Why exercise is hazardous to your (mental) health.

I had a couple of bills to mail, and since I have some weird phobia involving the mailman and stacks and stacks of undelivered mail in his basement, I always drop my mail in an official mailbox. The closest one to my house, that I know of, is a couple miles away downtown. Normally I would just drive there, or more likely drop my mail as I drove through town on my way to somewhere else. But since I've lately decided that perhaps sitting on the couch typing doesn't really count as exercise, I thought I would propel myself to the post office under my own steam. I was planning to ride my bike, but the cat was howling at the door to go for a walk, so I loaded him up in the cat stroller and off we went. Now, I like taking walks. But mostly I walk around the neighborhood. And while I might see one or two random people in their yard who say 'hey' and I say 'hey,' that's about it. But today, going downtown was a little different. Even with dulcet tones of Syntax, Mellencamp, Nickle Creek and Lady GaGa in my ear, I wasn't completely distracted from the world around me. What a shame.

First of all, leaving my house at 5 pm, I completely forgot that less than a block away at the park I would be confronted with football practice. Pee wee football no less. So a bunch of little boys and one girl (I know, I met her at the park the other day when she came over to pet and hold and hug Tiger in her pink shorts before heading off in her cleats to run drills with the boys) are swarming all over the park in red and white football gear, full pads and helmets, the works. In 85 degree heat with like 200% humidity. And it goes on for two hours (I know, because Genie was chatting up some football mom the other night at the park) ... TWO hours. And some of these kids look like can barely run with the helmets on. They look barely old enough to run and chew gum at the same time without falling over, much less run laps on a field in full-on football regalia. And I'm not really sure why they were all wearing helmets and pads anyway. Is it really necessary to do some sort of cross-step sideways shuffle around the park? In case, you what? Trip over your own feet and fall on your butt? There were no butt pads. Oh sorry, they're being conditioned. (Because they are Pavlov's dogs. They also salivate at the sound of a bell. And stick their hands out for altoids when they hear the Windows chime.) Because 11-year-olds are so out of shape. And there is so much running in football. For like, five seconds at a time, until they leap into some dog pile seemingly randomly, and the ref blows the whistle. You know what they are being conditioned to do? Be better sheep. Listen to the (fatass) coach (eating something undefinable while watching these kids sweat like pigs) without a second thought, spend hours standing around in the enormous gear, and not complain about the heat and discomfort. Because it's fun, see? I pretty much stared at the whole buttafiasco the whole time I was strolling by. What the hell is this? Texas? It reminded me of how disgusted I was by Friday Night Ligths (the movie, not the tv show ... I love the tv show because there's less football and more Kyle Chandler ... I love Kyle Chandler, have since Homefront ... oh, sorry.) Anyway, I'm probably the only one thinking that pee wee football looks more like punishment than play, but whatever. I thought the same thing 8 or 9 years ago when my little cousin was playing as an 8-year-old. I mean, I played soccer as a kid. Practice wasn't any kind of 2 hours a day, every day, a month before school started. Practice was Wednesdays. And consisted of kicking a ball through some cones while Kim Cruise's dad made sure no one ran away, and occasionally lined us up for some drills. The only specialized gear was shin guards. And if you forgot them, you could still practice. I know it sounds like a relaxed affair. But that's because WE WERE 8! I remember playing football, too (I threw a pretty mean spiral for a 10-year-old girl, thanks Dad) ... at intermurals after school, with flags. No helmets. And if Aaron whatever-his-last-name-was got a little over-excited and tackled you, you just punched him in whatever body part you could land a punch on. Mr. Pease blew his whistle and yelled at everyone and then we all went back to our spots. Unprofessional? Sure. Maybe because we weren't professionals, we were kids. I don't know, call me crazy, but sometimes it's nice for kids to just have fun and learn to salivate at the bell later. Like at work.

So this is what I was pondering as I passed the park, and through the rest of neighborhood, and past the ponds, and down the hill past the town hall building, and waiting for what seemed like hours for the WALK sign to appear at the traffic light, and crossing the river, and walking past another park, even as I crossed one street just to get the crosswalk so that I could cross back to the side I was orginally on (I didn't want to jaywalk and set a bad example for Tiger, after all,) and well, basically until I arrived at yet another park next to my destination, the post office. Well, really just the mailboxes. Anyway, at that point I was beginning to wonder if this whole thing had been a good idea. I did almost get run over, after all. By a teenage ubergeek on his bike, who apparently thought not only is it okay to ride your bike on the sidewalk, but to ride your bike smackass in the middle of the sidewalk. And I don't even know what he was doing on that side of the road. The comic book nerd store is on the other side of the street. Also, I was hot and sweaty. And my chest felt kinda tight ... but that was just because of sports bra I was wearing. Still, I was uncomfortable. And then the cat starts bitching at me. Not because he's hot or tired of being in the stroller. Not even because he wants me to let him out to run around the streets (street) of downtown Oswego (which is actually quite a cute little downtown ... walking through it almost feels like I'm walking through some out-of-the-way city neighborhood ... for about 5 steps anyway.) Nope, the cat is bitching because no one has stopped to talk to him or pet him or give him any sort of attention. It makes him surly.

