Tuesday, April 21, 2009

This is the long-cooking kind of post.

Holy friggin wall of words, Batdude!

Have the last couple of days’ worth of output here kind of got you reeling? Like, a verbal volcano busted wide open, spraying the landscape with context, meaning, insight, and chewy fresh mirth?

Amazing what happens when you talk with someone who actually has something to say. If you’re expecting more of that kind of action today, well you have come to the wrongest place on the face of this flat planet. The brain ain’t cranking on all cylinders today, certainly not enough to recite anything of possible interest that may have happened lately.

Except for Saturday, when we went of the Longest Hike Ever in recent memory, which started out as something of a grand adventure and wound up, 2 and a half hours later, to be a hip-popping, foot-crushing exercise (literally) that I thought for SURE I’d be feeling the next day, but surprisingly did not. Honestly, at my age I figured that the 6 or so miles of his hike would shut my fat white butt right the smack on DOWN, but no. There were no sympathy pains, no loving care needed, no mothering of my tender bits by a loved one. It’s apparent that I am in TOO GOOD A SHAPE to be fussed over. Even the stabbing pains in my left big toe subsided by the following morning; and I had such high hopes of being able to convincingly limp about for at least a day, garnering expressions of concern from little old ladies and other concerned citizens.

Perhaps God is a-smiting me for being an attention whore?

Or perhaps the hike was not nearly as arduous as I had thought, and that the brief-acting pain generators were overcome by a wash of endorphins brought about by the tremendous relief I felt when we finally got back to the sweet confines of the car and thus I cured myself with blessed relief? Could happen.

Must remember to grouse more next time, and for far longer than I did this past week. Must overcome impulse to be GRATEFUL, and instead substitute sarcastic fatalism for sheer ecstasy. Sure, it might still FEEL as good to sit down and have the bone-poppery commence as one’s spine realigns into the familiar slouch, but expressing that pleasure will only serve to FIX THE PAIN, and then where would one be? One would be staring into the face of a reality that includes one actually being able to walk for 2.5 hours straight, which means that one should be doing MORE of that kind of tomfoolery, and that is a hard reality indeed.

Or one could simply pray for rain every weekend until the end of time.

Either way – it appears that more very long walks indeed are to be in my future, for I know my limits, which do not include uber-grousing or being able to effect meteorologic change on the scale proposed. I am only human, more's the pity.


Ridiculous name: Dinky McChuckenham. Somebody should name their kid that.


Got the news yesterday that our company is being bought. It the first time I’ve even been through an acquisition in which I worked for the company being acquired.

Since hearing the news, it seems that I’ve developed the ability to crawl walls. ASTOUNDING! Being red-zone nervous about the future results in the development of SUPERPOWERS!

Also? I think my teeth are in danger of being ground into powder.

Sure wish I hadn’t picked this week to quit drinking.

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