Fake it Till You Make it

I started Gym-ming it again (gummi word. I blame the Yoga teacher). I have never given up my membership, even when I was unemployed, because it’s only $20 a month. In the last few months I have been goading myself to get there because I found an insurance plan that pays $20 a month towards a gym membership if you go 12 times in that month. This seemed reasonable to me until my boss, a fit, athletic Amazon, said “Oof! That’s three times a week!” If SHE thinks that’s excessive….oh lordy. Suddenly this reasonable request started to lay bricks on my motivation, and built a wall 5 feet high of self doubt. Then the brick layers went to lunch; like a French lunch. I’m pretty sure they “lunched” 4 hours (in dream time….have you seen inception? That’s like 2 months) and got drunk. Then they returned, saw the wall, deemed it ugly, and went off to do French things. Yep, pretty sure that’s what happened. Very sensitive artist-y, my motivational brick layers.

The funny thing about the gym is that every morning you jump out of bed, like it's Christmas. You come running downstairs and ask the scale, "Am I skinny yet?" It can be very disappointing. But it's not all bad, and you have to remind yourself why you're doing it, blah blah blah. :)

Anyway, like any lame New Years Resolver, (to my credit, I never actually RESOLVED to go to the gym for New Year’s, it just happened to coincide with a particularly unflattering picture of myself), I started back at the Gym in January. I thought, “If I start early, I can get 12 sessions in,” and I went. I walked the treadmill to music on my iPod. I thought, “Everyone is looking at me,” and then, in style typical of me, I started thinking about whether or not that was true. Here’s my theory on gawking at the gym:

You can give yourself any reason not to go; I for one can talk myself out of almost anything. The worries are always the same: What if I only spend 10 minutes on the treadmill? People will think I’m lazy. What if people look at me? Am I cute enough to get hit on by that one guy who spends 8 hours a day on the weight machines, trolling for chics? What if my clothes make me look fat?

Good questions, all, and likely to keep you at home. I opted to put on my tightest clothes, fake my confidence, and go anyway. I have this athletic shirt that is kind of huggy, but promises to “wisk away moisture,” and as you likely have guessed, have never worn it. I have this philosophy about bolstering self confidence; it’s basically a “Fake it Till You Make it” idea, and it works…mostly. So I went. I tied my iPod to my arm, and I climbed on the treadmill. These can get VERY fancy, by the way. I figured it out, put on my music and did my thing. And yes, I looked around. Nobody was looking at me, I was the only looker. I started worrying about my time on the treadmill (there were 2 highschool girls on the treadmill in front of me, running. I started worrying about my speed. Then I realized (or convinced myself) that everyone there was really only worried about themselves, just like me. And I saw people do circuits; 10 minutes on each machine, and I realized nobody was really paying attention to me at all, and people come and go. My confidence started to become real until I felt my shirt start to creep up my back, and I spent a good 8 minutes tugging it back down. Now I go, and I ride the stationary bike (this is really fancy too; I just set how long I want to go, what level, and then hit “surprise me” for the route. I actually enjoy this, and can read at the same time), then I swim for a while, and I’m getting a routine down.

I have always wanted to do a yoga class, and I’ve done it at home, but it was some sort of milestone to do it in a class with people. I so wanted to do this, and was so resolved, that right before the brick layers started to pile on stones, I told my bosses I needed Wednesday nights off for Yoga. And I really wanted to go. I finally did, yesterday. I had a decent amount of confidence, as I know many of the poses by name, and did not think I would fall behind. Besides, I’d been singing “I have confidence in Sunshine” all the way to the gym, but this may have been because it was 20 below zero, and I was being optimistic. So I get there 20 minutes early, assured that I don’t have to bring a mat, and I’m excited, because Yoga is about connecting the mind to the body through breath, and focusing on the transitions between poses. It’s relaxing but taxing, as I like to say, because the pose may not be that hard, but hold it for 20 breaths, and you’ll feel uncomfortable. Get to know your discomfort! J I know a few of things about Yoga: 1.) If it hurts, you need to find a modification so it doesn’t. 2.) Moves like the Plow can kill you if you do them wrong, and should be supervised closely, so you don’t snap your neck while your feet are over your head. 3.) Yoga is meant to calm the body and the mind to focus on your next tasks, with a team of mind and body calmly floating through the world, ready to deal with anything (even MN drivers, which is another blog entirely).

So I get to the class 5 minutes early, and there are already territorial issues. People want their mats far enough apart so they don’t hit each other with a wayward warrior pose, but there’s not a lot of room to fit in. So in Fake it Till You Make it style, I ask, “is it ok if I scoot in between you two?” and they both move 2 inches to let me in. That was nice. The teacher starts, and says how important it is to breathe, my breath should be the most interesting thing in the room, etc. We take deep breaths, get started to Enya, and begin. She doesn’t do any poses herself, she walks in between all of us like a severe school teacher, yelling out poses so quickly, that there is no time to transition into one before she is two ahead of you, let alone breathe correctly. I imagined that she had a whipping stick she was slapping into her palm, but I am pretty sure she didn’t….pretty sure. Oxygen deprivation can do interesting things to memories. Calm area CRASHED. She slows down a bit, and we start to get in line again, and I am excited, because I know the poses she’s calling (which is good, cause she explained exactly NOTHING about how to do them), except a couple, and I look around to see what they look like, and people are doing different things, because clearly they don’t know either. I get a sharp look for looking around (not ONCE did this lady say to anyone, “Nice job,” “that’s it” or anything of the sort), and I’m having a really hard time finding a calm center. Every time I start to come back to center, something happens. A knock on the door, then my teacher (who STILL has us holding in chair pose), says very snappily, “I can only take one of you, I’m full. Class started SEVEN minutes ago.” She wants to sit and argue while we’re balancing, trying to find a peaceful center. The music changes to the local pop station instead of something that is conducive to yoga. Something wrong here?

A few of the poses are particularly painful in my hips, specifically the right side. I modify them. I get a look. LOOK lady, I’m not killing myself to be YOUR star pupil, ok? Then she starts throwing in extras for the people who have been her student for a while; “Option to go into bird of paradise. Option to raise that left leg,” and it’s clear it’s not for our benefit; she’s trying to place us in order of advancement (Which is SO not yogi material). Then, just for laughs, she tells us to transition in to PLOW. With no insight on modifications, nothing. People do it. They’re falling, they’re whimpering because it hurts, and I…well I refused, frankly. I’m not breaking my neck over this, and I’ve got neck issues; I’m a terrible candidate for plow, as are the ladies on either side of me, easily in their 80s. I did another pose, in similar form, so as not to draw attention to myself.

I kept thinking, “just get through the hour, you’ll be happier and feel better,” but I didn’t. I mean, I got through the hour, but I can’t say it was worth it. Then this nice lady comes up to me after, and tells me that if I’m going to use the gym mats, I should use 2, because they are very thin. And if I have one, it’d be better, because they smell, and people snot on them, and they don’t get cleaned very often. Also, I should come ½ hour early on Saturdays, and put my mat down, then go do my circuit, because they fight over real estate in there.

So there it is. My first experience in a yoga class, and I can NOT resign myself that it was normal. I don’t have any respect for this “yogi,” who said she wouldn’t do any poses because a couple of days ago she was doing Crow Pose and kneed herself in the eye, making it black (it wasn’t black). She did do a couple after class when her star pupils talked about themselves; she had to get the attention back so she did a couple to show them how it should be. I’m a bit sore today, but not at all calm. Just irritated. It’s like going to a spa and they play heavy metal music through your massage.

And what is confidence in sunshine anyway?

Vacation, Take me Away!!!

Children live lives of permanent vacation…the days seem long and empty. As we grow, time seems to grow shorter also. Is this because we’re always coming off vacation mode? Or is it because we’ve come off vacation mode so long ago that even when we get the rare vacation (or vacation day), we try to plan out how to maximize our time? Get out the old Excel, boys, we need to do some linear programming on maximizing down time!

I get a discount at the gym if I go 12 times a month. I’m thinking “no problem! That’s like a few times a week.” My friend points out, in her Gen Y tilt of the head (we ALWAYS want the Gen Y opinion), “that’s like every other day.” Suddenly I’m thinking, “A month is so short!” A cycle when all the bills are due, and they always seem to be due too early.

I’ve been in a rut of nose grinding for a while now. So much so, that even when I’m home, I’m freaking out about time. Here’s what goes through my head for the last hour of work: “I’ve got my gym bag in the car. I’ll go to the gym, take my shower there (I HATE my shower, but this is another blog entirely), run home, cook supper, put the dishes away (and some Mondays I get a cheerful pick-me-up) watch “Chuck.” I think we all know I love Chuck by now. I get so worried about getting there, I am stressed out all the way there, imagining phantom cars behind me, riding me, waiting for me to turn left. I just gotta get there. Just be faster, just make better turns, just be…superwoman! Sometimes when I am in this rut, Captain Awesome will point out that I am stressing him out. Or he’ll not be ready to go when I am (really???). I usually try weakly not to freak out, but he says something like, “are you hungry?” and I resent this question (it is akin to “are you PMSing? Here, have some wine), so I turn in to a toddler that says, “No. I’m not hungry…hmmmpf!!!” I usually eat something to appease him, and it turns out I usually am hungry, and apparently this adds to all I’m worried about. Millions of people dying and starving in the world, and I whine about not wanting to be thought of as hungry. But I digress.

So I’m driving along, speeding, needing to be there, when I realize I need to be. Just be. Then my mind laughs out loud….”like Drew Barrymore!!!” In Ever After, when she wears that terrible dress and pulls her hair up and glitters up her face. The camera comes in close to her, from underneath (really?) and she says, “just breathe.” NOT the Drew Barrymore school of acting, which is a fictional place that Captain Awesome and I made up where actors go to learn how to fake cry, but never really graduate; they just make the whiny face and nothing comes out of those stinking tear ducts (sidenote: I saw a commercial, they have eye drops for that).

So time flies by faster and faster, and suddenly one day you realize that It’s been 2 months since you saw your best friend, and you’re not sure how that happened. People don’t even invite you places anymore because the chances of you going are pretty slim. You realize you’ve been devoting all your good energy to something you don’t love, and there doesn’t seem to be energy for things you do. Even at home, on my rare days off, I try to figure out how to maximize my time and still get a little time for myself. Why do I always come in last? No, second to last. My friends seem to always come in last. That sucks, and it’s not OK anymore.

I am one of those people who need time alone and in QUIET to really settle myself, and with neighbors like mine, goals I’ve set, and a boyfriend who works where we live, it’s tough to do. I really need to change my perception about a lot of things, so that I can enjoy the journey a bit more, and live in vacation mode for longer periods of time.

Today’s Song of the Day is

Why so Serious?

"...and Remember, This is for Posterity, So...Be Honest"

How do you feel? We've been digging ourselves out of snowbanks for 3 days (see how hard he's pushing? That, children, is called leverage). The post I wrote on Saturday? Yeah, at 7am, at the START of the great Blizzard of 2010. The roof of the Metrodome collapsed, the cities pulled all the plows off the road because it was too dangerous, and Tim drove a sweet lady to work at the hospital. When he came home, he said it was like Armageddon; trucks and cars sideways in the exit ramps, countless cars in the ditches, insanity. She took an overnight bag. People on Facebook and blogs had all sorts of names for the blizzard: SnOMG and Snomageddon were my favorites. At the end we ended up with 22 inches or so, and then it blew all around in little snow tornadoes all over the place. You could hear it from inside the house (the call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!!!) Incidentally, C. Awesome went through 3 snowblowers. Big ones.

So there you are. Now pictures. :)

Looks harmless, pretty even. But you can't even see where C. Awesome snowblowed...

Where are all the cars, Santa?

Our neighbors. I believe this is their first winter outside of Mexico. They shared their shovels with the Nigerians...Minnesota nice went international on my street.

Even the DOG had to put on his coat.

It went pretty well.  

That's a lot of snow for 8am

.

Contemplating Ancestor's Opinions About Pointless Things.

I decided to walk the dog this morning. It was against my better judgement and my principles of weekend blizzard activities. Today is a day to sit inside and bake gingerbread cookies, and at some point today, I will. You’ll see.

The news has been blaring warnings of 13 inch snowfall for the last 3 days. This excites me, as I have the weekend off (not like 2 weekends ago where the whole world was an ice rink and I slid through an intersection whilst a cop waved at me helpless…true story). I decided whether the snow falls or not, I’m locking myself indoors and baking my amazing soft and chewy gingerbread cookies. If the snow falls, I won’t have TV anyway, because I have satellite, and we all know what happens when a cloud passes over the orbiting metal box. Minnesotans never quite believe the weatherman anyway, and seemed pretty glib about it, only making a run to the liquor store before going home. This is another side of Minnesota I don’t get; quiet, Lutheran Midwesterners who swear in everyday conversations and think, “if it snows, I better go get some booze, cause I’ll just be home shoveling.” Incidentally, it snowed 8 inches overnight, and we’re supposed to see snow until 10:00 tonight. I only know this because of the weather texts sent to my phone, as my TV is…you guessed it; out.

After work yesterday I went and bought everything for gingerbread cookies (I hope), and a friend gave me 6 of her own chickens’ monster sized, fresh and fluffy eggs. I’m excited. But this has nothing to do with walking the dog. Captain Awesome had gotten up at 5 and gone out to snowblow; a tragic endeavor, as it all blew back as soon as he went past. I decided, since he’d been out working since 5 and I was inside drinking tea, I could be nice and take the dog out, a sheltie who LOVES losing himself in snow. I don’t get it; that low to the ground and having to leap everywhere. Maybe he hates it and is forced to leap, giving the impression of winter jollity. I don’t know. Are any of you a dog whisperer?

I got up, pulled my hair into a side braid, thinking about my lovely friend in Norway and a stupid picture we took together once, to show ourselves at our most Scandanavian. I pulled my hat down over my eyes and tied a scarf up to meet my hat. The dog was all excited, running in circles around me, looking for treats, and whining at the snow. This was the moment I realized that I had left my winter boots in my car for the last big snow, about a week and a half ago. Moral dilemma; do I call Captain Awesome and ask him to go get my boots so I can walk the dog? Do I tell him I simply can’t walk the dog and go back to my tea? Do I go get them myself and walk the dog with wet socks (I HATE wet socks)? I tried to wimp out, I texted him, but he couldn’t hear it over the snowblower. I went out the front door (a rarity, I don’t even have a key), walked along the once snowblowed sidewalk, trudged out to my garage (I am so thankful for my garage) and got my boots out of the car. I put them on in the garage and went on my way. It wasn’t so bad. Wind at my back, coat covered in white, dog leaping and bouncing through mountains of fluff. It was actually pretty cute. I started to walk down towards the pond, and the snow quickly climbed to my thighs. I gave in and fell. I really should have made a snow angel…I wonder why I didn’t think of that. Anyway, dog that he is, wouldn’t leave my side to go to the bathroom, so I got back up and we started back.