Surly cat or not, I still had to walk home. It seemed uneventful enough. I mean, I did see a guy in front of the Tap House Grill use his cigarette to light another guy's cigarette which seemed overly dramatic, but whatever. And then when I was crossing the river, I saw a guy who's head seemed entirely too small for the rest of him. And oh yeah, I'm pretty sure there's a body in the middle of the river. Or a cardboard box. Or a body. Either way, there's wasn't anything I could do about it. So I just moved on and stood at the big intersection, waiting for the stupid WALK sign again. The guy with the small head showed up. Except it really wasn't so much that his head was small, but that his clothes were huge. Banger-wanna be in whitebreadville ... cute. Then some chick on a bike shows up. BikeGirl wasn't interested in waiting for any signs so she took off across the street. So WhiteBanger and I took the opportunity. Apparently this was funny, so he turned and smiled when we got to the other side. And then said, "Hey, do you know anyone who wants some Beagle puppies? We've got six that we're selling real cheap." Beagle puppies, huh? I told him should go hawk them at football practice. He didn't seem interested, shockingly enough. So we went our separate ways. It was certainly the weirdest exchange I've had on a street corner since ... yeah, never mind. Tiger was even more put out at that point. BeagleBoy talked to me and not him? RUDE. Anyway, the pint-sized linebackers were still at it when I passed the park again ... still conditioning, no point it doing anything that resembles playing a game. The coach might have to get out of the barcolounger he's moved onto the field for that sort of thing.

Back on my own street, I did what I usually do, inspect the neighbor's landscaping. Mine needs some help, so when I'm staring at their houses, I'm totally just looking at the plants, not trying to look in their windows or anything. Mostly because I already did that and there's never anything to see. Anyway, I filed away a few stolen ideas ... one involving a row of Rose-of-Sharon bushes out by the front fence that might actually like to use. And one that I don't want to use. Ever. A few houses down they've obviously recently redone the beds around the house. They look nice and neat; I quite like it. Except for the corner where, for some inexplicable reason, there is a black metal plant stand, the likes of which you might in someone's kitchen by the window. Only this is outside, and features not one, but two, fake plants in baskets. Why? Everything else in that planting bed is ... you know, a plant. So why not put a plant there? I mean, I'll admit that I put fake flowers in the big planters and hanging baskets on my porch, but that's only because the real ones die too easily in a covered area. But why the display of fake greenery in the middle of the front yard? Mind-bottling. So I went home to my 69 degree house where I realized how gross and sweaty I was, sucked down a giant glass of lemonade and, consequently, felt like puking.

And that is why exercise, such as it was, is hazardous. You just end up disgusted, confused, sweaty, and pukey. On the plus side, I now know where to go if I want some Beagle puppies. And at least there wasn't a treadmill or an ellipse or anything that could be described as 'cardio' involved. Although at least when you run on your treadmill, weirdos on street corners don't ask you if you want to buy a puppy. Maybe I should get a treadmill.

Holy Crap, I don't remember how to do this ...

Hello world ... or the four people I will pester until they read this blog,

Okay, so it's been a while. I've been busy. Moving sucks. If I could ever get this house straightened up, I could take some pictures and show you what I've been busy with, but at the moment it still looks like a tornado hit. Which is, apparently, different from pornado. Huh, who knew?

So anyhoo, I pretty much forgot this blog even existed until yesterday when two fortuitous things happened. One was the Psych premiere and the other was stumbling onto a gem of a blog here on blogspot. And I thought to myself, Hey, I've got blogspot account. And I should write a blog about Psych. So there you go. But apparently I stopped here on the way.

