to eat 4 pieces of fake bacon and a chocolate-covered cherry for breakfast, then I don't want to be right.

Towards the end of my bike ride yesterday a small group of us were finishing a lap of Mercer Island and we saw a woman walking her dog.

Now say what you will about Mercer Island but it's nothing if not

• white
• rich
• white (oops, I already said that...)
• inhabited by lots of badly aging empty nesters

And that is exactly what we saw. I believe "fully botoxed" were Dustin's exact words as we passed this woman who was walking her dog towards us. Let me set the scene.

Fur lined brown jacket, matching (but not fur lined - I don't think) brown pants, matching brown [insert expensive designer name here] handbag daintily perched on one arm, hair (colored to match the outfit so help me god) perfectly sprayed just so, makeup that would stand up to rock concert spotlights and of course skin that was way too smooth for this at least 50 something woman.

Don't get me wrong, nothing wrong with trying to keep yourself looking good and doing a little maintenance here and there but this was the full on puffy lips, apply the foundation with a trowel, no one EVER sees me as I really am hideous mask that gives me the creeps.

Two words: let go.

Two more: Jacqueline wannabe

Two more: Martin has an attitude problem

Well that's more than two but you get the idea.

This post was prompted by my trip to the store today. Sitting in holiday traffic. Trying to find my happy place. Never ending shiz on the radio. Suddenly the fog lifted and I found myself singing every word to Icehouse's "Electric Blue". And instead of taking a sharp right off the Montlake Bridge as any normal human would, I thought, hey do I have this on my ipod? I confess. I love crappy music. I love it for its unabashed crappiness. I bask in its sheer craposity. You can't always share this with people. Most take themselves too seriously. A nod to Icehouse would be a blight on their personal record. But you can't truly appreciate good music unless you know what's shitty, correct? I like the spectrum. The nuance of crap. Maybe the nuance I speak of here is of the Cheesy variety. I don't know. Maybe I like Electric Blue because it reminds me of 7th grade and singing into my Clairol Makeup Mirror. Maybe I just have really bad taste in music. But it got me thinking, what other unspeakable's are hiding on my ipod? Downloads I won't admit to downloading. Songs no human in their right mind will admit to liking* Well, here you go everybody, the top 9 cheesiest songs on my ipod today**:

"Jive Talkin'" - Bee Gees     We all love to hate the Bee Gees but come on. They're catchy. Admit it. The beginning guitar pickin' sound? It's awesome. I'm going to ramp up the cheese factor by confessing I also dig "One" and "Alone" which were late 80's and early 90's Bee Gees songs that nobody should ever cop to knowing. Shame on me.

"Night Moves" - Bob Seger     Ooh. This one hurts me about as much as it hurts you, but it's true. How could I? Even worse? How could I own Bob Seger's Greatest Hits? I could easily pick any song on that album but this one is actually on my ipod. Oh Sweet Hosanna, I'm really digging myself in here. "Tight pants, points, hardly renown". You heavenly wordsmith, you. It's so wonderfully disturbing.

"Sister Golden Hair" - Bread     I have a soft spot for 70's hooks, what can I say. Obviously, I was born in the wrong decade. Although, I ask Martin and he doesn't remember half of these songs. I think it's because my parents owned a Chevy van with wall-to-wall red shag carpet. I was raised on 8 tracks. And my father owned one of those knitted Budweiser can hats.

"Somebody" - Depeche Mode    Now this one is embarrassing. Only because I truly thought this was The Way love was supposed to be back in the 80's. Oy, God. How gay. I, too, was 'carefully trying to steer clear of those things". Yikes.  What were 'those things'? My girlfriends and I would sit around and brush each others hair and marinate in our bereftness. So emo.

"Sara Smile" - Hall & Oates        Truth be told, this should be "She's Gone" but I don't technically have that on the ipod. Hall & Oates rocks my socks. This guys' too. WHAT is that?

