53. Holidays, parties, other effluvia

By last Wednesday I had already been to 75 percent of the parties I am scheduled to attend this holiday season, and good riddance to them.  Holiday parties make me sweaty and drunk and I don't much like them afterwards.  I don't own any holiday sweaters so I always feel dumb standing around in my non-holiday grub.

I might not write again this year because I have nothing to say, so let us take a few moments right now to reflect upon the year which has just passed us by.  By that I mean let us take a few moments to reflect upon my year.  It was a very difficult year, poor me.  First, I was entirely and absolutely ill and homeless for the first third of the year, which really cut into my running season, and although I did run five half marathons, five 5Ks (soon to be six), and one 10K this year, I didn't PR in anything except slowness.  Additionally, I've had money and work problems and only got to spend one month in Australia this year.  Also, the weather was no one's friend until July and, although the summer was fantastic, it ended.  And we did have a beautiful, warm, and lingering fall, but that ended too and now it's the winter.  And sure, the winter's fine so far, but it's only just begun.  The only good thing about 2010 (other than the summer and the races and the month in Australia and all the good times with people I love and other super and wonderful things that I won't enumerate) is that my hair is finally growing out, so that two-year nightmare is almost over, but I found a gray hair this spring.  As a sign of my maturity and grace, I didn't flip the fuck out like I thought I would upon discovery of a gray hair.  The gray hair inhabits my head to this day - I didn't pull it for fear of it multiplying - I'm waiting to see what will happen.  I think it will probably change its mind and turn brown again.)

Despite all the challenges I experienced (one of those half marathons had FIVE MILES of uphill! which also meant five miles of downhill but by the time you got to that who even cared) I give this year two thumbs up (out of two thumbs), and the summer was the best summer since 2005.  Here are the best summers in reverse chronological order: 2010, 2005, 2003, 1988, 1984, 1978.

Here are my resolutions for 2011: to have a good running season ("good" as defined by me and subject to change), and to stop being such a jerk.

Tomorrow will be 40 seconds shorter than today.

52. Weather, running on ice

The day dawned clear and cold and I awoke four minutes before my alarm was to go off. I turned off the stupid alarm, went back to sleep, and didn't go to the group run. That was yesterday. Today I actually got out of bed and went for a run.

I hadn't run by myself for ages and ages. It was super. Just putting on all my running gear made me happy - it seemed like a long time since I'd run at all, even though it had only been about a week. Perhaps it had been two. It was 16 degrees outside and windier than a son-of-a-gun, the Hellgate wind ablowing. Only the crazies were out. All was beiced/Alles war Eis bedeckt, especially the river trail they just paved to make it easier to clear in the winter. (The part they didn't pave was not icy.) I had on my new spikes made of diamonds so I didn't slip at all. I don't have a windbreaker for running so I was wearing a raincoat, the inside of which became a drippy steam room.

I admit I was taken aback by the arrival of the winter, even though August was five months ago now. Missoula is like a giant ice cream freezer these days. But pretty. The hills are large and white. Everyone is friendly and merry. The days will start getting longer in just about two weeks.

I am now reading:

8. Tough Trip Through Paradise by Andrew Garcia. This is like a combination of The Big Sky and The Road to Virginia City. So far, the guy's riding around in the woods with a drunkard, some horse thieves, and 104 stolen horses. I don't know what will happen.
9. Selected Works by Richard Hugo. I come to this collection of poems with deeply ingrained biases against both fishes and poetry, and unfortunately these poems are full of fishes. Also I've always thought Richard Hugo's name was very pompous. I am sorry for that but that's the way it's always been. I will probably be reading this book for the next decade. I'm sorry.

Things have been fine. Multitudinous personages have loaned me books that I'll probably never read. I'll probably start running again for real next month.

51. Books read since last we met

Winter reading project going well.  Here's what I've been reading:

4. Born to Run by Christopher McDougall. I went out to Barnes and Noble a couple times in order to read this book without buying it. I made it halfway through and decided I wanted to own the book and nearly bought it but then decided to ask for it for Christmas. I will finish it later. I was surprised by how good the book is - the last running/magazine-to-book book I read was crap.
5. The Road to Virginia City: The Diary of James Knox Polk Miller ed. by Andrew Rolle. Unfortunately for writers of fiction, there is nothing more interesting than non-fiction. Unfortunately for writers of non-fiction (including my own eventual biographer, the poor bastard), there is nothing more interesting than first-person narratives. This book is the most interesting book ever. The kid was 19, an orphan, worked for his uncle in Clyde, New York, and one day took $3,500 and ran away to the West. On August 20, 1864, he wrote, "After supper Brown and myself rode to town.  En route Brown, while performing an Equestrian feat, was thrown from his horse, severely damaged."  A+++ best book ever!

