18 Hours on the Couch
Wednesday, Aug. 16, 2006 @ 3:22 p.m.

I love this story. It's a giant flower that smells terrible. Let's line up for a whiff! Yay for decay! It's very visually...awkward as well. Poor corpse flower gets no love.

Okay, can I just say how fucking sick I am of everyone being blessed? Blessed is the new lucky, my friends, and I want it to die already. Just...stop...saying....it. Stop it, movie stars. Stop it, Star-freaking-Jones. Stop saying it, rich folks. Stop saying it because it makes you all sound like a bunch of assholes. You might as well be saying, Im far more special than you and because of this God has showered me with fame and fortune. I recognize and celebrate this fact.

I expect to hear it now every single time a celebrity is interviewed on television. "I'm just so BLESSED." No! No, you're not, famous person. You're lucky, or connected, or you slept with all the right (or wrong) people. Or maybe, just maybe, you have a definable talent or really good genes. Either way, it has nothing to do with blessings, okay? God, assuming there is one, does not love Naomi Campbell more than you. (If he did, he'd probably make her suck less with her Whitney-type-crazy, but that's just my opinion. )

Anyway, you all know how I feel about this, so think before you start talking about how freaking blessed you are. This goes for Gwen Stefani who I loved until she mentioned in an interview how very, very blessed she is. LORD ABOVE. Is it not enough that you're fabulous and rich and talented? Now you're blessed too?

Anyway, glad I got that off my chest. You all know how I feel about the mail room guy already, so I won't even go into it even though it's relevant.

*****

This weekend Kenny and I are going to witness the craziness known as 18th Hours on the Farm. It's an 18 hour bike race. Yes, that's right, people are crazy enough to ride for 18 hours, which involves, among other things, riding in the woods at night and a very, very sore ass.

Some folks ride in teams but most are gluttons for pain and prefer to ride it solo. THIS IS CRAZY TO ME. Unless there's a ten-hour nap break somewhere in the middle of that, I'm not doing it. Apparently this is an unpopular opinion I have because people keep trying to convince me that I'm missing out big time. "It's fun!" "It's like a party!" "There's a big breakfast afterwards!"

Okay, let's take this argument point-by-point:

1. Fun? This is debatable. During a race I have never thought, "WOW THIS IS THE BEST TIME OF MY LIFE. WOO!" Mostly the fun part is afterwards. 18 hours is a long time to wait for the afterwards.

2. I will be joining the party of spectators. That is enough of a party for me.

3. I have breakfast food at home. Also at home: a shower, a bed, television, air conditioning.

They're almost cult-like in their devotion to suffering for long stretches of time and pretending like it's Big Fun. Well you know what? I'm not white-washing that fence, suckers. I was not born yesterday. There is no way IN HELL I'm riding my mountain bike for 18 hours, many of which will be at night. No. Way. I have crazy respect for those that do, but three hours is my limit on the bike. After that I cry and there's no crying in mountain biking.

I get the same crazed reaction when I decline the idea of night-riding. What, daylight isn't cool enough for you guys? Sheesh. For those who haven't done it, night riding involves strapping an incredibly expensive lighting system on your bike and riding around in the woods in the dark. Cool! You know what else hangs out in the woods at night? Everything bitey. See also: monsters, Blair witches, stuff I don't want to know about.

As with the 18 hour race, other bikers start talking about how FUN night riding is and how I'm TOTALLY MISSING OUT. Really? Because no. I don't care. Riding during the day is totally enough fun for this girl and duct-taping a mini Mag-Lite on my helmet doesn't sound like good times to me. What's with all the peer pressure? I don't get it.

Anyway, if you're completing in the 18 Hour race, more power to you. I'll be the clean, dry, beer-drinking girl cheering you on from the sidelines. The one missing out on all the fun. Haha. Sucker.

(It's been a pretty crappy week, so if I sound extra-cranky, that's why.)

6 chatty monkeys

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