"Do It To Me" - Lionel Richie   I will probably have to write a whole separate post on my relationship with Smooth Jazz. Suffice to say, I like the slow grooves. Unabashedly cheesey and saxophoney ones. With plenty of "motown lovin'". Lionel came out with a couple gems in the early 90's. I don't know why I like them. Again, I don't know what is wrong with me. It's not even Commodores Cool. It's like lame elevator rock. I am the first to admit it.

"Crazy Love" - Poco     The vocals on this song remind me of every song I heard when I was in kindergarten in 1980. Those were good times.

Entire Kamakiriad Album - Donald Fagen    Some Steely Dan songs are so retro their cool. Steely Dan has street cred. But only an absolute Donald Fagen fan would love every single song on Kamakiriad. Only an absolute dork fan would choreograph a whole dance in their living room to "Tomorrow's Girls". Ssshhh. Forget I told you that. There was wine involved and lots of snow. We were snowed in. And bored. And drunk. Sometimes, always actually, I feel way too young to like Donald Fagen as much as I do.

"Year of the Cat" - Al Stewart     I picture hilltop mansions in LA. Or the Regal Beagle. That's exactly what I see. Jack, Janet and Chrissy sipping Riunite on ice. That's nice. Sharing some calamari. How long is this song? It's one of those story-songs that takes you high and brings you way down low. It's Epic. Epically 70's.

*I can't even bring myself to put Lou Gramm's "Midnight Blue" on the list because it's so good. Anything that involves this:

You were the restless one
And you did not care
That I was the trouble boy
Lookin' for a double dare

Is f'ing sweet in my book.

**meaning, there could be crappier ones on there tomorrow, just wait.

http://www.storyofstuff.com/

The Story of Stuff is a 20:40 movie and a web site full of information about the culture of consumption we live in. It also has links and resources to hopefully explain how we can break out of this non-sustainable cycle.

From the web site:

"From its extraction through sale, use and disposal, all the stuff in our lives affects communities at home and abroad, yet most of this is hidden from view. The Story of Stuff is a 20-minute, fast-paced, fact-filled look at the underside of our production and consumption patterns. The Story of Stuff exposes the connections between a huge number of environmental and social issues, and calls us together to create a more sustainable and just world. It'll teach you something, it'll make you laugh, and it just may change the way you look at all the stuff in your life forever."

I know what you are thinking, preaching to the choir and all that... Well maybe you are right. But maybe this is still a great movie and web site. And maybe it's pretty relevant.

Everyone has their own level of tolerance when it comes to consuming, producing waste, using natural resources, eating meat, acquiring stuff, whatever. None of these things are necessarily bad but I'm thinking none should be done with no regard for their consequences. It's that "Think globally, act locally" cliche all over again. And it's why I feel a twinge of guilt when I have to drive to work (five miles one way!) in the van. I suppose a twinge is better than nothing.

Thanks to Mark B for sending me this.

Remember when you were 13? Stuff like getting dirty, skipping your shower and carving things with sharp knives were what you did. It's what you were about.

And playing with fire.

Cameron is no different.

Nice.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00067F1CE/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

Nice. A personal tank, why didn't I think of this first? There goes another gazillion dollars I won't be making. With this ride all the original gangsters could cruise with total impunity.

You need to read the reviews, they had me laughing so hard my side hurt.

Thanks to Annie at work for this gem.

Martin took me to the Dina Martina Christmas Show this past Friday at Rebar. You should go to this show. If you like bizarre and blasphemous Christmas humor as much as I, you will not regret it. It's not even necessarily a drag queen thing. More like a very original mix of mid-western tea cozy warmth with sheer garish insanity. Dina sang a medley of "White Christmas" & Laid Back's "White Horse". Need I say more? How awesome.

