Apparently the way to your heart, dear Internet, is to blog about Intervention. (I love you Jeff, call me!) I had record page views last night, which makes me happy and sad. Happy because people found the little hole I carved out of cyberspace; sad because nowhere near as many people read when I blather on and on about running and beer.
That said, commence blathering.
I just inhaled a big, fat slice of banana bread with Nutella on it. Literally. I chopped it into rails and snorted it up my nose.
No, but it was quite possibly the best thing I’ve had all week. Maybe all month. (Which gives me a good blog idea: the best recipes of 2009…coming soon to Cheaper Than Therapy).
I was going to take a picture of it but when I whipped out my camera I realized the memory card is still sitting at home, nestled safely in the SD card slot of my PC…Balls.
Anyhoo, since its a whopping 13° outside, I thought I’d hit the gym instead of the trails today. (Gah, did I actually complain when it was 30 outside? What was I thinking?)
After a particularly disturbing episode of Intervention (okay, she was no Cristy, but she did drink her some blueberry vodka like it was goin’ out of style), we watched the Bears beat (yes, BEAT) the Vikings in OT, 36-30.
Rarely do I stay up for Monday Night Football in its entirety. I’m like an old lady – I take a hot bath and climb into bed with a cup of tea and a book around 9:30 and by 10:00 I am sacked out. But since I had $5 riding on this game and our boys were actually holding their own against the Vikes, I simply could not go to sleep until it was over. (I lost the money, but who’d have thought the Bears would actually WIN?!) So, I ended up getting about 5 hours of sleep but it was so.worth.it. When the camera went to Adrian Peterson, standing there all frowny-faced and shocked on the sidelines, my heart sang. I couldn’t find that particular picture of him online – if anyone can find it, let me know. I wanna frame it and hang it above the mantle.
I know it is too little, too late as far as the Bears season goes, but I still took comfort in Minnesota’s misery. Isn’t there a saying that goes, “every time Brett Favre cries, someone gets mauled by a bear…” or something like that? (Maybe not.)
And, I promise tomorrow I’m going to get back to what this blog is supposed to be about: running, food, drinking, you know, the basics.
Have a great day –