I was in a pretty crappy mood yesterday. It may have been my Thanksgiving carb hangover or the anticipation of my mediocre performances at CapCity last night, but I’m more inclined to blame Freddie Mercury’s death.

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Went to see ‘The Departed’ last night. Pretty decent movie and it certainly proved just how awful the Boston accent is. Watched it at the Alamo Drafthouse, the only movie theater I enjoy going to because they cut anyone that talks or otherwise disrupts the experience. You don’t have to get involved, you simply write the person’s name or location on a piece of paper, stick it in the holder and wait for the staff to come and collect it. It’s all very discreet. You can also order food or alcohol using this method, but it’s more fun to rat out other movie-goers.

I did show remarkable restraint towards the woman on my row who was apparently watching the movie Borat in her head. While I accept that a few moments in The Departed did warrant an ironic chuckle or two, her full force laughter was never appropriate, even when Martin Sheen died. But I still let her live.

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I ran a half marathon this morning. I finished 606th, thus continuing to put pressure on the front-runners. It was a pretty decent race, good weather and Krispy Kreme donuts afterwards. Running up the many mountains/hills is but a memory, which I’m only reminded of when I stand up, sit down, or go up or down stairs.

However, the playing of the American national anthem continues to be an issue for me.

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Finished my run training this morning and our coach (Michael, not Jeremy from the previous blog - I suspect Michael would be more prone to blackmail) had the 5 of us get into a ‘plank’ position. It’s like a push up but with your elbows on ground and it works/kills your abs. We had to stay like that for as long as possible. I made it to 3 minutes and 9 seconds which I was pretty proud of, especially as it’s bloody painful and no-one else came close to that. But as I got to about 2 mins 45, Michael pointed out to the group that the less you weighed, the easier it was. I weigh less than the others. Screw all the core training I do, I should eat more lard so my achievement would be that much greater.

Just come back from Central Market. It took 15 minutes to check out, because they only had one main checkout person. Another 3 were working the 10 items or less aisle, but no-one was buying 10 items or less. Everybody had enough items in their trolleys to make them sufficiently lardy to ‘beat’ me in a plank position contest. And of course they brought their screaming 4 year olds along for the ride.

‘Would you like to help mummy take things out of the cart?’

Don’t be ridiculous. It takes them for bloody ever and they always drops something. If you need help I’ll do it. And you can use the extra time to start writing your check before the last item is rung up. I know, crazy idea.

It’s only 9.45am. I bet the day can get worse.

And yes, before you get judgemental, my problems are insignificant compared to millions of others in the world. But I’m still fucked off.

There were thousands of people downtown this morning running 3.1 miles to cure cancer. Very admirable but why does the cure have to be pastel pink? It’s fine as an accent but annoying when seen in giant clumps and on dogs wearing visors. And I doubt cancer finds it very scary, except the dogs perhaps. It should be a more powerful colour like Silver or Indigo. Nothing beats silver. Except gold, but gold isn’t cool.

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I ran 10 miles this morning out on the Town Lake trail. Thank god for the Red Bull I drank in place of breakfast and the coffee I washed it down with. I ran at my usual heffalump pace but the caffeine jolt meant I could converse with Jeremy, my running coach rather than just spluttering out the occasional yes or no answer.

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