Long story short: I’ve taken up running.
. . . .
Okay, that didn’t quite fill up the page the way I’d hoped, so long story long.
NOTE: This all happened before I moved, just in case someone actually read an earlier blog and asks an obvious question.
So, there I was chasing a ninja. The little bastard ambushed me when I was making breakfast (ie, putting cereal in a bowl) and after a brief, but brutal, Captain Crunch-filled exchange, made a run for it. I ended up chasing him through the apartment complex with a box of cereal in one hand and a bust of Scipio Africanus in the other.
Yes, I have a bust of Scipio Africanus in my kitchen.
Needless to say, after about fifty-yards, I was gasping for air and reduced to the occasional rude gesture. The ninja decided to rub it in and run circles around me, doing that weird ‘arms straight back’ run they do and laughing.
Suffice to say I had the last laugh when a car backed into him. I had a last, last laugh when I hit him with the aforementioned bust as he was trying to get up.
Ultimately though, the entire incident was a humbling experience. Not only did a ninja laugh at me, I had been making breakfast while only wearing a pair of what one might call ‘whimsically’ decorated boxers that I’m sure my neighbors appreciated.
I decided then and there that I needed to get into better shape. Not only to catch ninjas, but to at least look decent when I end up in the parking lot at 9:00 am in my underwear and carrying the bust of a celebrated Roman general.
Anyway, I’ve been running for a couple of months now on the treadmills at the gym. I bought some nice running shoes, a pair of shorts and one of those high-tech shirts that somehow eats your sweat (or something). And I can honestly say that running is really, really boring.
Granted, road running might be more interesting, but I don’t want to run in the rain, so I’m reduced to treadmills at the gym. They have little TVs in them, but no speakers, so it’s really hard to read the closed-captioning while bouncing up and down (and gasping and swearing).
The whole trick, I understand, is to learn how to detach your brain and just let your body run. This seems to be harder than it sounds, as I have no trouble detaching my brain at any other time, say in meetings, while driving, pugilism, etc. However, actually trying to detach my brain is proving difficult. If anyone has any fool-proof methods, let me know.
Anyway, I haven’t had a chance to chase any ninjas lately, but hopefully the next time it happens he’ll be eating Roman marble faster than he can say ‘Hannibal.’
Cheers,
-Jason
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The Scourge of Man: Part 3
It is done.
I moved. I spent the better part of last week frantically doing last minute packing. I had reached that point where I really didn’t care where things wound up, just as long as they were in a box, garbage bag, or down the front of my pants.
This necessitated me saying (more than once) ‘why yes, that is a mace in my pants.’
Of course, this is why I keep finding things like underwear in my microwave and live ammunition in a box marked ‘impale with spear.’
NOTE: I marked boxes like that so the ninjas would not hide in them. I then impaled (or sometimes bludgeoned, as per the mace comment above) any box not marked. Any box that screamed or bled was thrown away. Once the boxes were safely in the truck, I tear-gassed the whole load anyway, just to be safe.
Anyway, after a frantic day of moving things into the truck, me, my brother Rick and my best bud Sean all piled into said truck the next morning and drove five hours to my new domicile, where we then unloaded all the boxes we just put in.
And then we went to Red Robin and ate burgers. We also apologized to the waitress for the constant giggling. We were up at 5 am, drove for 5 hours, and then unloaded a 22-foot truck. We were allowed to giggle.
So, here I am, typing my very first blog in my new apartment, which still doesn’t smell or have blood stains on the ceiling. Both of these conditions will be fixed soon enough. I have also started a new job (Octopus Strangler), but more on that later.
I’ve managed to unpack about 80% of the boxes, which are now piled neatly in the middle of my kitchen. The rest of the boxes are strewn about, as I haven’t quite figured out what to do with the contents. I mean, you don’t just toss a 23-piece collection of Yeti tibias on a counter and call it good. You have to think about these sorts of things. And by consider, I mean stare at a wall with your head slightly tilted until you get a headache and decide to watch TV instead.
And now, for a serious note: a big thanks goes out to Laura aka Longhair, who helped pack the truck. Thanks also goes to my big bro Rick aka Rick and my best bud Sean aka Sir Blue Pants, who made the drive and helped pack and unpack as well.
And another thanks goes out to the crew from Redmond: Leigh, Laura, Sean, Devon, James, Leah, Ugdo, Stan, Eric, Beth, and Doug, who sent me off in style. Fair warning: I will be back.
Cheers,
-Jason
I moved. I spent the better part of last week frantically doing last minute packing. I had reached that point where I really didn’t care where things wound up, just as long as they were in a box, garbage bag, or down the front of my pants.
This necessitated me saying (more than once) ‘why yes, that is a mace in my pants.’
Of course, this is why I keep finding things like underwear in my microwave and live ammunition in a box marked ‘impale with spear.’
NOTE: I marked boxes like that so the ninjas would not hide in them. I then impaled (or sometimes bludgeoned, as per the mace comment above) any box not marked. Any box that screamed or bled was thrown away. Once the boxes were safely in the truck, I tear-gassed the whole load anyway, just to be safe.
Anyway, after a frantic day of moving things into the truck, me, my brother Rick and my best bud Sean all piled into said truck the next morning and drove five hours to my new domicile, where we then unloaded all the boxes we just put in.
And then we went to Red Robin and ate burgers. We also apologized to the waitress for the constant giggling. We were up at 5 am, drove for 5 hours, and then unloaded a 22-foot truck. We were allowed to giggle.
