Bib #318! This girl is a RocketChick!

My legs were on fire. The 12 miles bike was longer than it should have been... my swim was sloppy and I had to walk (or wobble) the 1st almost mile of the run. i can't wait to do it again.

at the end of the day... I finished 16th in my division... and i beat a hell of a lot of other people, I have to be happy about that. I am an athlete. I am a Tri-Athlete. i am a Rocket chick.

I need water.

"I Can't Believe I Just Did That!"

I can't believe I just read that.

The title is a book that occupied me on the 16 hours in a car to Atlanta, then Athens, then back to Atlanta and finally home.

Btw... Kias are god awful! I hate those things. They make as much sense to me as Saturn cars. Why? for what reason. Also I fully recognize that I am an evil capitalist that believes in the roomy goodness of an SUV.

Back to book and will have to finish post later.

I can see the value in the 1st portion of this as it relates to Career Development for the yuppies. It lends itself to the awesome premise of a presentation I am giving next month in Mass. (and they are flying me up for 1 day to talk for 45 min... I am floored. and biding my time till i rub it in Bambi's face)

My issue comes in that you have to take this and all "self-help" books with a grain of salt. Why? because the author's bias is all over it. He was a woose as a kid and you can tell. He is probably a homo-sexual. i say this not negatively but as a matter of fact... and through his writing you can tell.

The value in this book? deconstructing the power struggle. it is interesting. more later.

I post partially to force myself to update.

UPDATE: i lost my train of thought. i also lost my credit card apparently. Had lunch on Thursday w/JB. Waitress gave me someone else's card. I had no idea. Spent the weekend in ATL... used it all over the place... suddenly it was declined at a gas station... called today b/c for the life of me I could not figure out what was wrong... now all of the charges will be taken care of by VISA. Don't know what to make of all that.

fat finger the sequel: fat arm... the explanation

Circa April... was the HUGE company picnic. Mom came to get sick on cotton candy, popcorn and coke... grams came so i could beat her at basketball... (the pic they sent me of her is precious. for privacy reasons I am not posting. email me... I'll show you how cute she is)...

and i got put on a volley ball team for the tournament. because from weight training and swimming... i have the girl equivalent to guns. (these are so going away! people notice and i am getting self conscious. the definition is not bad... but I'm getting hit on by lesbians... it's kind of scary) thus i look like an athlete. SURELY i know what to do with a volley.

Thing is, i do not.

I have not touched a volley ball since like 6th grade. I did ballet. I did dance team. I didn't have to DO P.E. with the ruffians. ick.

so i got put on a team that has to play against the COO and his kids. Oh there is some good news there. Get ready for the good ol' college try. the boys on my team were SERIOUS about this. I'm not sure why i was there. The ball would come at me an in true girl form... i ran in the opposite direction in my pink shorts while the boys tried to kill the ball. it was madness...

until i tried to hit the ball. and the last 3 fingers on my right hand began to swell. it was so painful. now my pinkie is still deformed. You think i am kidding... i am not.

Mom's sage medical advice? "Honey stick your hand in a cup of ice... and don't be such a woose" yay mom. at least she made the sad face as she said it and brought me juice :)

hence we begot fat finger... on to the sequel...

2 weeks ago running suicide sprints... on a soccer field... with p-day and the real athletes he trains. football, soccer, track... the BOYS. I was working on my run times and intervals... i can use this.

one of the girls passed out from heat exhaustion... and my heat tried to pretend not to notice... her friends helped her up. the paramedics put her in a tent. the workout proceeded. In a case like that... unless you know the person LEAVE THEM ALONE. i'm sure she was just mortified. I know I would be.

How do I know? Because shortly thereafter, I was. (that's what she said).

Next set of sprints. run, turn at cone, run back, turn at further cone, run back, turn at... ok you get the drill.

except on the turn, i turned awkwardly and felt myself going down... i put my right arm behind me to catch myself... and felt my wrist pop.

I don't know what it says about me that i was MORTIFIED and EMBARRASSED because i fell in front of GOD AND EVERYBODY before I realized I was in pain.

I immediately tried to stand up but could not put pressure on my right hand. P-day scooped me up like a 2 year old which only made me hyper ventilate worse. It was so retarded. and I couldn't stop it.

My heat is around me and the boys have the frozen death stare and whisper "please don't cry, please don't cry" and i grit my teeth and say "I DO NOT CRY"

to which P-day is concerned and says "ok, don't cry... please breath because you are scaring me".

for my efforts i had a wrist and arm that were incredibly painful and required ice. i couldn't do anything because i only had one hand and even through ice, celebrex and lots of ibuprofen my hand screamed at the slightest movement.

obviously it is a lot better now. hence i am typing. it is funnier now.. but the whole thing has knocked me back weeks of training.

did i mention my 1st tri is this Saturday (yeah, THERE is some good news) and the whole damn thing has cost me so much money, i have to do it at this point.

i'm not ready, and i hate the way i look. that is vain. or maybe it just looks that way.

worst part? roommate bought me a mountain bike and put his $700 road bike at my disposal. i should probably get familiar with the damn thing, since i'm gonna do 12 miles on it.

rat bastard.