Ouch. The wind was no longer at my back, and I couldn’t see or hear. My mind immediately went elsewhere so I wouldn’t have to pay attention to the elements. I thought about how my Scandanavian ancestors would be so proud of me (not very likely…”oooooh, you went out in the snow….did you also eat rotten, 8 month old fish you buried?”), and how my Irish ones would think I’m nuts. The German ones would think it’s romantic, and the French ones…I really don’t think they’d care. No clue how my Cherokee ancestors would feel about me trudging out in the snow to walk a dog. Seems kind of small compared to hunting and surviving and the like. To my right, a noise pulled me out of my ponderings. Then I realized it was the sound of my snowpants, I just hadn’t been able to hear until I got to a wind-less place.

Poor Captain Awesome, still out there at almost 9, snowblowing into futility. Maybe I’ll make those peanut butter cookies with the Reese’s in them….I need Reese’s.
So I made it back home, came in the back door (because I had my boots!) and noticed that I had left the front door wide open in my snow-shock. Nothing like going for a 15 minute walk and letting all the heat out on a snowy Saturday morning. You know you’ve been there.

Today’s song of the day should be no surprise. I'm sorry about the way it looks. Grooveshark and I have had a serious falling out, and they now offer a lot less for a lot more work. And they don't save anything for you anymore. Boo.

Fall Morning Walk

I haven't written for some time, as I have been quite physically miserable for the last 3 weeks or so. I am now starting to feel better. But that is another blog for another time.

It's fall. I can not deny it. Not that I want to, I love fall. I know it's a time of death and preparation for destitution, but it's so lovely. How brilliant it can look! To me it's more like a rebirth, a phoenix blazing with flames that will rise again.

I got up to walk the dog this morning and there was frost on the ground; sharp and rigid, yet soft, like manna that just appeared overnight. The sun was rising at the time, and created this fog over the frost. It was lovely. Of course the dog had no care, but to pee on it. Bygones.


The sad thing about frost is that it goes away so quickly. It creates a half hour of beauty, and then is melted away, dripping down into the roots in the grasses. If you get up too late, you will miss the sight of sun hitting frost, making fog. I don't know. It's just so magical; it makes you realize why people made up fairy stories and other magical tales.


I just had to share, because I love fall, and the first frost is kind of a big deal. I brought in a few of my plants yesterday, and have a couple more to bring in today. This brings up another item of progress; my tolerance of spiders. I hate spiders. Like many of you, they freak me out and the thought of them crawling on me is unbearable. I try not to kill them, but let them be. Last year when I brought in the plants for the winter (a sad happening; they always dwindle. It's like I'm sentencing them to prison, being inside), I got an influx of insects. They drove me absolutely batty, little gnat-type flies buzzing around my face. We started not killing the spiders, and lo and behold, our insect problem went away. I'm sure there is some genius way to bring in plants for the winter, like changing out the dirt, but you live and learn. So we have 2 spiders in the living room and one in the basement. Captain Awesome discovered the one in the basement that is a large, hairy, jumping spider. He came crawling out one day and C.Awesome pointed at him, making him curl up in that spider ball, and said, "you can stay, but you earn your keep." And I'll be darned if that spider didn't nod, and scurry back under the dryer. As an added bonus, the spiders are not eating the crickets, so we still have summer sounds in the basement. Nice.
So there you are; my randomness this morning. My stream of conciousness regarding fall, spiders, and life. And here are some photos from this morning's jaunt.







Today's song of the day is:


I just like the cadence, and it's about time for a change :) This song needs to be so much longer.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

Last week was hot. I mean Minnesota summer hot. It was sticky, impossible to enjoy; the kind of day where you leave for work at 6:15am and you feel like you're breathing in water (this is the main reason I don't live in India today. I'm sure you were wondering). Of course my air conditioner in the car was on the fritz, and when I called the mechanic (the LOVELY boys at vroom), I wasn't even sure what to tell them. It went something like this, "It's working, it just doesn't seem to be at full capacity. Unless it is and it's just so hot I can't tell, like there's no winning in this situation..." for about 15 minutes, probably. Anyway, for you boys and techies, it was a pound low on free-on. Can we move on now? :P

I came home from work one day last week and could not wait to get out of my clothes; too hot to wear so many clothes plus an apron to work. I went to the kitchen sink to wash my hands (I love the way I turn clean water brown when I wash my hands after work...I really feel like an effective hand-washer), and there was a common toad in the sink.