Which makes it all the more annoying that my Appreciation for Obscure Homo Theatrics was called into question by some pompous gayass. Repeatedly. Even during intermission. It started with us trying to find a seat and spying 2 at the bar that looked open. I approached and asked if they were taken, thereby opening a can of judgmental worms. Whatever his name was was very nice and told us to sit down since his boyfriend was at the bar. Ah, how cordial of him. Then he starts talking to me, asking me if I'd seen the show before. Fair enough. Nice convo opener. When I said 'no' he morphed into Bobby Trendy and goes, as though someone just waved a dirty diaper under his nose, "Why did you come here"? And me, still being the nice, aw-shucks friendster said, "Oh you know, just heard it was a great show". "Yeah, but how did you END UP HERE? WHY would you come to this show"? I was getting a little befuddled. "Where are you FROM"? He kept looking me up and down. I couldn't shake his disbelief. Looking around the room and noticing all of the other NON-GAYS there, it wasn't like some private affair. Am I giving off some Republican vibe I don't know about? Jesus. I don't shop at Talbot's, I'm not sipping on white zin. What gives? 

"For the first 15 minutes of the show, you're gonna be like (opens mouth in jaw-dropping gesture), it's just, I can't even explain it. WHERE did you say you were from? WHY did you come here again?"  DUDE. I don't know what words are going to convey to you that I have the proper street cred to appreciate your oh-so groundbreaking and subversive fat guy-dressed-as-lady with Santa hat and Carol Channing wig. You're just going to have to trust me, OK? I promise when my mind shatters into a thousand pieces after the opening number, I'll try not to get any in your Stella. Or on your pointy Kenneth Cole loafers. Or your pointy head.

In addition to wasting lots of time sorta maintaining our own web site and two blogs and tons of other computer stuff that is really important to me only I'm also the web guy for the WSBA. This time of year I have to put together the event calendar for next year and I just finished hammering that out. So here is your special sneak peak. [shhh, don't tell anyone] Ta da...!

http://www.wsbaracing.com/events_2008.asp

Nice. Normally this takes me way too long and this time around was no exception. I must be the slowest coder in the universe. This morning it was freezing outside (literally) and it even snowed a little so I sat in front of the computer all day and typed and copied and pasted.

My sweet, sweet grandmother still sends me money for my birthday. I can't get her to stop even though I'm a grown-ass woman but if it makes her feel good then I guess I have to feel good. This year I put that money towards a first class upgrade on my flight to Vegas. I've flown first class on a few flights before and, you know, I just like the way it feels. It agrees with me. It compliments the valium nicely. Flight attendants are so nice to you! Everyone lounging in their wide seats with their fleece blankies while all the poor stiffs shuffle by, longing in their eyes, trying to spot an empty overhead to jackknife their carry-on into. The novelty of it distracts me from my normal routine of crying and rending my garments on take-off. Something I think my fellow passengers appreciate. Thanks, Grandma.

I get to Vegas early Saturday morning, my sister picks me up and we head over to the Mandalay Bay to pick up my race packet. I get to smell the Mandalay Bay Smell. I don't know what it is. Toxic air freshener, most likely. But the Mandalay Bay and The Bellagio pipe in this pleasingly artificial flower/leather sofa smell into their casinos. And rather than hating it, I absolutely love it and it reminds me of Vegas. I've never smelled it anywhere else. We walk 10 miles through the convention center crap and the expo crap, grabbed my number and my T-shirt from Salt-n-Pepa. I'm not kidding. They were the most enthusiastic trio of volunteers I've ever witnessed. From Texas. Not that that explains anything. But they were obviously soaking up the Vegas experience and hitting the sauce. Marla Gibbs said she'd see me at the finish and then Jackee chimes in, "Yeah girl, I'll be there with my spray bottle squirting vodka in your eyes". WTF? Maybe that was her version of 'break a leg'.  I don't know. They were high.

The rest of my day is spent being mellow. We made a trip to the gym and I ran a few miles. Ate pasta. Went to bed around 8 PM.

(cue Rocky's Theme)

4 am rolls around and I bound out of bed, pound a glass of raw eggs and do some pull-ups in my bedroom doorway.

Or.

Hesitantly make myself eat a yogurt and a piece of toast; my brother-in-laws previous nights' tale of Grete Waitz's craptastic NYC marathon finish on repeat in my head.

