T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o
Six Martinis, the Unspoken, Racing, Singing, and Dancing
|2006-04-03† Ė† 5:42 p.m.|
Friday night looked like it would be a stinker, but I was proven wrong. When a friend corrected me in saying that she was headed to the burbs on the following night, we got together to drink wine at her place and see what would come of the evening. If nothing else, we could grab some sushi and get drunk off the Shiraz-Cabernet mix.
We found someone else who was in town and looking for some fun, so we met for appetizers and a couple martinis at one place. Then, because the phone would not stop ringing, we headed to one of our usual haunts where pretty much everyone showed up, making it an official Girlís Night Out (plus some boys too).
After part of a burrito, I cabbed it home for some shut-eye.
The next morning I bounced awake and headed to the running store for my racing teamís uniform. I nixed the tiny sports bra, on account that they were too tiny, and left with a decently fitted sweat-wicking racing top. Itís not my idea of a fun shirt, but it works.
My friend Oz and I met up at Navy Pier to pick up our packets for the following dayís race. There was a cheerleading competition going on that I was tempted to stay and watch, but the up-close views of the girls was too much for me.
Fake ponytails. Gooped-on makeup. Uniforms that showed more of a ten-year-old than should be shown.
Iím really only interested in the athleticism of college competitions anyway, so I headed home for some rest. I watched a Netflix about the small town guy who is a hero with amnesia or something. Thumbs down. A History of Violence isnít worth watching unless youíre staring at how attractive the main guy is.
There were only three short scenes of fighting, so of course itís going to get a thumbs-down from me. I like gratuitous karate and explosions. So be it.
That night I headed somewhere with someone to do something and got home late.
No, itís not what youíre thinking.
With my alarm set and the clocks double-checked, I went to sleep with hopes that Iíd get some rest. A few short hours later, I was awake with as much vim and vigor as I could muster at 6 a.m. to get ready for the first race of the season.
Four friends met up at my place to walk to the starting area, and we all ran strong races. Oz and I run our races together, and we did quite well for this being the race to get all of the cobwebs out of our systems. We hit a few bottlenecks and got stuck behind plenty of slow people, so our times were lower than what I expected. Thereís always the next race, though.
Having an easy run at this distance, despite minimal training and several monkeyís wrenches thrown in since January, makes me even more motivated to ship-shape my running routine and hit the pavement even more.
Iím JOtivated. Har har.
After the race a few friends and I went to lunch. The food was something to forget, but my Bloody Mary with no ice was so freaking good. It was just what I was hoping for. Next time Iíll stick to menu items I already know about and enjoy a plate of carbs with my drink full of carbs.
After a much-needed shower, I fought off sleep by watching Walk the Line. The acting was so frigginí good, and I enjoyed the story.
I didnít think it made Johnny Cashís first wife look like a shrew at all, like some claims made by her children. She seemed exhausted and sick and tired of Johnnyís crap. Much like I commented about the movie Ray, any husband of mine would have found himself of the losing end of some poisoned lima beans long before Iíd put up with any of that crap.
When I watch movies, I keep my finger on the remoteís fast-forward button. I watched the two main character sing together once, said, ďOh, thatís nice,Ē and then fast-forwarded through the later parts where they did much of the same.
I watched all of Run Lola Run in fast-forward when I realized I could read the subtitles and know what was going on without having to listen to the untz-untz music.
I could watch Brokeback Mountain in about 15 minutes if I ever rented it.
It would seem that patience is not something I possess...
That evening I went to a very long chorus rehearsal where I sang, danced, and got ridiculously tired. I donít see how I can run high mileage several days a week but run a single race at a similar pace and feel so wiped.
By time I got home I was so tired that sleep didnít come easily and this morning came too quickly. I hope everyone had a good Monday.
Iím off to a new hobby that Iíll tell you about tomorrow. †