So, here I am, typing my very first blog in my new apartment, which still doesn’t smell or have blood stains on the ceiling. Both of these conditions will be fixed soon enough. I have also started a new job (Octopus Strangler), but more on that later.
I’ve managed to unpack about 80% of the boxes, which are now piled neatly in the middle of my kitchen. The rest of the boxes are strewn about, as I haven’t quite figured out what to do with the contents. I mean, you don’t just toss a 23-piece collection of Yeti tibias on a counter and call it good. You have to think about these sorts of things. And by consider, I mean stare at a wall with your head slightly tilted until you get a headache and decide to watch TV instead.
And now, for a serious note: a big thanks goes out to Laura aka Longhair, who helped pack the truck. Thanks also goes to my big bro Rick aka Rick and my best bud Sean aka Sir Blue Pants, who made the drive and helped pack and unpack as well.
And another thanks goes out to the crew from Redmond: Leigh, Laura, Sean, Devon, James, Leah, Ugdo, Stan, Eric, Beth, and Doug, who sent me off in style. Fair warning: I will be back.
Cheers,
-Jason
The Scourge of Man: Part 3
It is done.
I moved. I spent the better part of last week frantically doing last minute packing. I had reached that point where I really didn’t care where things wound up, just as long as they were in a box, garbage bag, or down the front of my pants.
This necessitated me saying (more than once) ‘why yes, that is a mace in my pants.’
Of course, this is why I keep finding things like underwear in my microwave and live ammunition in a box marked ‘impale with spear.’
NOTE: I marked boxes like that so the ninjas would not hide in them. I then impaled (or sometimes bludgeoned, as per the mace comment above) any box not marked. Any box that screamed or bled was thrown away. Once the boxes were safely in the truck, I tear-gassed the whole load anyway, just to be safe.
Anyway, after a frantic day of moving things into the truck, me, my brother Rick and my best bud Sean all piled into said truck the next morning and drove five hours to my new domicile, where we then unloaded all the boxes we just put in.
And then we went to Red Robin and ate burgers. We also apologized to the waitress for the constant giggling. We were up at 5 am, drove for 5 hours, and then unloaded a 22-foot truck. We were allowed to giggle.
So, here I am, typing my very first blog in my new apartment, which still doesn’t smell or have blood stains on the ceiling. Both of these conditions will be fixed soon enough. I have also started a new job (Octopus Strangler), but more on that later.
I’ve managed to unpack about 80% of the boxes, which are now piled neatly in the middle of my kitchen. The rest of the boxes are strewn about, as I haven’t quite figured out what to do with the contents. I mean, you don’t just toss a 23-piece collection of Yeti tibias on a counter and call it good. You have to think about these sorts of things. And by consider, I mean stare at a wall with your head slightly tilted until you get a headache and decide to watch TV instead.
And now, for a serious note: a big thanks goes out to Laura aka Longhair, who helped pack the truck. Thanks also goes to my big bro Rick aka Rick and my best bud Sean aka Sir Blue Pants, who made the drive and helped pack and unpack as well.
And more thanks goes out to the crew from Redmond: Leigh, Laura, Sean, Devon, James, Leah, Ugdo, Stan, Eric, Beth, and Doug, who sent me off in style. Fair warning: I will be back.
Cheers,
-Jason
I moved. I spent the better part of last week frantically doing last minute packing. I had reached that point where I really didn’t care where things wound up, just as long as they were in a box, garbage bag, or down the front of my pants.
This necessitated me saying (more than once) ‘why yes, that is a mace in my pants.’
Of course, this is why I keep finding things like underwear in my microwave and live ammunition in a box marked ‘impale with spear.’
NOTE: I marked boxes like that so the ninjas would not hide in them. I then impaled (or sometimes bludgeoned, as per the mace comment above) any box not marked. Any box that screamed or bled was thrown away. Once the boxes were safely in the truck, I tear-gassed the whole load anyway, just to be safe.
Anyway, after a frantic day of moving things into the truck, me, my brother Rick and my best bud Sean all piled into said truck the next morning and drove five hours to my new domicile, where we then unloaded all the boxes we just put in.
And then we went to Red Robin and ate burgers. We also apologized to the waitress for the constant giggling. We were up at 5 am, drove for 5 hours, and then unloaded a 22-foot truck. We were allowed to giggle.
So, here I am, typing my very first blog in my new apartment, which still doesn’t smell or have blood stains on the ceiling. Both of these conditions will be fixed soon enough. I have also started a new job (Octopus Strangler), but more on that later.
I’ve managed to unpack about 80% of the boxes, which are now piled neatly in the middle of my kitchen. The rest of the boxes are strewn about, as I haven’t quite figured out what to do with the contents. I mean, you don’t just toss a 23-piece collection of Yeti tibias on a counter and call it good. You have to think about these sorts of things. And by consider, I mean stare at a wall with your head slightly tilted until you get a headache and decide to watch TV instead.
And now, for a serious note: a big thanks goes out to Laura aka Longhair, who helped pack the truck. Thanks also goes to my big bro Rick aka Rick and my best bud Sean aka Sir Blue Pants, who made the drive and helped pack and unpack as well.
And more thanks goes out to the crew from Redmond: Leigh, Laura, Sean, Devon, James, Leah, Ugdo, Stan, Eric, Beth, and Doug, who sent me off in style. Fair warning: I will be back.
Cheers,
-Jason
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