Reasons not to run this morning:

1. Dylan came down with a fever yesterday and didn’t sleep well, which means I didn’t sleep well, and by the way if you’re playing along at home this marks the fourth consecutive week of childhood illness in my house and I don’t mean to exaggerate or anything but I’m pretty sure WE ARE ALL GOING TO FUCKING DIE.

2. Which is to say, I would really rather be sitting around cramming cookies in my Nutter-Butter-hole right now, because I no longer drink and have no access to any good drugs and how else am I going to self-medicate?

3. I don’t even like running. My nose runs and my arms feel all stupid and dangly and I gasp and heave the whole time like I’m on the verge of cardiac arrest and my spit gets all gluey and disgusting.

4. My butt looks jiggly in these new running pants. I don’t mean bouncy. I mean jiggly. There may in fact be an audible flapping sound involved.

5. I hate runners. They’re all a bunch of self-righteous douchebags who are probably a total drag to be around, yapping all the time about intervals and tempo paces and shit while they gnaw incessantly on celery stalks and those stupid overpriced energy squares which hello, are just Gummi Bears in square form. Ooh, look at me eating a $3 square Gummi Bear, I’m an athlete. Plus, sometimes they run so much they shit their own pants. You know what I would rather do than shit my own pants? Fucking ANYTHING AT ALL, that’s what. Runners are gross.

6. There is a perfectly good ass-shaped dent in my couch, and I for one think sitting on it is probably the environmentally correct thing to do. My carbon footprint is nonexistent on this couch. I am living green, unlike you heartless planet-killers lacing up your running shoes which were probably manufactured out of emissions-producing non-sustainable polar bear fetus.

7. It’s cold outside.

8. And dark. Also, there is weather.

9. I haven’t even had any coffee yet. What kind of tragic, punishing, fucked-up existence is this, exercising before coffee? Am I in HELL?

10. I don’t want to, okay? Jesus, isn’t that good enough?

Reasons to do it anyway:

It makes me feel like I’m capable of doing anything I set my mind to.

This weekend started out in a pile of suck, what with Riley getting sick again—seriously, third time in three weeks, I have no goddamned idea what’s going on but I am about ready to encase both kids in Purell-filled bubbles and camp outside the pediatrician office with a loaded Mini-14 target rifle until someone hands over one of those precious fucking STILL-not-available flu vaccinations, and YES! IRONY! IT’S WHAT’S FOR DINNER!—but I’m happy to say things greatly improved on Saturday when I ditched my family altogether in order to run a 5K with Ashley.


Not pictured: our lungs, because they shot out our respective eyesockets about halfway through the course while gasping our way up an Everest-sized hill. I knew about the hill ahead of time, but here’s the thing: knowing is, in fact, NOT half the battle. Half the battle is running up a motherfucking hill. The other half is not puking while doing so.

Later, it was time for Thrill the World. I was feeling pretty good about my ripped, bloodied Goodwill dress and sunken zombie eyesockets until Ashley showed up in this genius ensemble:


Not only was the killed-while-running outfit brilliant (and obviated the need for a costume-deflating sweater), she also had the most disgusting latex flesh wound I’ve ever seen outside of a Troma film. I mean, that thing erupting off her face was so realistically, hideously repulsive, I was a little ashamed of my attempt at a neck wound scab, which I ended up covering with gauze because I couldn’t seem to bridge the gap from “pile of fake red slime” to “bloody festering bite of the undead”.

The event itself was so much fun. Just getting down there and shambling around with a bunch of other dressed-up people was awesome, and it was a hoot to be the subject of about a million camera-wielding tourists’ snapshots.

Some people had some really clever costume ideas:



And some people seemed a little . . . unclear on the concept:


I don’t have pictures of the actual dance, but you will simply have to imagine me performing the moves with perfect accuracy, never once missing a cue or stumbling into the person beside me. In fact, just watch the original Michael Jackson video. I was about that good, maybe a little better.


Anyway, I had a fantastic time and I highly, highly recommend to each and every one of you that you experience a group Thriller dance at least once in your lifetime. In fact, BlogHer 2010 ThrillBlog performance? WHO’S WITH ME.



Next Page →