(Here I was interrupted slightly by an attempt to read a book containing the sentence, "Tom stood quietly by, regarding me with the eyes of someone falling down a hill made of powdered limestone."  Is that supposed to mean something? The book remains unread and likely will remain so into perpetuity.)

6. Mountain Medicine (Original Title: The Big It and Other Stories) by A.B. Guthrie. Well. This is a collection of short stories, which is all fine and dandy until you get to the one about a dog and a mean, mean man. There's nothing to be had from this except sadness. What is the point? I am done with the West for a while.
7. The Help by Kathryn Stockett. DONE with the West so we're down in Jackson, Miss. This book is on the MSU Summer Reading list so it's not a deviation from the plan, don't you think that.  Stayed up late reading it the first night I had it, a good sign.

I may or may not have joined a book club of ladies, which means that in the coming weeks I may or may not read a book by that Krakauer fellow, and a graphic novel. Also I've found that godawful Benjamin Franklin beast but I'm not going to read it. This reading project is supposed to be fun, not Benjamin Franklin.

This is my favorite short story. Read this while listening to this.

50. Weather, running

Some announcements:

First, don't send me any more text messages. A while back I said you should, but I’ve changed my mind. The text memory in my phone is almost full. Deleting the texts I've received is inadvisable; without a complete record of my life my biographer will probably make up a bunch of stupid shit.

(I need a new phone, partly because of this storage capacity issue, and partly because the glass cover on my phone has cracked. When I discovered the crack, my feelings were hurt really bad, kicking off a week of unprecedented bad mood and histrionics.)

Second, I'm too busy reading to respond to any text messages anyway.

(I found out that probably the glass on my phone had cracked from being left in a hot car and not because I had dropped it on the pavement in some drunken and idiotic moment I can barely remember, which made me feel a lot better about myself and the world.)

It’s wintertime in Missoula, dark, cold. It’s been mighty hard to get out of bed these last couple weeks. The sun is away on its yearly trip to Australia and we miserable suckers who aren’t down there with it should just stay in bed until next June or whenever it comes back to us.

I'm not running distance so that I can become repaired over the winter. Without all that running and preparing for running and recovering from running I'll have so much free time, man - just hours and hours of nothing to do - and so I have instituted a winter reading project. Over the next three months I'm going to read everything on this list that I'm going to read. (I know it's a summer reading list rather than a winter reading list - I'm slow, I know.)

If you want, you can join my reading club, but don't expect any meetings or any discussions because there won’t be any. We won't discuss anything because we'll be too busy reading. It's not forbidden to discuss the books - if you and I perchance meet one day on the street and you wish to exegise on whether Norman Maclean's referring to his brother as "my brother" rather than by his name is humanizing or dehumanizing, you may do so. I may choose not to respond, but certainly, please, feel free to broach the subject.

I am on my third book. Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for me, I am a slow reader, so you should have no problem catching up and ultimately surpassing me. So it goes. Here's what I've read so far:

1. Double Take by Kevin Connolly. Although this is not exactly a travel memoir, I am pleased to have read it without coming down with a terrible case of wanderlust.
2. A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean. Too much fishing.
3. The Big Sky by A.B. Guthrie. So far, the kid who ripped the head off a chicken got the clap from a whore in St. Louis, and four cats have fallen off a boat into the Missouri River.

After this I will read two or three books not on my winter summer reading list, and then I will probably go back to the list, depending on the whims and flurries of time. We might want to read The Maltese Falcon along with the rest of Missoula and nation, or we might want to read Selected Works by Richard Hugo along with the rest of Montana. You might want to read Your Inner Fish by Neil Shubin along with all the freshmen on campus but I won’t be reading that as I’ve had enough of books about fishes.

My third and final announcement is that I might be switching over to a single space after a period. Typographical implications have been considered; now I evaluate the psychological effects.

p.s. Note to my biographer (who, if he’s worth his salt, will have already researched this year's weather records by the time he reads this, but you never know if he’ll instead decide to spend his huge book advance on hookers and blow and forego any actual research): In order to understand and appreciate things, you should know that it's not winter yet, nor is it not sunny. Sir, perhaps you should read The Big Sky by A.B. Guthrie. First, it would count as actual research (and I can’t do everything for you – you’ll have to put in a little bit of effort), and second, maybe the discussion of STDs will scare a little sense into you.

