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a pervading malaise

maybe it’s me?

By christa 21 February, 2006 best of loafe, vol 1, random

Am I only the one who thinks that the Olympic coverage is totally cheeseball? Well, it is here in the US and I’m sure other countries are no different. Just something about the Olympics that brings it out in people.

It makes me laugh. There is always a long, rambling backstory and so much drama, tragedy and hardship for every single athlete competing. The announcers are so serious and into it, it’s almost scary. They’ll tell you stories like “Oh and his grandmother died exactly 12 years ago to this very day, can you imagine? So he’s doing this race not just for him and his country, but for his grandmother as well, who was his biggest supporter” and meanwhile the athlete is like 24, making him 12 years old when his grandmother was his “biggest supporter.” 12? Come on. COME ON!

Gordon and I have started making up stories for different athletes, like “Oh boy, Sarah, this kid has his work cut out for him tonight. Listen to this. He got a call from his mother this morning, just hours before the big race, and she told him they were out of milk. Yes, that’s right. out of milk. Completely and totally. I don’t know how he’s going to focus on the event, but if he wants to medal, he’s going to have to put that out of his mind and just go for it. The pressure these athletes are under, with all the media attention and then to be told, by your own mother the day of the biggest race of your life, that you are out of milk? Well, I don’t envy him. But I’ve seen him race and it’s things like this that really set him apart, tragedies like this seem to give him the motivation and strength to win, to break records even. He’s a true professional in his field. No milk, and yet here he is, warming up and ready to perform for his country. He isn’t going to let the terrorists win, no sir he isn’t.”

We try to see who can come up with the most outrageous and ridiculous backstory. I usually win. I’m a gold medal tragedy maker. What can I say, I have the gift.

18 months

By christa 21 February, 2006 ry pics

For those of you keeping track, RG turned 18 months on the 19th. That’s two pregnancies! Three if you count my *actual* pregnancy.

I have a son who is a year and a half old. Very strange. I suppose I should stop charting every little age milestone, because it can be a bit depressing, but it’s beyond my control. I am compelled to document them in every manner possible, including the following:

Let’s compare how much he’s changed in a year. This is from Feb 20, 2005. Photos have been edited to preserve his dignity.

This is from Feb 20, 2006. He’s gotten a bit bigger, including the areas behind the black circle.

He’s giving kisses here. He makes a fish face and then expects kisses in return. He clutches his new favorite stuffed animal, from his aunt steph. thanks steph!

Not much happening here, just a picture that I liked.

Here he is stuffing as many goldfish in his mouth as he can (notice the fistful he already has).

My little boy wants to grow up to be a shriner. awwww…

Eating peas and loving it, I guess. Actually, he really does like peas. frozen though, not canned, or even fresh. He’s got a picky palette what can you do.

the injured will rise again.

By christa 20 February, 2006 random

The shower can be a dangerous place. Add in a shampoo bottle, wet slippery hands, the power of gravity and viola! You’ve got yourself a real situation. My poor sweet feet. In the past week alone, I’ve managed to acquire 3 bruises. And then today, I gave it real good to my toe. Maybe I’ll just stop taking showers.

My injuries aren’t isolated to shower hijinks though. I’ve also done some damage to my back, setting me back quite a ways in my 10K training. Not sure how I hurt it, but I suppose it’s a combination of many factors: my fat ass, my lack of in-shapeness, my huge gigantic ass, my flat feet, ill-fitted shoes, did I mention my ass yet?

ah well. such is the way of life for an elite athlete as myself. I knew the risk going in, didn’t I? But I can’t be stopped! I will not be stopped! I will drag my bruised and battered body over that finish line if I have to pay someone to do it for me.

loafe reviews a CD.

By christa 17 February, 2006 random

One of my favorite CDs is the fight club soundtrack. The movie itself is tops; the soundtrack even better.

But for the longest time, I couldn’t listen to it. Every time I put it in, I would get this cramped feeling in my stomach, the dizzy butterflies, and I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. And it was because of ecstasy. I listened to that CD one time while rolling, and ever since then my body began to physically react to the music whenever I played it, regardless of my level of sobriety.

I haven’t done ecstasy in years, and even just a few months ago I was STILL having reactions to it. Now that’s a good effing CD, if you can listen to it once and have it still affecting you years later (when I say years I don’t mean 9 or 10, I mean 3 or 4).

But just the other day, I listened to it at the gym and it didn’t bother me at all, no weird feelings, no nervousness, no uncomfortable bowel urges. It was quite the relief. I really missed that CD. And now that I’m not taking ecstasy anymore, it’s really great for working out. I’m pleased all around.

a loafe recommendation: if you’re feeling a little blue and you’ve got the spare time, money and inclination, pop an MDMA pill and listen to the fight club CD. I guarantee a lovely time with lovely memories (and maybe even residual physical sensations). And if you haven’t got the time, money or desire for illicit fun, then put the it on while exercising and I guarantee a great work out. Either way, you can’t go wrong with the fight club soundtrack.

in summary, we give 4 bowel movements (out of a possible 4) to the dust brothers.