So, it turns out you people are fickle, fickle creatures. I got 249 hits last Friday and 17, just 17!, yesterday. I know what you want: terrible yet humorous things to happen to me, or possibly to Steve. I wish I could give the people what they want.
[Side note: update your links and google readers to this new site. Stop going to the old one!]
Unfortunately, I’m mostly sleeping this week. It’s hard to get into trouble when you’re asleep, though not impossible. Sunday afternoon, I kind of crawled into a little ball on the couch and explained what was happening in the Super Bowl to everyone else. [Side note: weren’t most of the Super Bowl ads just for shows on the same channel?] Then I slept 10 hours and stumbled around all Monday morning, unable to bend my legs. Best cure for that? Start of the high school track season!
Monday night: another 9 hours of sleep. Tuesday I didn’t leave my office once between 9:30 and 5:15, but my legs finally stopped feeling like they were ripping — always a plus. Yesterday, I thought I would actually attempt a medium length run, but instead I ended up doing drills and ab work with the high school team. Kind of like running….
It’s not that there’s not EXCITING! things going on in my life, but I am showing restraint, see, by not talking about them. SEE.
Don’t worry, it won’t last long.
It has become increasingly clear that there are people arriving at this stop on the information superhighway that I would not necessarily choose to invite. Welcome. Thank you for your patronage, please visit the gift shop on the way out.
In a related vein, I really hate Google Buzz. I didn’t sign up for this shit. I don’t want to be “buzzed” and I can’t opt out. Everything that’s showing up in my Buzz is already showing up in my google reader when people share those links, so why do I want it again. If Buzz has cool features, I don’t know about them, because it was foisted on me without explanation. Stop taking my information, Google! I don’t need to network with people I already email regularly.
Also, it turns out I’m secretly a 60-year-old curmedgeon who enjoys chasing kids with a broom and lives with too many cats.