Munch and too little actual food for five days.

3. I'm stressed out from playing (and failing to play correctly) Ozzy Osbourne on Guitar Hero. Not to mention the crippling carpal tunnel syndrome and over enthusiastic pick-grasping with the right hand.

4. I know I'm getting better because the igloos of strewn Kleenex (including what the cats have shredded) is really beginning to bother me.

5. I know I'm getting better because I'm actually getting tired of reading.

I *heart* emo vampires

Most Twilight readers admit to their dorkitude. And the first step to healing is admitting something. (BTW, if you're a grown up who actually reads books for adults, the following paragraphs are not for you.)

Here's my opinion(s).

The main characters? I think Bella's a drama-queen whiner with extraordinarily poor decision-making skills.

I can't keep up with Edward talking like a sophisticated 18th century kind of guy one minute then a skater dude the next.

Bella and Edward together make me think of that annoying kissy-smooch sound that movies like to blast acapella for five minutes. (To me this noise is akin to nails on a chalkboard to some people.)

And WHY, HOW do you have this much lovey-ness for someone when you're 18 unless your future involves a double-wide.

Jacob. Jacob. What else can I say? He's smart. He's nice. And I root for him in every paragraph.

And I like Alice because she sounds like someone with cool hair.

And I just redeemed my American Express Rewards Points for a Barnes and Noble giftcard so I can buy the last book.

Dork.

My kinda evening

New Years Eve: Dancing dressed in a glittery gown with great looking hair and perfectly applied makeup - a flute of champagne (or, in my case, Head Injury Champagne = sparkling apple juice), a countdown and a kiss at midnight.

This? Is not how I spent my new year's eve.

My new years eve was spent with farts and d*ck jokes coming from my DVD player in the form of Superbad.

I was dressed in my flannel pajamas with the pictures of a cow jumping over the moon.

No makeup whatsoever.

Glasses on.

Coughing/sneezing my head off with a Kleenex shoved up each nostril and really hoping I could stay awake until midnight.

BUT

Earlier that day I completed the longest workout I'd done in six months - Pilates, swim (for the 1st time since injury!!! I never thought I could miss drinking chlorine so much), bike (45 minutes in a delicious head wind) and run (15 minutes in a glorious bonk.)

AND

Tonight? The same thing minus the fart jokes.