La, la, la. Just your friendly, neighborhood not-really-blogger here. How's everybody doing? Don't mind me. It's, like, 5:40 a.m. and I'm blogging on my BlackBerry from the depths of my bed under the electric blanket. It's winter now. Go figure.
I was awakened early by the desperate need to pee. More on that later. And, of course, because I can't make any sudden movement without checking my BlackBerry first for any earth shattering developments, I found I had a new Facebook message from a friend. She told me I needed to blog. Like, yesterday. And every time she visits my site, her heart breaks because THAT STUPID BITCH WILL NOT POST ANYTHING NEW. (I made that last part up).
But OMG, you guys, I will not be responsible for the broken heart of another person.
Let me rephrase that.
But OMG, you guys, I will not be responsible for the broken heart of a blog reader. Everyone else, be damned.
So here I am. Feeling all guilty in my bed, blogging in the dark. I will have you know I've only watched Twilight once since we last spoke. I feel that's some sort of record. Or miracle. Or pathetic admission. Edward's still hot. And did I tell you I already have my ticket for something like the 12:02 a.m. showing of New Moon when it comes out? Because I do. Judge me.
Speaking of movies coming out, the Michael Jackson This Is It documentary comes out in a couple weeks. OH MY GOD. I'll be seeing that ninety-eleven times. And weeping silently from the back row like the creepy lady who goes to see a Michael Jackson posthumous documentary ninety-eleven times. Oh, Michael. Why did you die? Nope. Still not over it.
And my marathon is this weekend. Which is funny, because I'm pretty sure I gave up running for a good two weeks during the peak of what should have been my training. My hip flexor was all broken, and I was burnt-the-shit-out. Turns out running three marathons in one calendar year is a lot. And running is only new and exciting and worthwhile for so long. Sort of like relationships. Huh. Who knew? So I just quit.
And then I woke up one day, slapped myself around a little bit, got my ass out the door and ran. Felt great. And now I'm back in the game. So, Sunday it is. And if I don't break four hours, so help me Lord...
I'll just try again in the spring.
I'll never learn.
In the spirit of marathon preparation, I've also taken to hydrating myself this week. No caffeine and LOTS of water. My mouth was, like, attached to a water bottle yesterday. Which is fun until I have to pee every 8 minutes. But if you think about it, it was my marathon which brought me to you this morning. I'm training therefore I'm hydrating therefore I have to pee every 8 minutes therefore I wake up at 5:40 a.m. to pee therefore I check my BlackBerry therefore I see I'm breaking hearts and BOOM! Here I am.
Thank you, marathon.
In other news, Harley's taken to shitting on the floor again whenever she so chooses. And yes, I hate her. And yes, if I didn't love her so much I'd tie her up in a fucking bag and drop her into a river. Don't mind me, I'm just the lady who lives in a studio with two cats, one of whom shits on the floor at free will.
If by "hot" you mean "goddamn cat lady."
Oh, life. So hard.
You'd also be pleased to know that as a person who was formerly unemployed for two months, and spent her days in the sunshine on the porch reading books (Sigh. Sigh-sigh-sigh), I now work EVERY SINGLE DAY OF MY LIFE. When I'm not at my day job, I'm at my part-time job. And I used to think that was cute and fun and worthwhile and now I kind of just want to scream and just spend ONE DAY - just one - in my sweatpants doing nothing. I have big dreams, clearly. But I shall continue on. Mostly because I like my part-time job, but also because I like money.
So that's what I know. Crystal, if you're out there, I hope this kissed your little broken heart and made it better.
I promise to return soon from the vast sea of my BlackBerry.