Too Tired to Think of a Title

I would spend some more time giving a training update, but there's not a ton to embelish on when you've rode, swam and run once this week.

So here's some stuff non-training related.


Fridge
The door on my refrigerator fell off today.

Any other day, I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass.

We all know I pretty much eat canned tuna and caramel rice cakes and call it a meal.

Needless to say, the fridge of often devoid of anything more than bottled water (for guests – I drink tap), sugar free Red Bull, and (if I’m training) turkey slices (pre-packaged of course). I am nothing if not the epitome of healthy eating. I know. Be jealous.

But see today is important. Today is the day I prepare for my weekend houseguest.

And this is not the usual houseguest (read: Cheese). No, in fact this houseguest is one step above Cheese.

It’s Cheese’s mom.

Yup.

Just his mom. No Cheese.

She’s coming in to chill with me, see the city, and spend some quality time with the woman who has forced her only son to actually become a man.

A couple months back, I mentioned that it would fun to have her come to Chicago for a weekend and hang, and this is the weekend.

We've got tons of stuff planned, and I love being a tour guide to my city. I LOVE having visitors, especially when it's summer in Chicago (read: if you ever feeling like dropping in, give me a call - I live for this shit).

But the problem here is, Cheese's mom is staying with me.

In my dorm room of an apartment.

With my fridge door on the ground.

Even though I suggested a hotel, Cheese thought it would be good for us to have some "girl time." He even suggested that it would be okay for her to sleep in my bed – with me – until a minor argument led to the decision to get an air mattress.

‘Cause it wasn’t bad enough that I was going to ruin her image of a hot shot, ultra glam, big city, high class badass professional woman when I picked her up in my 8 year old shit box car and take her to my studio apartment with 32 years of life crammed into it. Now the poor woman has to stare at the open gaping evidence of my bachlorette lifestyle. At least with the fridge door shut, I could have thrown some fruit in a bowl and lit a candle to make it all look sort of presentable.

Naw, I'm just kidding about the image thing. I think I pretty much solidified my "image" when I showed up to their house for Christmas and literally made a pig of myself by eating everything in sight, wore the same clothes for three days, and sat at the dinner table in my bathrobe. Yup, nothing but class here, folks.

But what can I do about it now? I have done my best to warn her about the living situation (although no one is ever actually quite prepared for how truly small it is until they see it – my own mom had to catch her breath when I opened the door). She seems to like me anyways - even crocheted me an afgan for my bed. It's pink.

So as long as she doesn’t open the cabinets and witness the Cheez-It habit, open the closet door, peer too closely at the corners of the room, look inside the microwave, or check under my desk, we should be okay.


Necking
Last night, I went to bed at 5:30 AM (work), and then had to get up two and half hours later (work). My patience is short, and the mood is ripe for a rant. Here ya go:

So there has been this thing bothering me for some time, but I sort of forgot about it until Mommymeepa recently reminded me.

Here’s the thing: I have noticed this trend, perhaps an epidemic, that is plaguing many of the young hipsters here in Chicago. At first, I though it was a fluke – you know, some young trendy-wannabee high schooler or artsy-type making a statement. But then, more and more, it was all around me.

Scarves.

In July.

Like, with shorts and sandals.

Like, the one’s you wear around your neck to keep the winter chill at bay.

Scarves are ALL OVER.

I see them on the street, at Ravinia, in the bookstore – I can’t get away from them.

When "Stuff White People Like" first noted this epidemic, I thought, “Oh how funny and true” but now it’s IN MY BACK YARD!!!!

I mean, what is the point of this? Is it a fashion statement? Is 95 degrees and humid not warm enough? Are these folks possibly anemic? Are they being used a hicky covers?

(Ewww….hickeys…….Remember when that was cool, at age 13, when you had your first boyfriend/girlfriend? No? Me neither....I heard it once...somewhere)

Digression.

Back to point.

For any of you currently try to pull of this ridiculous trend – take note – Try some thing else. If you need to set yourself apart as trendy or hip, get a tattoo, pierce your nipples, vote for Obama - I don’t care.

Just save the scarves for weather below 40 degrees. Don’t worry – it’s like a month away.