49. Fauna of Missoula and other communities, beer, civic engagement

Been trying to calm down and focus enough to write another informative, cohesive, exciting, and articulate newsblahg post for y'alls but I've been having massive, massive troubles doing so. So nevermind about information, cohesion, excitement, and articulation. Nevermind about all that, except for the excitement part, which is a total given.

For your reading pleasure: bullets.

• Freaking mice, taking over the freaking planet. I've lived the entirety of my life with only fleeting interactions with the bastards, but now suddenly they are everywhere - and when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere, including my last safe refuge: my childhood home. The discovery of mouse poo in the front entryway came mere weeks after my parents put down the satanic and schizophrenic Beatrix Kittylove. Is this her revenge? Is this the doings of BHO? Is this the gay agenda?
• Bears are all over the place all of a sudden, falling out of trees, stalking people on campus, biting people on their juicy thighs. Bears, people. When are you going to wake up and realize this isn't just a coincidence!
• I saw in the news the other week that BHO once again addressed our nation's schoolchildren. Remember when he tried to pull that stunt last year? Remember when he tried to tell our kids to wash their precious little god-given hands?!? I don't have kids but if I did they wouldn't have gone to school to listen to that crap. That crap belongs in the home! No one tells my kids to wash their hands except me, and I'm not going to because that's what commies do. Anyway I apparently was the only person to even notice this stunt this year. Wake up sheeple! (Is it okay to say that now, or is it outdated?)
• I bet you $500 that I get a cat within a year. Take that BHO! Take that Gay Agenda! My cat will eat your mice!
• My summer was faaaabulous, thanks. In addition to seeing someone pooping in the Northside pedestrian overpass, I: rode my bike all over the doggamn town, and... that's all, actually.  It seemed fun and eventful while it was happening.
• The highlight of my summer was seeing someone pooping in the Northside pedestrian overpass. Remember when Missoula made it illegal for everyone other than gays and scallywags to use the bathrooms? IS THIS WHAT THEY WANTED? SEE WHAT WE HAVE BEEN REDUCED TO.
• I have decided this: PBR makes me feel gross. I went to a wedding a few weeks ago and had not one or two or three etc. beers but FIVE and I was FINE. I wasn't hardly drunk at all, except for that part in the middle that I don't remember much about, but by the time I went to bed I was FINE and I didn't wake up at 3 in the morning like I usually do when I drink and I didn't feel bad AT ALL the next day because it wasn't PBR that I drank. One week later I went to a rock and roll show and had a PBR giantboy and didn't even drink the whole thing and I felt like poo the whole rest of the goddamn week. PBR makes me feel like I'm made of gravel and have mad cow disease and I shan't drink it anymore.
• I have the power to participate in the homecoming parade this year with two separate entities and I bet I'll refuse to do anything. I marched in that parade once and felt dumb. Every other year I've slept through it and been okay with that.
• If you are lucky enough to get a Christmas present from me this year, it will be crab apple jelly. If the crab apples fall through, it will be nothing.

Thanks for reading!

48. RETURN OF MOUSE

Sunday - could it have been just yesterday? - the little dog and I are enjoying the peace and tranquility of a mouse-free house, our psyches recovering after the dark trauma of Thursday night.  I'm playing the piano.  I pick out a Simon and Garfunkel tune that's been stuck in my head for 18 hours.  The little dog wags her tail after the songs she enjoys.

Later, I'm in the kitchen sitting at the table (again) and I hear some little noises (again).  I think maybe it's the thermal shade I've got down - it can be crackly.  But... after a while (I am slow), I realize with chagrin that it's not the shade, it's not rain, it's not wind.  I call the little dog over and lift up the dog crate.  Lo.  Another goddamn mouse.  The little dog attacks, the bastard mouse evades us and runs underneath a shelf.  The little dog stands guard while I ride over to Ace.  They don't have the kind of mousetrap that I threw out last Thursday.  I buy two of a different brand.  They are reusable (eeeeeeeeee!!) but not as robust.  I'm worried that 1. they won't kill, and 2. they won't enclose the mousebody and I'll have to see, like, the rump sticking out, along with the tail oh sweet jesus.

