Taking Up Running

Since Regina is flat and well Regina is flat, I have chosen to take up running as a sport. It isn't exactly a sport as much as way get exercise and to socialize. Though I haven't gotten into the socialization process much because that involves carrying on a conversation and I would rather the air that I use be used to enter my body not talk about my life. This the Running Room would say is not running right. You are supposed to be able to talk while running. So every once and a while I will spew out a hello at someone coming towards me. This scares most people since with head phones on I must be screaming it them. Those walkers really aren't as sturdy as you would think. I have been responsible for a couple of roll overs because of my running.

I began running in March. We started out with a group of about 20 or so, but in March the wolves are hungry and foolishly some of these women were wearing this outfit:

They were slower then the rest of us, some were limping because of sore muscles and what can I say, when we got back from our first run, the numbers had dwindled. The Running Room has since learned that wearing moose outfits is a bad for groups of new runners. But on the upside it does make you want to stay in the front of the pack.

I have also learned that running in a thunder storm is bad business. Coming from the Northwest I realize this, don't stand under trees on top of the only hill in 10 miles. Don't wear aluminum hats of any kind and there is no way to dodge hail. I know these things.

So why is it that while running in a thunder storm the softball teams were out there playing softball with aluminium bats?

One other thing, why can't they make shorts that don't constantly have a desire and need to creep up my thighs, which makes me look like I am wearing some foolish diaper thing. Trying to pull them down is exhausting and dangerous because running while having your hand between your legs is not some thing an amateur should ever do.

This Saturday is my first 5k run. If you by chance see someone running, screaming out an occasional HELLO and wearing what looks like diapers, that would be me.

Suggested Name Change to the Traffic Department

We have all driven over them some times in our lives. Those obnoxious bumps in the road that aren't pedestrians or slow moving skunks, no what I am talking about are those raised curved asphalt things in the road that are created to make us slow down. We find them in neighborhood where their are children, though why you need to slow down for children I will never know, those buggers are fast. They should have them where their are old people because old people aren't fast and you need to slow down for old people not fast little people. Do not try and dispute this logic because it makes sense. It is like asking George Hamilton to be a spokesman for Sun Screen. It is illogical the man is petrified, that is not a sun tan, it is a severe case of petrification. He looks exactly like a mummy but with a nice cigar and smoking jacket.


No George Hamilton has nothing really to do with this article but I find it strange that the world hasn't come to grips that we have mummies walking the world and are doing nothing about it. Screw worrying about Border Patrols. My friends the enemy is walking among us and yet we do nothing!

Today the subject is speed bumps. Why am I so up in arms about them today? No good reason other then I was driving though a neighbourhood of University Park and they have several of them, but do you know what they call them up here in Canada? SPEED HUMPS. Call me weird (but not to my face) but speed humps? when you put those two words together all I can think of is a new slang name for really bad sex.


"So Dorothy how was your date last night? "

"Oh it started out lovely and ended up on a horrible note."

"Oh no what happened?"

"Well George and I were getting frisky and all and well one thing led to another and we ended up in bed and then..."

"Oh no don't say it."

"But I must. I clicked my heels of my ruby red slippers three times and boom it was over."

Horrified. "Do you mean?"

"Yes I do, It was one of those damnable SPEED HUMPS."

"Oh Dorothy I am so sorry."

Sobbing, "yes it was quite horrid I have to say."

As you can see the name that the Canadian Transportation Department is using currently will make them the butt of everyone's jokes and as everyone knows that is not nice to do. Unless you are doing it in a blog, then it is so ok.

What I am suggesting to you the transportation department, change those signs to say speed bumps or face the consequences.

To Scream Like a Girl

There is nothing more humiliating then screaming like a girl, unless you are guy who screams like a girl and then I guess that would be a bit worse.

This morning I was calling Barb and leaving a message, I walked into the backroom and stepped on something that squirmed and was kind of fluttery and fuzzy. I screamed several times into the phone which Barb will now probably save.

I looked down and it was a ginormous bumble bee. It was on it's back. So I turned it over. Then I wondered why would I do that? It is like setting someone loose and then shooting them in the back. It made me feel dirty and evil so I walked away.

Then Barb called and I explained the situation and said I am going to send it a cat to kill it. She said I can't do that the cat will be stung. I thought better me then a cat. So from a distance I
I watched the fuzzy bugger and it kept following the sunlight, like it was sun bathing.

I decided that I couldn't have a fuzzy winged thing with a stinger sunning himself back room all day so I gently picked it up and threw him out in the back patio where the dogs are thinking, they can handle this.

Fucker landed on his back again. I had no choice but to go out and right him. I come back a few minutes later, I look out side and the bastard is sunny himself again where I will be coming in and out. The dogs were giving him no mind. So I did what was the only humane thing I could do at that point.

I went out with a newspaper and nudged him ever so gently. The bastard gathered up steam and huge buzzing noise (that is where the word Bee comes from the buzzing) the fat fuzzy bastard took off aiming for my head.

Unfortunately I screamed again.

He missed my head and slowly headed for the sun.

I am sure I will find him somewhere in my house again, when I least expect it.

I wonder also why I am suddenly writing as if I am English. I must have some English born talking disease.

How do you deal with Depression?

You would think to start out with that I would be doing all my depression related posts in the middle of a howling snow storm in the dead of winter, that is when most people usually in the old days would just leave their sod hut on the prairies and walk out into a white out never to be seen again until spring time. Dial up connections will do that to you trust me.

But I have been suffering from a bit of depression of late. Well that is a lie because a bit of depression most likely looks like oh damn I don't think I will do my nails today. That's a bit of depression. Then there is the depression that sometimes hits me like an Ashlee Simpson song. Yep it is that bad, scary bad. When I get a depressed I write lists that start out with.

• Get out of bed
• No I mean it get the fuck out of bed
• Ok sleep for another hour and then you must get out of bed or you will wet the bed then you will have to change the sheets
• Screw it I will pretend I have a water bed that has sprung a leak.

As you can see this is not something that can be fixed by singing songs from the Sound of Music or by clogging. Nope this is serious stuff.

So let us say I do get out of bed. Then there is the TV. I believe anyone who is depressed should stay AWAY FROM DR. FUCKING PHIL, talk about a baldheaded bastard who forces his poor wife to listen to his dribble every single frigging day and then at the end of the show he drags her off as if she is in a mild coma of some kind.

As you can see I am learning to stay away from sitting there watching TV. Yesterday was a bad day for food, because generally if something is bothering me and the world is weighing heavy on my shoulder I try to be very buddist and try and become like a locust, I swarm into the kitchen making mumbling sounds and I circle the kitchen once before I open of the fridge and eat anything that involves fat or carbs. Some times that means I eat crackers with cheese, or cheese with potato chips or, just cheese, or just potato chips or crackers and if there is anything with sugar about that is refined into a cookie or candy I will consume that. My eating will stop as soon I can feel the last bit sitting at the top of my throat ready to come out.

Then I sit and wish that I understood the concept of bulimia better. I mean I get that you eat like a locust and the throw up. Makes sense to me, but since I have an issue with procrastination, by the time I get around the puking part, it is totally too late.

It is unfortunate that in my life I have been unable to use the same techniques that have worked for millions in losing weight.

• I don't puke so that's out, well unless I eat scallops and then all bets are off
• I tried to take speed to lose weight and all I did was eat faster
• I tried that no carb diet but after sitting down and eating a side of beef, I don't care what they say the weight just didn't fall off of me
• I avoid mirrors like a vampire so I don't have that issue of looking in the mirror and seeing a fat person, usually what I see is a blur as I run by them screaming.

So why am I now going through this at this time of my life?

Because I live in a frigging small city in the middle of the frigging prairies and though nice it is hard to make friends here and I don't have a college education and I'm not Canadian and I have big hair.

I am hoping my next post will show you pictures of Jill McAllister's new hairdo from Global news because you tell me -

• Is she really the reincarnation of Medusa?
• Or does her hair stylist have a drinking problem plus really hate her and gave her a perm that would scare women from Kentucky*.

*This is in no way a derogatory remark about women in general from Kentucky. In fact I actually know one woman from Kentucky and not only does she not have big hair, but she is in fact smart, funny and knows where Canada is, not like a lot of people from the states.

Loving the family from a distance

As a disclaimer let me say that I do love my family very much. Without them, I wouldn't be who I am and there are several therapists in my past who wouldn't have new cars because of me. So I would first like to thank my parents for the gifts of humour and talent they gave me and also for helping keep the American economy going.

Most of my family lives in Seattle. I do have a brother who also lives in Canada but for us siblings it seems important to keep a minimum of at least 200 miles distance between each other so that we all get along. Doing holidays is of course difficult, that involves moving quickly from room to room so as not to have more then two siblings in the same room at any given time because a combination of 3 siblings in a room creates the same kind of dangerous chemical reaction as what happened at Chernobyl and 3 mile Island.

I have found in my time here on the prairies an equation that I call the dysfunctional family love equation which is - if you multiply the number of miles I am away from my family times (1750 miles) how much I love my family (10) then you will see I love my family 17500 times more then if I lived in their home (10) or if I lived in the same city about 15 miles from them (150). So you see from this mathematical equation, by moving to Canada, to the prairies, to Regina, I have actually improved my relations with my family, have created enough distance between my sibilings so as not to cause a mass murder and therefore have all around done a great service for my family and myself and my country.

But I do call them because they are elderly and I miss them. The equation I discussed above can also be used for missing them. Replace "love" for "missing" and you see that by being out here I miss them a lot.

I am not sure where the post is going. Last time I talked to my parents I found out that a rogue coyote had chased my sister from the cabin she lives on in my parents property to the house. This would seem disturbing to any normal person and I certainly don't want my sister attacked or hurt by coyotes or vultures or any other animal. But I do find a certain ironic humour in this coyote story when I think back on how my one sister tried to break into my other sister's bedroom with a fork and stab her. Please be aware that if I bring this story up, everyone will deny and call me a liar. I might be a liar, for all I know it was a spoon. But there was a situation that did involve a kitchen untensil and my two sisters chasing each other. As we all know in most stories there is some truth and some story telling to make it more entertaining. With our family there is rarely a need to make things up, because most people can't believe our true stories anyway.

Back to the talking to my mother. She said that one of the wild life biologists who was setting traps on their property dated me in high school. I informed her that I never went on a date with anyone in high school, unless you count the guy who wanted to steal my parents car to go joy riding and that wasn't a date because no one goes joy riding in a volkswagon bus and I didn't go out with him. So she said OK the guy you dated when you were a mormon. Wrong again mother, I didn't date any mormons either, when I was one for that year, before I found softball and drinking. I said my no one ever leaves that area do they? (Seattle) She said it is a beautiful area and no smart person would leave, i.e. me.

This is where that equation discussed above changes. Distance (A) x love (B) - guilt and rage (C) changes the whole equation. Let us look at it again shall we?

(1750 miles x 10 love) - 1,000,000 guilt and rage = -982500

Which puts me in a deficit concerning my family, plus you add phone charges and wow, I am going to have to move to siberia to get this puppy back to a positive number.

So you all can see that my advice is to anyone who has a family like mine is, distance does make the heart grow fonder and thank god for the bonus airmiles I get at Safeway cause I think I am going to need them.