So here's little bit of what I've been up to since I last bothered to post anything here. Um ... well ... nothing interesting, really. But here's some of the boring. So a day or two after my last blog, I finally managed, on attempt #3 to complete the closing on this house that I currently live in. No one worry about the blizzard. I like driving 5, 6 hours in the blinding snow. Which is good because that's what I proceeded to for the next 2 and half months while I traveled repeatedly from Peoria to Oswego to supervise replacing the carpet, and adding the upstairs laundry hook-up, etc. And oh yeah, the hours and hours and hours that I spent more or less single-handedly painting just about every room in the house. Okay, I had help with a few of the walls, but still ... it was lot of 18-24 hours straight of painting, just to fall asleep to my Early Edition DVDs while lying on a pile of air mattresses. It's glamorous, I know. So suck it.

Turns out I only thought I was having fun then. Nothing compares to the joys of moving. I mean, the moving 'crew' turned out to be on middle-aged dude and all the teenage boys he could rustle up. Consequently, they swarmed all over the house, randomly toting thinks out to the truck, and naturally, unloaded the truck in the same careful fashion. Which is why I found boxes marked living room in the basement and kitchen tools stored in the garage. Kitchen, garage, close enough, right? Yeah, I thought so. Now, I had a month between when I moved in and when I started my ill-fated baby-sitting gig, but yet nothing got done. Well, that's not entirely true. Boxes were unpacked, curtains were hung, furniture was built, rooms were rearranged. But it just didn't quite come together. And the 60 hours or more that I was out of house (coupled with the hours in the house consisting of nothing but sitting like a drugged and addled slouth on the couch, barely coherent) meant I didn't get anything done, either.

Which is how, in August, going on five months later that the house is still a disaster. But hey, I did manage to paint most of the rooms I didn't get to before and I painted the fence and the front porch and planted a couple of things. And I did have to go to another closing somewhere along the way. See, I've been busy. Busy logging in some excellent hours in front of the tv and here on the internet, anyway. So it's not like it's been a totally loss. And I only have one more room to paint ... and like 5 1/2 to straighten up and organize ... ooh, so close. And, oh yeah, I'm supposed to be finding a job, too. Ehn, more on that next time. Maybe.

Followers

First off, thanks for following this blog of nonsense.

Secondly, I think it's funny that my four followers consist of, at the moment, Mary Catherine Gallagher, Michael in a Santa beard, and two JAM displays of PDA. Of course, one of those is mine seeing as I feel the need to follow my own blogs. Hey, it makes it easier to get from one to the other, right? If only Cait would join, then I could include Jimmy Fallon among that elite group.

Whatever, Cait! (But thanks for reading anyway.)

****

Today I discovered I'm illiterate

No, not in the sense of not being able to read. I can read. I write a little, too.

But apparently, I'm illiterate in the sense of knowing nothing whatsoever about literature. My mom and I attempted to play Trivial Pursuit: Book Lovers' Edition. Yikes. By some weird fluke, I actually won the game (although it was very close) but I swear we went through at least half the cards. Sad, so very sad. Every other question we were like, "I never heard of that." And on the other questions we were mostly like, "Oh I HEARD of that, but I never would have known." It's pretty sad when you can't even answer the questions in the kiddie lit category. Or when you just answer "Robert Ludlum" for every author category on the assumption that sooner or later that will be the answer. Thank God I finally got a question that was about Tom Clancy. And I only guessed Tom Clancy because the word "submarine" was in the question. Kari, have you played this game yet? OMG, it's ridiculous.

Oh, boy. Next time I am SO making her play The Office Trivia Game. So what if she's never seen the show? She can guess, right?

The Strange Inner Workings of NBC Promgramming (OR Seriously, Who Comes Up With This Stuff?)

So I'm sitting here watching an episode of Andy Barker, PI on Universal HD. Does anyone else remember this show? Seriously, I know it was only on for like 6 episodes or something, but I thought it was pretty funny. Kinda along the same lines as Chuck and Psych. At least, in as much as it followed an inept dude pretending to be a detective. And it was populated with quirky characters liable to say or do wacky and amusing things. I don't know - it was funny. It's too bad it wasn't an instant hit and, so, as usual, NBC pulled the plug before it even had a chance to catch on. I don't know about anyone else, but I'd much rather watch an Andy Barker, PI than a Kath and Kim on Thursday nights, but whatever. No one asked me. I just consider it a stroke of luck that The Office survived those first couple of seasons when it was perpetually on the verge of cancellation. Because leave it to NBC to cancel a future Emmy-winner and cult favorite just because they were too dumb to promote it. Thank God for Ben Silverman, right? And look where we are now. With The Office in the coveted post Superbowl slot. My, how things change. Silly NBC. What would they have to pimp out without The Office?