Now, this shouldn't really surprise any of you. But what made this interesting is that I had just spoken with my dear friend, Didi. I was telling her how hard it is to go out to eat when you always go out with someone who is deathly allergic to onions. She told me about this little Indian place in Minneapolis on Central that cooks Jain food. Now of course I had to look into this, and to why it would matter to me (or C.Awesome, who secretly hates curry). Turns out, Jain is a sect of the Hindu religion that believes life in all of it's forms is valuable. They only eat sustainable food, nothing they have to kill to eat, even vegetables like onions and garlic (because the root is what you eat, and that is it's life). They live to never offend anyone and wear a lot of white. Apparently their version of Karma is a little different, but I can't remember how. So C.Awesome was intrigued by this idea, as it is basically the rules of his made up land, "Timtopia," with the exception that in Timtopia, if someone is a big jerk face, the rest of the people have the right to kill him...or something. It's self policing, I remember that much, and there is a lot of emphasis on underwater basket weaving. But I digress.

There was a note on the counter about there being a toad in the sink. Turns out, Captain Awesome had found the toad on the sidewalk, dehydrated, and unable to get out of the burning sun. He put it in the sink to cool it and rehydrate it. Cool.

As the day went on, we noticed that his right side had been crushed, apparently by someone stepping on him. He had a collapsed lung and his right arm didn't seem to be in socket. We are told we are hilarious when this stuff happens, because immediately we take action. C.Awesome went and found an aquarium, we put foliage in there from the turtle's terrarium, and real ferns from our plant collection. We tilted the aquarium slightly so there was water on one side and dry on the other. We researched online and found that often toads and frogs will heal if left alone, and may not eat for a few days. So we monitored him from afar and left him on the kitchen table. The next day C.Awesome went and bought crickets from the pet shop in case he got hungry.



The crickets immediately got out, except for a few larger ones. The toad didn't seem all that interested anyway, and when we began to corral the crickets back in, they crawled right over his nose and he didn't make a move. We kept him for three days, and he showed progress, but that right arm began to shrivel, and it was clear he was not going to have use of it. I did call the Wildlife Rehab Center and left a message, somehow believing that toads may be below their list of concerned animal rehabilitation options. They called me back the next day in a bored voice and left a message for me to call them back. Nah. They weren't going to do anything different than I was, and I've have interesting experiences putting Ferrel animals in cars and driving them around.

On the fourth day, we decided to put him out in the backyard and see if he was well enough to be free, or if we should bring him inside, but in any case, he needed sun and fresh air. As soon as we put him down, he began to hop around; his back right leg had completely healed and he seemed to not really need that right arm as much as one might imagine. He hunkered down in the grass and we watched him watch the world for a while. Then we put him safely in our garden where we knew there were other toads and went inside.

So now, a week later, I have two male crickets; one in the basement and one on the main floor. It's odd, having crickets in the house, but at least they aren't following me around anymore. I see no problem with it. In China they are considered good luck. I even moved my lucky bamboo to the southwest corner of my most used room. Apparently that should help me win the lottery, according to the ancient art of Feng Shui. :P

So I sit here, on a Sunday morning, with the patio door open, listening to crickets chirp in the basement, and birds chirping on the patio, and I am content. So, if your kid wants a pet, or your house is too quiet, I suggest you run out to the pet store and spend 2 bucks on a little pile of crickets. It's like camping all the time.


Today's Song of the day is


Because it's a great song, and it's by Toad the Wet Sprocket. And because I woke up with it in my head today.




And here's a Poem by Charles Dickens, though my toad fared better than his.

Can I view thee panting, lying
On thy stomach, without sighing;
Can I unmoved see they dying
On a log,
Expiring frog!