Fat Finger the Sequel: Fat Arm!

before we get to the title line... am watching Mamma Mia!

Very good. better than I thought it would be.

overarching impression: Meryl Streep is OOOOOOLLLLLLLDDDDDDD!!!!!

Pura Vida

Subject: Call from Austin

Times I let it go to V-mail: 3 times in 2 weeks

why I picked up today? He sent me a text... I was curious.

why he called: he is flying back to Costa Rica which is where he lives. and will be moving to Australia.

He wants to give me a perspective of disenchanted young people everywhere else in the world. He wants to keep in touch. He wants to remain friends. He gives me his email and asks me to visit his myspace full of Costa Rica.

I visit MySpace out of curiosity. he is listed as the title line.

He is in a relationship? his myspace says so. he does not bring this up.

He gets off the phone to board a plane. "come visit me wherever i am. come live in australia whenever you are sick of the rat race". I did the visit when he was in Austin... just like Japan he will seamlessly move into "stay here! stay forever!" and i will want to break my neck running away from him.

We are not friends. we used to be. and then i was stupid enough to listen to his professing of his undying love... and he says stupid things like marriage... and he is a flake. he is not the marrying kind.

I want to drown myself in beer. and kick him. want the beer more though.

I want to not be where i am. suddenly the job i love... the impending promotion... the start of law school... looks like nothing.

why? because he spent a month in Italy just because... so this is jealousy? of his life? of his abandonment of rational reason... and the universe just catches him.

I remember that it and he did not work for me. That i do not want to bring him home to the family, do not want to marry him. did not even want to see him very often... so the issue is not so much him... as it is me.

which i know.

ugh. next time i am just not answering. no matter how many times he calls. I'm too old for this $hit.

Being in the Air Force does not obligate me to take you to a strip club.

onward.

Thursday was DJ Sabrozo's birthday. He wants to do dinner at P.F. Changs and drinks somewhere else. I say cool. I have to go. I punk out on too many outings for the sake of work, working out or plain-i just don't want to.

but he continues to call and he always has... so i feel like i have to. OMG! that was the most fun I have had in my city in a long time. Dinner was me, him and 20 newbie clubbing girls. that was awkward. Later, all of the other fun people showed up and the party was moved to Sullivans. Usually a better... calmer more sophisticated bar/restaurant... THAT night try cheesy band, lots o cougars and drunken young professionals.

Many many martinis later...

DJ wants to go to the gold club. Argh. At this point we are down to the fantastic 4. Me, Palestine 4-EVA, Nidal and DJ.

nice.

On to the gold club. i take issue to pay to see something i already have. I've gone w/friends... i get that it is a form of entertainment... and for DJ's b-day i will shut up and go.

it was interesting until a stripper put her tongue down my throat. So, i guess the awesome pop culture reference would be "I kissed a girl and I didn't like it".

Ever awesomely sarcarastic Nidal hands me a lemon drop and says "Here you go kid. Alcohol kills everything, even chlamydia!"

ok, that was funny.

fast forward to the UFC fight last night at Hooters. interesting enough. Christmas's brother in law's friends is on military leave and about to deploy to Iraq for 6 months. yay him.

he is 21. yay him part 2.

he is very vocal about being in the military/air force... it is all he talks about... and wanting to go to a strip club. he has never been. up to this point... still not my problem.

He goes on and on... most of the guys he is hanging with are grossly underaged and very immature. Still not my problem, the grown people are on my side of the table. Then there were a few. and he is trying to find someone to go with him...

on and on about how this will be the only good memory he has to take with him to Iraq. and it is all very sad. he is young. and stupid young. and not cute enough to make up for the dumb $hit that keeps coming out of his mouth.

he begs me to take him. i don't want to. i say i went already for a friend's birthday...

he says "well my birthday was in April... and none of my friends took me! you could feel better that you were helping me have a good birthday."

my response "apparently you need better friends and you are not my friend... in fact we just met, so i don't exactly care whether or not you had or have a good one ever"

ugh.

he worked on me long enough that i took him. bought him a beer... stayed all of 10 minutes for his friend to meet us... and left them both there.

today christmas texts me that this guy was hoping i would go there with him... love it... take him home and *ahem*. is he serious? has he met him... where would this little guy get an idea that something like that would happen without the aid of rupees slipped into my drink. seriously! what are the teaching these young kids in the military.

The shirt is funny... because it was the shirt that he was wearing. and he wonders why he is not getting laid.