I've Seen It All

Over my many years of looking at pretty much everyone around me with a charming amount of cynicism and staid scorn, I've developed and especial how people use their cellphones. Just today, in the grocery store, the woman in front of went through the entire checkout process while talking a mile a minute on her Razor. She never once acknowledged the checkout lady who was trying to inform the woman that she had left her keys by the credit card slider. Had I not picked them up and dangled them in front of her eyes, this woman may have involuntarily donated her Honda to a needy Shaw's employee.

But I don't mind. Janice (checkout lady, I would eventually discover) and I griped together about how oblivious people are when they have one of these electrical parasites strapped to their ears and so are now comrades of a sort.

I have seen people on the phone while parallel parking, while shopping with one other person (the partner of phone-talker forced to stare dejectedly at the floor, quiet and worthless), while hiking in the middle in the nowhere, while running (shocking) and even while in the middle of a marathon (shocking and confusing).

But none of this really affects me much and I've more or less grown used to it. Until today. The day I saw the most unbelievable phone travesty ever. While crossing an intersection on my run this morning, I saw in front me of me a large, white delivery truck. Inside, a man in dark shades and a bright red shirt commanded the helm.

He was driving with a cell phone in each hand.

Now, I'm as understanding as the next guy. Benefit of the doubt: perhaps he has a third arm. Perhaps, I did not notice his Siamese twin, born without ears but enough functional appendages to doggedly steer while his brother talks to each of their wives at the same time. Perhaps. But I doubt it.

I'm curious enough how a person holds two separate conversations at once and why this guy has not heard of three way calling. But that he would do it in rush hour traffic? Oh my.

TPS Cover Sheets

Then We Will Run in the Shade

I found out my Bib Number for the Boston Marathon today.

While not as woefully unprepared as I have been in certain other marathons, I will not be attempting a new PR.* Since I have been looking forward to Boston for a long time, I can use the excuse that I want to enjoy my run, rather than obsess about my time. I believe this cover will work until mile 22 when I no longer appear to be having fun.

Fortunately, my qualifying time puts me rather near the front of the pack. That means nearly 17,000 runners will have the chance to pass me if I crash and burn. How's that for motivation?

*Personal Record, or that arbitrary number that only one person in the world ever cares about - thyself.

Action, Affirmative

X Marks the Spot

If one neighbor's trash is another neighbor's treasure that would make this a pile of treasure three feet from my door for the last 4 days.


Speaking of completely random off-topic . . . topics - has anyone noticed the truck commercial (Toyota, I believe) featuring gruff construction workers who want a vehicle to pull their boat(s) up a mountain into a head wind without using a tank of gas? Are there a lot of nice boating spots on the top of mountains? And I always thought mountain roads wound around the whole mountain, thus the wind would be at your back as often as in your face. I know I'm being picky, but this is why I can't stand most TV for more than 10 minutes.

Bad Penguin

The Best Part of Waking Up