I test the traps with folded cardboard.  Snap.  I halfheartedly put some peanut butter into the traps.  I go up to bed, dreading the morning.  I hear some scuffling downstairs - the little dog is chasing something around.  Next morning, nothing - traps have not gone off.  WHAT'S NEXT.  THOSE BASTARDS.  OH GOD.

47. MOUSE IN THE HOUSE, MOUSE DEATH

Background: housesitting

Setting: old house, Northside

Foreshadowing: mousetrap by garbage can

Previously: gone for a week-long vacation; neighbors were to watch little dog; I left a bowlful of dog food in case the neighbors forgot or whatever

Scene: Sunday afternoon.  I'm sitting at the table a couple hours after returning to town.  The little dog is out on a playdate and won't be home for hours.  Suddenly a little mouse comes scurrying out from under the table and slides around the corner into the living room.  I give chase but lose the mouse near the fireplace.  A couple hours later I'm sitting at the table again and hear a strange little noise, sounds maybe like rain.  I go out to the deck, it's sunny, the noise stops.  I hear the noise again and go out to investigate - is it the wind?  It's not, the noise stops.  The noise starts again.  It takes me a while (I am slow), but I finally think, "The mouse, ah ha!"  I determine that the noise is coming from the little dog's crate, so I shut the crate door and prepare to take it outside to dump, but when I lift up the crate I find the mouse underneath eating stray dog food.  The mouse scurries to the living room again.  I get out the vacuum and clean everything.  Later I'm sitting at the table and the noise starts again.  I construct a chute system to funnel the mouse into a box.  I lift up the crate.  The monster runs straight into my chute but manages to change direction at the last second and careen over to the stove.  I bang on the stove with the garbage can to let the mouse know I do not approve of it. I disassemble the chute - brilliant plan, wily opponent.  The little dog returns from her playdate and falls asleep in her bed in the living room.  I hear the noise under the crate again.  I yell at the dog and lift up the crate - bastard mouse scurries into living room past now-awake dog - dog gives chase but loses bastard mouse by bastard fireplace.

Next day.  I'm sitting at the table.  Bastard mouse runs out from under refrigerator, sees me, runs back under refrigerator.  Bastard!  I'm rationing dog food, there's nothing lying around for the mouse to eat.  The bastard should realize it has no future here and should move on.  Also, there are ants in the dog food bowl today.  Whatever, ants!  They meet a grisly fate at my hands.

Next day.  Nothing.

Next day.  Nothing.

Next day.  The place smells funny, someone needs to take out the garbage.  But that doesn't make sense, because there's nothing in the garbage.  Maybe it's something in the refrigerator.  Neither stinks, but I decide to put the garbage outside for the night to see if that clears the air.  I pull out the garbage can.  AND THEN!  I see the mousetrap.  It has moved since the last time I saw it.  It is at a slight angle, and - the light is kind of dim and I can't really see, but is that - no, is that a little tail coming from the end of the trap?  Is it?  IS IT!  Oh god, oh god, what do I do what do I do?  I'll pretend I don't see it.  I turn on all the lights... aaaaand, great, yeah, that's a little tail coming from the trap, there's a dead mouse stinking the place up.  Someone needs to do something about it.  But not me - I will ignore it and pretend everything's okay and I'll let Jacquie deal with it when they get back.  Wait, wait, no, it's not going to get any better, if I don't deal with it tonight it will only get worse but WHAT DO I DO OH GOD.  I am a fine lady.  I call my dad.  He tells me to throw it away.  But how!  I don't want to touch it!  He tells me to put a plastic bag over my hand.  THAT DOESN'T HELP AT ALL, YOU CAN STILL FEEL EVERYTHING.  He says to put paper towels over it.  AGGHH NO WAY, THERE IS A MOUSETAIL STICKING OUT OF ONE END.  My dad refuses to make the three-hour drive to Missoula tonight and suggests I use a dustpan to aid in the disposal.  I hang up and decide to find a stick to give myself a little distance.  I find a long wand thingy for bubbles that some kid left on the porch.  I am increasingly hysterical.  The little dog comes to me, responding to the various noises I am emitting (which come alarmingly close to the stereotypical "eek").  We cower and freak out together.  Every time I eek I give myself goosebumps.  The little dog whines.  I might swoon.  You can see a bit of fur through the hole at the front end of the trap!  Probably not the bastard mouse's nose like you'd think, it's probably the top of its squished head!  Finally I steel myself and manage to get the mousetrap wedged between the dustpan and bubble wand.  I lift it into the air.  The mousetail moves, eek.  It's actually not as gross as I'd built it up to be - you can't really see anything with this newfangled mousetrap (other than the mousetail and fur).  Still, gag.  The trap is reusable but NO WAY, I'll just buy them a new mousetrap.  I deposit the soiled contraption in the garbage can.  I take the garbage out.  I go to bed.  I will tell you this story in person and I will get goosebumps.  So will you.

fin

46. Weather, health, running

Quick, let's talk while it's stopped raining - it could start again any second.

