Baby, we were born to run. So, I run. I run a lot. That's what tramps likes us do. During the week I hit up the 24-Hour Fitness and try to find a treadmill that actually turns on. On a good day, I spread open the pages of my new US Weekly and flip through pages of glossy pictures of people I don't know and things that don't matter--its is overwhelmingly refreshing. The people are pretty and fake and Charlie Sheen doesn't explain to me that his paper was three days late because he was on a three day coke binge and it wasn't really his fault that he had couldn't be there when it was due because there was that court ordered rehab thing he had to do. I love celebrity gossip because I don't have to care about it. Their lives are fuel for my feet as they slap the machine and keep me going for one more mile.
Weekend runs are becoming a surprising highlight of my life lately. Long Saturday runs with great company makes me happy. I thought I would hate this marathon training gig, but it suits me in a way I never anticipated. Its always good when we can still surprise ourselves.
I watch The Wire. My work boyfriend passed along season 1 of The Wire to me over winter break. It is awesome. All the hype is true and if you haven't watched this show yet, you should.
I drink hot chocolate. I had a former boyfriend who's biggest pet peeve was people drinking from mugs. This crosses my mind almost every night of the winter in Colorado because that is how often I drink from mugs. Mugs appear in our apartment like protesters in Egypt. Tall mugs, short mugs, matching mugs, plain mugs, fat mugs, travel mugs, Muslim mugs....ok, not Muslim mugs. Clearly mugs don't pray 5 times a day.
I apply for jobs. I need a new one. If you find one for me, let me know.
Are you bored yet? I mean, this is really the problem with blogging. I am the problem with blogging. The average person is not actually that interesting and you shouldn't want to read about me, so I'll just put up the pictures:
