Oh, hi. I’m Marie. I’m a functioning alcoholic and a heel-striker. Thanks for stopping by my depraved, little corner of the interwebz.
I currently type on keyboards in Indianapolis, where power brokers and corn farmers live together in harmony. I like it just fine, but I wasn’t born here and if you call me a Hoosier I will eat your face.
I’m a mom, a runner, a writer, a connoisseur, an instigator and a pleasantly furious counterculturist with just a few more things to say before my untimely collision with a Mack truck.
I talk a big game, but I have absolutely no certification, accreditation or qualification for anything I talk about in this blog. Just read it and don’t ask questions.
Sometimes I will post pictures of particularly disgusting or delightful foods I eat. But this is meant to be a humor blog and not one of those “healthy living” blogs, so I don’t feel obligated to justify any of my choices to you. If you have an eating disorder, I pose the following question: have you tried meth? Because it’s worked wonders for my figure.
I like to read a lot and do other things too, but since I decided to make this a running and beer blog, you probably won’t hear too much about it.
One more thing: I only take horrible race photos. You won’t find any smiling, breezy, flawless, effortless, sweatless, jumping up and down arms raised in victory photos on this blog.