Well, okay, Heroes, but seriously, how much longer is that going to last? I don't know if it'll make the cut next season when NBC embarks on it's attempt to become the Jay Leno Network. I'm not sure what that's all about or how it's gonna work. Two hours of real tv (ala FOX) followed by an hour-long Jay Leno Something Or Other Hour. Um ... well, sounds like something destined to go the way of the evening edition of The Price is Right or Rosie's variety show. But then no one asked me ... again. I think that's where their problem comes in. Not with not asking ME, but with just letting some old dude in a coma's incompetent daughter call the shots (relax, it's just a 30 Rock shout out.) I don't know ... whatever, I guess. As long as The Office isn't on the chopping block. But seriously, they wouldn't give it an HOUR after the Superbowl and then shitcan it ... so I don't think that's too much of a concern. However, I almost don't dare to hazard a guess as to what other shows will and won't still be around. Maybe they intend to shift to a different scheduling scheme all together. Maybe they will show some shows in a fall-winter season and others in a spring-summer season. Or maybe they'll start splitting the seasons like USA does with most of its hit shows now. Or maybe they could just deliver us from the ravages of The Biggest Loser. Couples, families ... holy crap, did we need to see that? If I wanted to see a whole gaggle of fat people, well, I could go look for a 3-way mirror or attend pretty much any family event ... in anyone's family. I want to see this on TV? Hmm, not really. So, you know, the least they could do is save it for summer.

Maybe this whole paring down the lineup will end up being good. Quality over quantity, right? I mean, really, take away The Biggest Loser, and I'm not sure they even have enough to fill the ten weekday primetime hours they are alotting themselves. I mean, Thursdays can remain the same since I don't anticpicate them reviving Andy Barker (more's the pity.) Probably just as well they don't have to try to fill ER's shoes after 15 years ... I don't think they could have done it. Not with the crop of crap that's been flitting around lately. There would have always been a Law & Order, I suppose. I wonder if those will stick around? I mean, the original Law & Order has been around since the beginning of time. But I have to say that I've been enjoying it a lot this season ... maybe more than in the past couple of years, so I'd hate to see it go. SVU is always a favorite, as well ... although it's hard to truly pinpoint it's appeal. Rapes and murders and kidnappings and kiddie diddlers - yay! Still, there's something compelling about it.

So I've just filled up 4 of the 10 hours ... plus, of course ... CHUCK! Which I love. And while I'm going on about my various TV obsessions, I might as well mention Life, with that tall, redheaded fellow. I love that show and think it could definitely catch on and be a hit. Crime drama but with some quirkiness. Not goofiness like Psych, but quirky enough to make it just different enough to be interesting. So in my perfect NBC lineup (as dictated by the shows currently availabe) that leaves four hours. But I would love to have Friday Night Lights (Riggins!) back next season. So that would leave three hours ... damn, still time for The Biggest Loser, after all, even if Heroes makes it back for a what ... 37th season? Okay, maybe it just seems that long due to all the extraneous plots. I don't know. I used to like it all right, but now I can't seem to figure out what the hell is going on.

Still, I guess it's better than Momma's Boys. I mean, REALLY? If they want to do some 'reality' programming, I have lots of suggestions for them. Okay, so those all involve cast members from The Office, but so what? People like them ... they aren't insufferable twits who need their mommies to wipe their noses. Well, not that I know of. Or, you know, alternately, if they need to fill some space, as Cait and I were discussing the other day, what would be so wrong about doing an Office extras ... maybe all about a certain wedding (or two) this season. And I'm sure they could come up with something for next season as well. Not an entire new show, just a special now and then. Come on, you know you want to see Pammy trying on wedding dresses. Of course you do.

It's better than Dateline, right? Or a repeat of the Olympics opening ceremonies?!? Do they just throw a dart at the wall with all the things they've shown for the past year? At least on Friday they showed some Top Chef. I mean, hey, if you've got nothing else to put on, skeez some shows for your affiliate networks, eh? I'd love to see a Saturday Night Psych marathon myself. Or Burn Notice. Or Top Chef. Or even Law & Order: Criminal Intent. It would all be better than the Olympics. Seriously, who comes up with this stuff? Cancel quality shows like Andy Barker, PI so we can all watch reruns of 5-month-old international events ... because I know I've just been waiting for the chance to see Belarus march into the Beijing stadium again ... wow.

Seriously, what are they thinking?

So here's my new blog!

Because apparently people would like me to blog about my life.

What life?

Damned if I know. But here it is. Since my life is generally too boring for words - literally, I imagine there will be a lot of randomness and stuff in here. Or, you know, there will be nothing in here. Time will tell.

But for now, I'm wicked tired, so I'm just gonna say ...

Merry Christmas!