The other day I had lunch with a friend, a young friend, a very young friend - a baby practically - and we were sitting there talking about our health problems like little old ladies.  I suspect our friendship will remain the same throughout the ages and in six decades we will have the exact same conversation we had last week, except it will also include reference to prune juice and other unmentionables.

I have been thinking a lot lately and reanalyzing everything.  EVERYTHING.  I hate to admit to any weakness but I will concede that I need a little temporary help, so I've started taking vitamin D supplements.  This was actually demanded by my doctor a few weeks ago and this week I decided to acquiesce.  I started taking the little buggers last night and so far all it's done is put me in a bad mood.  This is very odd, very rare - I had been in a constant good mood for three years.  Thanks a lot, vitamin D - you're not even a real vitamin, you hormone bastard!

I'm too busy to tell you anything of consequence, but this should bring you up to date: Beach Boys -> Snow White soundtrack -> Wayne Newton -> Debussy -> The Who.

Something is wrong with my leg.  Someone needs to be getting more sleep.

45. Running, weather, ice cream

Went for an 8-mile run in the rain tonight - wasn't nothing. Eating ice cream now.

44. Health, crime blog, tires

Hi. You'll be wanting to know all about what I've been doing lately, I bet.  I'm too tired to tell you though - too tired, yes, because I'm still not entirely well.  Boy I tell ya, pertussis is terrible.  It's been months.  A few months, a few ribs, and here we are.  I'm getting better and better, every day, but I cannot completely recover until everyone gets a booster shot.  I've told everyone I know to go get one, and people seem to agree to it (perhaps to get me to leave them alone), but so far I know of zero (0) people who have actually gotten one.  Including my family members.  Perhaps I have not been graphic enough in my descriptions of the illness.  Is that it?  Is it?  If so, please read on.

First, it was like a cold.  After a week or so, moss started growing in my throat, or cat hair, or hay.  I started having fits of coughing, coughing so hard I'd have tears streaming down my face, coughing so hard I'd gag, coughing so much my abdominal muscles were sore.  I'd wake up with coughing fits four or five times a night.  My inhalations in between coughs were staggered.  After a week or so my sides were sore.  After another week my back muscles were sore, making my entire circumference sore, making everything I did extremely painful, including coughing, including moving, including going to bed.  I had the full-on whoop in between coughs - you know, when your airway is constricted so that the only bit of air that can get into your lungs makes a high-pitched whoosh on the way in.  After about three weeks of nonstop coughing and gagging and whooping and tears, the frequency of the coughs started decreasing but the intensity of the coughs increased.  I barfed on the floor once (it wasn't my floor).  I ran out of food and medicine but couldn't stop coughing long enough to go to the store for a couple days.  I was on antibiotics for 35 days and they didn't do a thing.  Then I started breaking ribs, pop pop pop.  That made my torso even sorer than before, making it extremely painful to think or even to be.  The narcotics were a bust.  Every single day was the worst day yet, culminating with spectacular misery the day the second rib popped - when that happened I couldn't even walk and I started wondering if I was ever going to get better.  Then I thought things were getting better but - cough pop pain, a third rib popped.  Then I thought things were getting better again and they really were, albeit very slowly.

I still cough a little, and still whoop a little, and my ribs still hurt a little, and it's the middle of May.  People!  Pertussis breaks ribs and kills babies!  There's a reason they invented a vaccine for it!  It's miserable!  Stop being such a jerk and go get a shot!  Honestly.  What kind of idiot catches a completely preventable illness?

Anyway, I was totally going to change this blog into a Missoula crime blog, or perhaps a Missoula health blog, but instead I think I might change it into a Missoula auto blog.  My car, as you know, is a showpiece, but for reasons that could not be helped it now smells like tires that smell like shit.  I'm hoping the smell is not permanent.  I'll let you know next time.

43. Weather, crime, other outrages

Things are pretty hairy here in Missoula these days and we are all walking around on tenterhooks. First of all, there's all this weather happening in Missoula.  One second it's sunny, the next second it's snowing.  In April!  It's completely outrageous.  It could be argued that crazy weather happens every spring in every place in the entire world, but... it's outrageous!  Right now it's not snowing - can you believe it?