It is FREEZING at the start. I actually take shelter in the Port-a- Potty to get out of the cold. There is nothing worse than waiting around at the beginning of a race. Even more so when it's 38 degrees. My teeth were chattering. If it wasn't for the menthol-cool stylings of Robin Leach as race announcer, I would have simply perished. Robin Leach? Yes. He's still around. He's some gossip guru in Vegas now. I couldn't see him just heard his voice. I couldn't see much. I had to dash from the car to the start because we were stuck in some pre-race traffic jam. I followed the crowd and took my place in the street. There was talk of starting corrals and whatnot but I couldn't see anything but massive people. The ones next to me didn't look like elite athletes what with their 100% cotton shirts, earmuffs, tool belts with 40 GU's locked and loaded - do you need that many? Seriously? And the others to my left, full makeup, fake boobs barely tethered by only the merest suggestion of pink sports bras. I figured this place was as good as any.

And we're off!

And we're not going anywhere.

It took me about 10 minutes to reach the starting line but I enjoyed the fireworks display and getting black trash bags wrapped around my ankles. If you didn't watch where you were shuffling, you would have fallen face first in piles of discarded sweatshirts. Goodwill has nothing on what's left along the first 3 miles of a marathon. Such a waste!

I'm feeling good at the start. As I predicted, the excitement of running along the strip was a huge distraction. I ran the first 6 miles and it felt like I had been running 15 minutes. The pack never really thinned out and you had to watch where you were going but other than that there was a lot to take in. Seeing Vegas at that hour was interesting. The sun is coming up, there were a lot of spectators. There were also quite a few hookers. Now, I know Vegas has plenty-O-hookers, sure. Usually they're blending in with the other chicks that dress like hookers just because they're in 'Vegas, Baby!' And what might be a legit soccer mom from Waukesha, WI could easily be confused with your garden variety chippie because both have 3 inches of buttcheek hanging out of their PINK short shorts. These however were definitely the streetwalker variety. How else to explain walking down Las Vegas Boulevard solo, barefoot, pumps in one hand, cigarette in the other at 6 am. Whole different slice of life. The juxtaposition of our pack of runners, high on life, with her at the end of her long night was somewhat deflating. Run from the guilt! That's my new motivation!

I ate a few Shotbloks at mile 9 even though I didn't necessarily need them. I carried them all this way, I might as well use them. I called my sister a few times from the route to tell her where I was and when I would be at the finish. I felt so stupid talking on the phone & running, like, "Watch me - this race is SO EASY I'm checking my voicemail". On the other hand, it was very useful otherwise who the hell knows how I would have found her. I'd do it again.

About 2 miles from the finish, the police cars pull through with their sirens and make us all move to the left. The motorcade escorts the female leader past us with TV cameras and everything. She's totally trucking. Not even breaking a sweat, wearing the teeniest of briefs and singlet. It dawned on me that she was finishing her marathon ahead of me finishing my half. My head twirled for a moment. Then it was time to turn on the afterburner. Shelley Style. It's been well-documented on this website that my running gait resembles that of a geriatric overly concerned with low-impact, low to the ground, Stealth Jogging. No matter how fast I'm going, how much energy I think is being expended. At a full sprint, I still think I'd look like I had a load in my shorts I was determined to deliver ever so delicately to the finish line. I attribute this partly to my larger chest, learning over the years to try and keep that up and down movement to a minimum. Partly, I'm just retarded. It doesn't FEEL like I'm running this way in my head and that's the important thing; I choose my own reality. When I say I 'turned on the afterburner', that means I boosted my speed so slightly as to be undetectable and turned on "It's a Long Way to the Top" by AC/DC on my iPod. Yeah. Eat my dust.

Coming into the finishing gate was awesome. I felt super. Not super enough to run another 13.1 miles like others were doing at that moment (good, god) but better than I expected. I didn't see Shannon and Mike but they caught me on video. I passed on the mylar cape but grabbed a banana, walked to the car, got home and took a four hour nap.

Total thanks to my sister and Mikey for their awesome support. They made me feel like a real rock star. Kinda like this guy.

Sometimes those animated greeting cards just make me want to slash my wrists and end the suffering as quickly as possible. This one Shelley sent me had me in tears. Of laughter.

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1176491072