On how The Wire is shifting my racial preferences. Also, guns and running.

Raise your hand if you have a crush on Lt. Carver from The Wire. Raise your other hand if it's Saturday night and you're on the couch watching episode after episode of The Wire.  [raises both hands]

Oh, just me? Well shit.

But no one can pull my heart away from Stringer Bell.

Except, of course, my intense love for Omar Little.

Oh, indeed. And apparently we can blame The Wire for this sudden desire for beautiful and badass black men. Once you go Wire, you never go back? Er. No, that's not how it goes. However, I digress.

Weekends have become a miraculous thing to me once again, rather than just an extension of all the other boring days of the week. Gainful employment has become a wondrous thing.

Not so wondrous these days is running. I documented my recent running struggles over on the Dailymile blog, but to recap: I just don't wanna. I lost my mojo. I seem to survive my long weekend runs, but when it comes to waking up early to get my mid-week miles in before work, I can't do it. When I get home from work at the end of the day the last thing I want to do is run. There is no happy medium.

I think winter has taken its toll. It's been an easy winter. Hardly any snow, even less cold. But the darkness. The morning darkness, the evening darkness. I'm sick of darkness! I don't like running in the dark. I'm a chickenshit. Sure, I wear my headlamp and my red blinking light and my reflective vest. I'm safe from passing vehicles. But you know what I'm not safe from? MONSTERS.

So, there's that.

But what it really comes down to is I NEED MY RUNNING BACK. I want to run. I want to enjoy it. I want to start kicking ass again. But apparently I want to lay on the couch more.

In other news, I held my first handgun a couple weeks ago. A sweet, new friend of mine keeps a handgun in her home for safety. She and her husband each have one, and handle them with utmost responsibility. So of course they just handed it right over to me. Me. With a firearm. Ha.

I'll tell you what, IT WAS TERRIFYING. I have an absurd fear of guns. I think it's the power they have. The absolute destruction they can cause. It's overwhelming, and to say I wasn't completely freaked out to hold one in my hand is a lie. Of course, you would never know from looking at this picture:

But that just goes to show how deceiving pictures can be. But dang. I pull off Gun-Wielding Lunatic Broad pretty well, huh? So anyway, I continue to be terrified of guns. I'm not sure if that's healthy. My friend's husband offered to take us to a shooting range to learn the proper way to handle and fire, and I'm curious to try. But I've gotta say, I'm much more comfortable with fingerguns.

[pew-pew]

So that's the latest. I keep telling myself I'm going to get back to regular blogging, and I keep putting it off until another day. Just like running. PECULIAR.

Until next time, keep on keepin' on. And put your guns away.