A Girl Needs Sleep Or She'll Be A Zombie

Fell asleep in the running store today before the run. Don't worry, I set my phone alarm.

Woke up and found this picture waiting for me in my messages. That's the love of my life, right there. Too bad she's RunnerJen's dog, not mine.

Tobacco Road Marathon

I've been avoiding this conversation, one-sided as it is, because I came off the finish line elated, and then I crashed down, and I've spent the last few days pretending to be an emotional yo-yo about all of it.

When I was a kid I was really into yo-yos despite lacking the coordination and discipline to do real tricks. There was a revival of yo-yos about this time, and all these new technological yo-yo advances to make my yo-yo experience more... yo-yo-y. I had one called The Screamer. When you hurled it down to the ground (provided it was on purpose and not in frustration because WALK DAMN YOU I JUST WANT TO WALK THE FREAKING DOG) it made a goddawful screaming/squeaking/begging for mercy noise. My yo-yo emotions weren't like that. There was no screaming. Just some sulking.

I did not PR, is what I was sulking about.

I should have; I'm in hands-down better shape now, and I know a little better what I'm doing, and my long runs were much better/faster, and... basically, it all boils down to the fact that while I was ready-so-ready, so was summertime.

The temperature was definitely over 65*. The Hideous Coursemaster says that when he checked the weather on his smartphone after, it was 90% humidity. The side stitches I battled for a lot of the race concur. I didn't think about it that way at the time, though. See, when I run, I feel like I'm in control of everything. So any side cramping was because I wasn't breathing right, or I was out of shape, or something. I probably slowed down a lot. I still kept the race at negative splits but it was a near thing.

I don't like to blame the weather for my bad race. But it was a factor and I have to allow for that to feel okay about myself.

Also, in actuality, I didn't have a BAD race. I ran 3:53:40, which is sub-4 and that's really my goal for every race. I got 9th in my Age Group (F20-24) and 277th overall.

Most importantly, I beat the guy running in a Ninja Turtle Costume.

Yes, there was a guy running while dressed as a Ninja Turtle. In fact, in this exact costume:

His only modification was to cut the legs into shorts. It pisses me off immeasurably when people run like it's a joke. He was running with the 3:45 pace group the first time I saw him, so I was extremely worried that some asshole dressed as Rafael was going to kick my ass. But I kicked his.

Any time I feel eh about Sunday, I just repeat to myself, "9th in your age group, beat the Ninja Turtle, did not throw up nor want to."

It has to do.

Also, yesterday I went mountain biking for the first time, and holy cow is that fun. Really scary, really hard, and really fun. I started laughing over the first downhill and Bike Dad called back, "What are you laughing at?" I was just laughing at the fun. And the fear. Because, wow, it's basically falling the whole time but not.

As a public service announcement.

Reptar is apparently really bad at keeping time. Even though I clearly put "March 18th, 7AM" in the countdown clock maker place thingy, he thinks the marathon is three days away. Today is... well, now it's Wednesday. One day, Thursday. Two days, Friday. Three days, Saturday. Six hours and seventeen minutes, 7AM.

Ergo, Reptar is one day off and needs to stop making me panic every five seconds. I have a paper to finish, an exam to study for, and also some sleep to get.

Hang on a second.

That means 4 days.

4 days.

OMGWTFBBQ HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!

I have to go hide now. But I already had this copied and pasted in here, so my panicking doesn't mean you can't have something to do in my absence.

Review: Mega Python vs Gatoroid

I should start by saying this is the best movie ever.

When I say "best movie ever," I'm saying it with a slightly manic, glazed-eye expression. I have Nutella smeared all over my face and I haven't been able to stop waving my hands around in glee for about fifteen minutes. I may need psychiatric evaluation.

But, then again, I'm watching a movie called Mega Python vs Gatoroid, starring Debbie Gibson and Tiffany.

Oh, yes. Debbie Gibson and Tiffany. This is one of those rare things that I had never even considered until just now, but now clearly understand that it is absolutely necessary for human existence. There are no words to tell you how amazing this movie is. All I can do is tell you what happens in it, and you can judge for yourself.

First the cast.

If Tiffany looked any happier, I don't think I could stand it. I mean, try to be sad while looking at this picture.

She is playing a park ranger. Named Terry, I think, though to be honest I just called her Tiffany in my head for the whole movie and that worked out pretty well.

Debbie Gibson looking like woah.

Seriously, how much hotter than Electric Youth is she?

This is the most important person. Ms Fucking Landingham. That's right.

So, here's the "plot" of this "movie."

Debbie Gibson is an environmentalist with the word 'doctor' in front of her name. I'm not sure that means she's a scientist but she and her friends let a bunch of pet snakes loose in the Everglades. For, like, reasons.

Tiffany is, as discussed, a park ranger. She is kinda against the whole 'invasive species' thing and when the snakes turn out to be giant endangerers of habitat she declares it 'snake season' in the park. In possibly the best meet-cute in cinema history, she and Debbie Gibson have a Bugs Bunny/Daffy Duck-off. "Snake season!" "Gater season!" "Snake season!" "NOTHING season! PETA FOREVER I HAVE A DOCTORATE!"

It's immediately true love.

For me, I mean. The moment Debbie Gibson looked Tiffany square in the face and asked if she had had bitch for breakfast, I knew this movie was gold.

So the giant snakes somehow take everything over, and kill Tiffany's merkin in the process. So she decides the best thing to do would be to get a bunch of steroids - including an experimental myostatin blocker - from Ms Landingham's nephew and feed them to the alligators.

Thus, Gatoroid.

What I personally don't understand is why this movie isn't Mega PythonS vs GatoroidS. There are hundreds of both of them. Also, I don't understand why they didn't just call this "Debbie Gibson and Tiffany" because honestly that's all I care about.

Well, that and Tiffany's boobs, which spend most of the movie trying desperately to get their own page on IMDB.

You're welcome.

The climax of this movie is the best catfight in the history of catfights. Debbie Gibson and Tiffany fearlessly wrest the title away from Dolly Parton and Queen Latifah in Joyful Noise. Ladies and gentleman, I give you this still:

While they're making out/catfighting (Debbie Gibson at one point grabs a handful of cake and smears it quite deliberately over Tiffany's cleavage), everyone else gets eaten by mega pythons and gatoroids.

They eventually stop fighting and it's really quiet and they're waist-deep in a pond, dripping wet, covered in cake and sesame noodles and running mascara, and Debbie Gibson says, "I think... we're alone now."

Tiffany agrees, "There doesn't seem to be anyone around."

You have to see this movie.