Ow. drunk and painful. Molst of my brainpower is going towards proper spelling.

I FEEl sick. I want to rip the thin plastic film away from my eyes and see the world as oimperfect. Without being violently sick, of course. But I willl be. As I have been three times tonight. Sick Sick Sick. And a messs I make is equal to the mess I take. I hope so. Ow. I will pusblish and try back again. I ddin't drivea car becaise O was too drunk. If nothing else matters, that might. I don't want to hurt anyone but god help ye should you block my path to my home.

I've decided that if I could have any superpower it would be the ability to hear exactly what a person is listening to on their mp3 player and instantly know all the lyrics and any relevant choreography.

Then I will act accordingly.

Complementary to that, I will also be able to broadcast my thoughts directly to anyone with such a listening device. Beware, music-loving villains, for in my head I do a damn good James Earl Jones impression.

I'm not really sure if the following content is at all appropriate for this type of medium, but...

I kinda like some girl and I am unsure how to go about it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go stand outside with my head down and my hands in my pockets and kick weakly at a small pile of dirt.

My ferret is a male. I know this without a doubt because he somehow got a full beer out of the mini-fridge and had dragged it up onto the couch.

I've had this ferret for a long time and he still manages to surprise me. My sister gave him to me when she moved to Massachusetts. His name was Pookie then, but I've always called him Ferret. I've long since learned the futility of naming animals that have no interest in coming when you call them.

But, since I never learn my lesson, a few days ago I named him anyway. His name is Ferrett B612 which is a reference to Asteroid B612, the asteroid that the Little Prince lives on in the book by Antoine De Saint-Exupery.

This also means that when Ferret B612 dies, I will be obligated to launch him into space.

It's what he would have wanted.

I think, as social creatures whose survival largely depends on our ability to interact successfully with other social creatures, we are afraid of becoming "out of touch." The phrase "Judge not lest ye be judged" is a suicide chorus. (Although, I think in the biblical context "judge" actually means "condemn to hell." Silly redactors. Why don't they just say what they mean?)

I find myself constantly judging. "Is that person with the baseball bat going to hit me with it?", "Can I make it through this stoplight before it turns red?", "How many single servings of sliced cheese can I eat before I go blind?", "Why would they build rooftops so close together if we weren't meant to jump them?"

I spend most of the day assessing risk. The rest of the time I'm trying to forget about risk. Eventually, I grow so weary of the whole business that I run out and embrace risk in a bearhug and throw myself off the nearest rooftop. Sometimes I hit the ground first and sometimes risk breaks my fall enough for me to limp away. I suppose nothing is really accomplished, but there's a street cleaner somewhere that sees that cracked and splattered concrete and thinks "job security."

By their blogs ye shall know them?

The Ferret Who Sold The World

One day Ferret B612 was bounding along when he met a man with no hat. The man said "Hello, friend ferret. I would like to buy the world from you."

Ferret B612 never gave up his treasures willingly, especially not to a man with no hat, but being a ferret, he was ever curious. "What could you possibly give me that is worth more than the world?"

The man with no hat did not blink. "I will give you this magical sofa couch. It is magical and no matter how big or how unlikely an object is, you will be able to hide it underneath this sofa couch."

Ferret B612's whiskers trembled and his black eyes opened wide, wide enough to show a tiny bit of white at the very edges. "It shall be done."

So the man gave the happy ferret the magical sofa couch and Ferret B612 gave the man the world. The man set the world on his head and began to walk away.

"Wait," Ferret B612 chittered. "I've forgotten to give you your change." With that, he grabbed the man with the world on his head by the ankle and stuffed him underneath the sofa couch.

Ferret B612 traveled around all of existence searching for things to stuff under his sofa couch. There were many, many things. Finally, the day came when there was nothing left to stuff under the sofa couch. "Well," Ferret B612 said to nothing and no one, "there's something I've been curious about since I acquired this sofa couch." With that, he grabbed the sofa couch and began to tug. He tugged and tugged until he pulled the sofa couch underneath itself and of course, him with it. It really was quite a remarkable magical sofa couch.

Since then, everything has been pretty quiet.

Ben O. and I have been running quite a bit in the past month. However, I've been severely slacking and I decided to hunt around for something that will up the stakes a bit. I think I found it.

It is the Whiskey Row Marathon in Prescott, Arizona. The race will be on May 6th (less than a week before my 24th birthday.)

It is supposed to be one of the more grueling marathons. Well, the description given is "This out and back course is considered one of the most challenging in the United States. Starting at 5,280 feet, the elevation increases to 7,000 feet over the first 7 miles, then down to 5,600 feet at the 13 mile turn around. The course is paved road for the first and last 5 miles, while the rest is on Forest Service dirt road in the cool pines. The course offers panoramic views of Northern Arizona peaks."

And in a completely unnecessary play on words, instead of water and sports-drink hydration points there will be mini-bars with various whiskey drinks. I doubt they'll have what I want. I take my whiskey neat, with a side of ice cream, thank you very much.

At this juncture, I'm not optimistic about completing the course but I'm pretty sure I won't have much of a choice. My options are to either finish the race or to stand in the forest shouting "I'm done!" until a magical badger gives me a lift in his magical badger wagon that runs on pinecones.

No, that would be unrealistic. Magical badgers are just as likely to maul the shit out of you as the non-magical ones.