Say, have fiends in shape of boys,
With wild hallo, and brutal noise,
Hunted thee from marshy joys,
With a dog,
Expiring frog!

The Tick - Worst Thing on the Planet? Survey says....YES!

Did I tell you I had a tick on me last week? I had a tick on me. It was on my lower back, and I thought I was going to throw up. Ticks may be nothing to you, especially you in the South, who find enjoyment in the hunt and demise of ticks; I lived in Michigan. I heard of ticks, but never once saw one, and I was quite the Xylana. If I were to ever be on the show "Fear Factor" (uh-oh, she just dated herself), I would have to go home at the site of multiple ticks. Ticks are only good on cartoons and TV shows, and I hope you get that reference (in my mind I am hearing the distant cry of "Batmanuel!").

I don't mean to be a nature basher. I love nature. Save the whales and polar bears. Heck, I don't even scare rabbits and squirrels out of my garden, and I have a nest of yellow jackets that coexist quite peacefully with me and my brood of pets. I even stopped killing spiders. But come ON, what is the biological reason for a tick!?!?! Creationist, evolutionist, alienist, I don't care what you believe, you can't come up with a good reason for the existence of ticks. Can you imagine being the creature that is known for spreading disease? Can this creature really exist just to "thin out" populations of animals and people? I shudder. SHUDDER, I tell you.

So, here is my thought on how ticks came to be.

Ticks were actually formed as spiders, but they lacked the desire to create webs up high where insects would be prone to become ensnared (evil is often lazy in this regard). They also felt the fine web material they released to be beneath them and thought other insects and arachnids would see them as feminine. They formed a posse and decided, for the good of the group, which of COURSE was inherently evil, they would breed with insects and take off the extra two legs of their offspring, as in a ceremonial mass bris type situation (this in NO way implies that Jewish people are evil. We are talking ticks, the bane of existence. I am not speaking in metaphor). After 3 generations of breeding with insects (poor insects...didn't see the ticks coming like Vikings across the sea), they lost their silk, and, having really no place to live, settled in low lying, wet and cool areas (this is the reason I am so happy to have a dryer today). They then bit each other in territorial wars, and realized they had a penchant for blood, but ticks really didn't supply enough (ohhh, they're vampires!), and they realized cannibalizing their own tribe was detrimental to the population (oh my gosh, a tick realized something! The horn of destiny honks!). They began their experiments of terror, biting and latching on to ducks and birds (can you imagine living off someone else's blood? Ewwwww). They would not be stopped (evil is often ambitious in this regard), and continued to campaign across creation for thousands of years, swelling to the size of golf balls (gluttony) and eventually dying of obesity (ha ha ha ha ha).

I have no end to the story, as there are still ticks, but my hope is that one day every tick in the world is attracted to a trojan horse of some kind, and they all latch on to eat, and none of them survive the engorging. I mean, seriously, with all these vampire books and movies, we actually have a creature that only dies when set on fire to implode. Wow, this post got kind of gross.

Anyway, I hate ticks. Could you tell?

Today's song of the day is Based on quotes from the Tick (the live action show from 2001), in an attempt to assuage my passion against ticks.

"You're on a first name basis with lucidity, little friend. I have to call it "mister" lucidity... and that's no good in a pinch."

"Gravity is a harsh mistress"

"Death. The eternal blink. The capricious dance of Now Ya Stop Movin' Forever. Well contrary to popular belief, death isn't just for dead people. It can happen to anyone. I know, it's news to me too. And it's not just people either, it's all kinds of stuff. Horses, fiddler crabs. Did you know that even a potato... can die?"

"When society says jump, we say pass the salt"

So, a snippit of a song. It's "Hey, Mr. Caution" by Eddie Constantine.

Hmmmmm. I can't seem to post the file. LAME. Like ticks. I will figure out something else.

well, here is another song. Today's song of the day is NOW: