Go Forth

I know it’s a total sell-out — ‘the revolution will be televised’ — but the new Levi’s ads make me want to go out and like throw a burning bottle at something or jump in a lake or maybe buy a pair of jeans.

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous.
the gods wait to delight
in you.

The Laughing Heart, Charles Bukowski

What Kind of Police Are You?

The other day I was talking to a guy who owns one of those fake policing companies — ok, private security — and apparently they actually have the authority to do stuff.

Their authority to detain people, etc, rests on the same code that allows citizens’ arrests essentially. Those fake security people are actually allowed to arrest you and take you in to the police station.

So, I said, well, you’re not the police, right? So, I have the right to resist you “arresting” me.

Yeah, well, people have tried that and they use force or even pepper spray to detain people and bring them in for a variety of offenses – namely of the disorderly conduct, public intoxication variety.

I swear to god, you try to “arrest” me and I will resist my ass off, because who the fuck are you, in your creepy pseudo-cop uniform. No, I’m not going with you. How do I know you’re not just trying to kidnap me or something worse? And if you pepper spray me, I will 1. probably kick you in the groin and 2. sue your ass.

The Last Week

This is what the last week was like (without pictures, because I’m not a picture person).

Monday: Work, pack, pack, work. If we don’t leave until 3 p.m., then we might as well wait until after traffic. We don’t leave until 3 p.m. It’s a long drive up to Tahoe. Followed by a short, short run.

Tuesday: Something about the noise in the room and the heat wakes both of us up really early, not that either of up slept a solid 6 hours anyway. I get up, on a call. Do more work. Pack up the whole room to change rooms, because of the noise. Go for a ride. Work more. Mess up a story — though I don’t learn I messed it up until the next day. Swim in Tahoe Lake, without freaking out too much. Work until just after 9 p.m. and then drink.

Wednesday: Almost slept six hours, though new construction wakes both of us up early again. First real vacation day! Get massive altitude sickness dragging myself on a run around Donner Lake. Had no, no idea it was going to be a disaster until I was halfway around the lake and spinning, stumbling and sticking my head under public bathroom fountains. Finally, eventually, after finding out about the story I messed up while wanting to throw up next to my car, made it back to the hotel. Laid in the bed moaning for hours. Ventured out long enough in the evening to get chewed up by mosquitoes.

Thursday: Slept solidly. Packed up the whole room to change hotels. Drove to new hotel, threw on bike clothes, rushed to meet Steve Kukta for a ride around Tahoe Lake. The ride around the lake was pretty awesome. And 95 miles.

Friday: Hardly get any sleep – tossing and turning all night and freaking out about all the work I have to do. Packed up the whole room again to check out. Swim without a wetsuit and freeze my ass off (though, it was gorgeous), shivering and shaking. Drive four hours over the mountain pass to Gold Country and my legs ache. Exhausted, drag, drag, drag my feet. Help Steve get all his stuff ready for his race the next morning.

Saturday: Up at 5:30 a.m. Steve races. I barely coast through an hour bike ride. Lay back down on the bed and sleep, sleep, sleep.

Sunday: Up at 4:50 a.m. Steve races. I drive. And sit. And then drive more. We get home and I lay down more and then work, work, work.

Monday: Have a hysterical fit in the car.

It’s been a good week.

Headed to Tahoe Soon

We were watching old episodes of Glee yesterday and the incredibly annoying, patronizing episode went on and on about loving yourself and one girl – who supposedly was not hot – v. another girl – who was supposedly hot. Except like it’s TV, so everyone is relatively hot.

It’s really annoying when we all pretend one person in TV or a movie is super hot and one isn’t, but really you’re never going to look like either of them.

The episode was also super annoying because in order to love yourself evidently you have to acknowledge something about yourself that you hate. Don’t hate yourself? You’re obviously lying, you not-hot wierdo.

Raced the Tiburon Triathlon this morning: super short, super fast.

I swam hard, hard and tried to stay with the front guys. But, since I’m not that fast, I never bothered to find out what the course was. I’ll just follow everyone in front of me. No problem, except the really fast guys dropped us hard and then it was me and two other guys leading everyone else. We swam into a bunch of boats and all started looking around, no buoys, no nothing, no idea. “Where did you lead us?” I said the to guy and he was like “I dunno.”

Obviously, we made it out.

Biked hard — thought it was definitely faster and harder than the other time I did this race, but it wasn’t.

Tried to run hard, wanted to run 6:00 miles and I was close but then I started to throw up. Not just a little either, which I can deal with, but like full on about to double over and just start hurling everywhere. So, I slowed down and this 14-year-old went past me. And I ran like 6:07 miles instead.

Slower than before, but ok. Hard. And nine guys beat me.

Ready for Vineman?

I actually had fun at a pro meeting today.

This is shocking. I hate pro meetings — always feel awkward, out of place, etc, etc. But, Kristin showed up and we hung out and it was good times.

Maybe tomorrow’s race will be fun too? (WHAT?!)

Last night, Steve and I went to see the last Harry Potter. He’s never seen one of the movies. He’s never read one of the books. He was pretty sure it’s a combination of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and those Twilight movies.

His verdict is: it was boring.

I knew shit was going down, but didn’t care about the people being killed. A lot of it was just to sell videogames. And then there were some Braveheart wannabe scene.

Also, the guy without the nose had it in for Potter — I figure it’s because Potter’s responsible for him not having a nose.

The movie started with them going to a B&B and rounding up a hobbit, who took them to a hobbit bank, which wasn’t really believable as a bank.

[Kelly’s note — sure, close enough…]

The wise mole people were symbolic. The whole movie was heavy on the symbolism.

Eventually, they met up with the wizard from Lord of the Rings.

[Kelly’s note — Dumbledore.]

The best scene was in the supply closet.

[Kelly’s note — the supply closet?]

Yeah, where they got the brooms and flew out.

[Kelly’s note — you mean, the Room of Requirement with the crazy fire?]

Where they kept all the school supplies, so Susan Sarandon could teach them how to use it.

[Kelly’s note — Susan Sarandon?]

Whatever, the British actress who’s always typecast.

[Kelly’s note — Susan Sarandon’s not even British.]

Fortunately, the girl sitting next to me alerted me to when a popular character was entering the scene by giggling or cheering. She was oddly shocked when some guy in a sweater survived — I’m no reader, but if you’re that invested, wouldn’t you pick up a book to find out how it ends? This was after fighting with her mom on her cell phone about how many cell phone minutes she had left.


So, I raced and I raced and then I got sick and then I stayed sick and then it turned into a sinus infection and then Maggie (my sister) visited and — shocking — I didn’t get better while she was visiting and then I fucked myself up hard in our heat wave and spent five days lying on the floor moaning.

So, those are all my excuses already set for Vineman next weekend.

Just fyi.

I’m actually not totally stressed — mildly stressed but not totally. If anyone knows if I should worry about wetsuit-legalness, let me know. That would eliminate one concern.

Other than that, I’ve just been tired. Tired. [FYI — that is not a statement of depression, nor is it an invitation to ask me what is wrong. It is just a fact from training.] But, that’s not very interesting.

That tiredness totally culminated over the long weekend. I fell apart on a long, hot run — the kind where you’re lucky when you slipped you didn’t slip down the side of the mountain. Usually, when that kind of heat-induced shuffling happens it’s at the end of a hard weekend, but this time it was at the start. That made for an even longer weekend.

I got on my bike the next day and immediately had to reroute my ride past Baskin Robbins. Just make it to Baskin Robbin and then you can take a break:

And then I swam, and ran, and biked more, and sweated and sweated and sweated.

Oh, and there was some other shit, and I almost started crying in our complex pool, and then I peed on myself on accident in the dark after watching fireworks July 4.

Today, it is 69 degrees in our condo. This is amazing. Things are looking up.

A Wedding Post

I once swore I could put on a wedding with three weeks and $1,000. And I could. Ceremony in the park. $175 to rent the clubhouse, hundred dollars worth of decorations (I wasn’t on the Homecoming Committee for three years for nothing; I can make a big room look like an enchanted evening with nothing but stuff from Party City), a margarita fountain — they’re surprisingly affordable, potluck and desserts. BAM. Done.

SO, I could. But I don’t want to.

What I want to do is punch the next person in the head who says we should save money by making our own namecards. Because if you think there will be namecards or that they will be of a variety that costs money at any wedding I’m involved in, then we’ve obviously never met. So, why are you giving a stranger advice?

What we want to do is have an awesome party.

Why would we have namecards? I know everyone and they can introduce themselves to each other — it’ll give them something to talk about. Fancy table seatings are weird. Ditto for seating charts. Why would we rehearse something that will be shorter than 15 minutes. Or have a dinner at that rehearsal that will never happen. We’ve managed to kill every plant that has ever been given to us through apathy, including a cactus, so why would I start caring about flower arrangements now? Catering? Do they cater burritos? No. I am a dessert aficionado and wedding cake is pretty and awful — pretty awful. Three words: brownie sundae bar. Three other, unrelated words: margarita fountain, and: pinanta. Steve firmly believes he is better than every DJ in existence and has already made a mix. And a beer selection list. So.

No, we will not go to a church for the first time ever that day. No, it will not involve bikes (tacky). No, I do not want to look like a fairytale princess. I just want to look really hot. I can’t remember what other things won’t be included, but if you read it in a fucking wedding magazine, then chances are it won’t be included.

Oh yeah, and no, it won’t cost a lot of money.

(You want to be depressed, google ‘budget wedding ideas.’ It’s a messed up industry that has convinced people $10,000 is a budget party. I have put on events – big events – and I know how to run through a to-do list, and I could put on an awesome party – that had nothing to do with budgeting – for $10,000.)

Now, if only everyone else would get onboard. And rent us somewhere to fit all these people for this awesome party for no money.

In all these wedding magazines and wedding websites and wedding blogs, everyone goes on and on about how their wedding is a special, totally unique reflection of them and they just wanted it to reflect them. Right, because you all just happen to be attractive, color-coordinated hipsters with matching themes.

Well, if there was a way this was going to turn out that reflected Steve and I it would pretty much be the way it has:

– He made a mix on his computer and a beer selection list.

– I made an excel spreadsheet of possible locations and emailed them. (I hate calling people.) Many of them emailed back and did not work out, some did not even email back.

– I gave Steve numbers to call and questions to ask. Most of those didn’t work out either.

– Then, I got frustrated and went back to watching TV and doing work. Steve continues to throw out ideas for his mix tape and what types of shuttles/mini-van the college kids are going to drive.

– I told him we needed a deadline and if he wasn’t going to take the initiative finding somewhere, then fine, I guess it just wasn’t going to happen.

– He said he would make calls if I told him where to call, and fine, I guess it just isn’t going to happen.

– Fine.

– Fine.

And, now we are at an impasse. And that is a beautiful, unique reflection of our wonderful life together. All we need is vintage-y looking pictures of us on our laptops in the living room and we can call them engagement photos.