I wanna see you sweat

Tonight, for the first time in probably six months, I managed to put together a week with three visits to the gymn. Go me!
The cardio portion of my routine is usually twenty-five minutes on the alpine thingy with target heart rate at 140. Most days I get between two or three miles on that setting. I was starting to feel a little comfortable so I decided it must be time to bump it up a little. Just a little--two heartbeats. Just to 142.
Kicked. My. Ass. And three and a half miles.
I also started a new muscle group on my weight training--lower back. Dunno why I didn't start sooner, given the amount of trouble it gives me. Hopefully I'll be able to get out of bed tomorrow.
And now I really want a doughnut.
mmmmmmmm. doughnut.

In other news, Nauti's mileage is definitely down. From 30-35 to about 28. Keeping an eye on it, as two tanks in a row is unsettling but not telling.

Are you the one I've been waiting for?

http://www.somethingpositive.net/sp12062005.shtml

Today's comic reminded me very strongly of a conversation I once had with Princess Mei.
(I was the bitter one.)
I think it was just after we'd seen the Wizard of Oz and I mentioned how Glinda was using Dorothy as a political pawn to get the Wizard out of Oz, since she couldn't risk a direct confrontation.
'Wicked' hadn't been written yet, so my theory had no literary foundation.

Yes, I'm still awake.
And I still want a doughnut.

Go, Speed Racer!

So usually people driving on 101 on the weekends are asstards anyway--every second you spend driving where you're going is another second of your weekend frittered away on staying alive--but this weekend seemed especially asstardic.
Today in particular, there was a shiny new Mercedes with the custom plates (PARKER1) and no working turn signals, leaping into any space vaguely Mercedes-sized and going ninety-five. You know, the usual.
And I found myself shouting "Go Parker, Go!" enthusiastically every time he squeezed himself into a new lane; Parker is a nice patrician name, but I found a soft Tennessee twang drifting into my voice as I repeated it.
And that was where it began.
There, in my car, I was recreating the Dukes of Hazzard except with Parker and his clan--Parker and Parker Associates (or Parker and Parker Ass, as we call 'em 'round here) always running from trouble with Boss Hogg from the SEC because their grandpappy was running questionable stock investments and soft political contributions. They had a fine ride, the shiny champagne-colored General Schwarzkopf, and all manner of mad 1337 drivin' skillz.

Now folks, them Parker boys was in more trouble than a tick hound on the Sunol Grade with a mocha latte in one hand and a briefcase full of bankruptcy paperwork in the other.

Just the good ol' boys, drivin' in their new car.
They're talkin' on the phone,
makin' risky venture loans,
....uuuuuh. That's about as far as I can get right now.
I need to hire Senatory Hatty to finish the theme song up.