Second, we here in Missoula cannot stop robbing pharmacies.  It's hard to say why, although obviously the culprit is OBAMANOMICS which has driven us to destitution, and also we really like drugz.  Here's a tragic fact: I am immune to opiates.  I was disappointed to discover this.  Last month I got the cough syrup with codeine.  Everyone told me how great it would be.  But I'd take some and it would do nothing, and then I'd take some more and still nothing.  Now I'm taking hydrocodone.  Again, everyone told me how great it would be, it was much hyped.  Excited, I took the first pill, anticipating great things.  Nothing.  Boring.  (Also, painful.  Painkiller, hello?)  I can't really understand why people would enjoy it so much they'd decide to steal it.  I can think of much better things to steal, like tennis rackets or new pillows - things that would actually be useful.  Hydrocodone?  Stupid!  It doesn't do anything at all!

Third, there's this whole issue about the gay homos wanting to use Missoula bathrooms.  Can you imagine!  It's outrageous.  Early this morning, the city council passed an ordinance requiring all the women and children in Missoula to marry cross-dressing rapists, even if it's against their religion.  Previously, the only refuge fine ladies like myself had from pedophiles in dresses was the bathroom.  But now we have no protection.  Where do I run to now if I see them coming at me on the street?  I don't know!  Also, if you are a family of four and some confused person wanders into your bathroom and wants to rent it, you have to rent it to them now, even if you don't want to.  I tell you what, it is terrifying.  I am terrified to go to the bathroom now and have been holding it for the past 18 hours and 45 minutes (and counting).  Which is uncomfortable, because I've been drinking a lot of kombucha lately.  What everyone but me forgets when they're talking about this issue is, what about the children?  The children!  It makes me so ANGRY.

After a quick but highly intelligent skimming of a webpage on the internet, I have determined the secret hidden agenda of the ordinance: the GRAMMATICAL DEGRADATION OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.  They're going to require everyone to stop using masculine and feminine pronouns and start using the neuter pronoun - which, as everyone knows, takes EXACTLY THE SAME FORM in the nominative and in the accusative!  The commie-lib-concrete-dwelling linguistic prescriptivists in the Missoula City Council are ultimately trying to do away with the case system!  But not with MY pronouns.  I refuse to give up my American heritage.  My ancestors created those cases!  All these illegals today want to get rid of them just like that?  No thank you ma'am.  I for one am someone whom won't stop using the case system my ancestors so painstakingly created.  We have just shards remaining of the genitive and the dative, and the precious pronominal remains of the accusative need to be cherished and preserved like old dried rose petals in vases that gather dust and don't smell good anymore anyway.  Oh, don't even talk to me about the syntax picking up the slack in indicating grammatical relations.  Syntax?  Please.  And - just between you and I - I would also like to see the creation of English ablative and allative cases.  Latin had them, why can't we?

(By the way, guess what else I found out on the internet!  About all those earthquakes... it's Mother Earth giving birth to, um, either Jesus or The Beast, I'm not sure which [because I didn't finish reading the blog post about it]. It's one of them, one or the other.  I mean, it's God, not Mother Earth [because the earth is a PAGAN].  God just really doesn't like Joe Biden [because Joe Biden said the f-word {also known as the 'f-bomb' - bomb! BOMB! Coincidence? Of course not.}].)

I'm obsessed with surf music and can't think about anything else right now, so I have to end this entry as soon as I extend the following internet threat: if I find out you haven't gotten a pertussis booster shot I will KILL you in 3-5 weeks when I can fight again.

42. Health, technology, philosophy

Kids, I'm still sicker than any dog has ever been. Last week my doctor told me I need to "rest", which I think means modern medicine can do nothing more for me and he's had to resort to old-fashioned metaphors for death. My last days will be spent in pain, as I seem to have damaged a rib coughing today. Also my last days will be spent all hopped up on chemicals. I tried to get off the smack but now have a prescription for (among other things) something called "prometh". PROMETH. More teeth will be lost, I suspect, as will more lives. A shame. Listen to me: Spring haircuts may be tempting, maybe all your friends are doing it, but resist! It's been my downfall, and it will be yours.

The internet and I kind of think I have parapertussis. (Ed. w/clever <strike> to update medical condition.)

And now we turn our focus to technology.

As a philosopher, I'm always talking about how we're trapped in prisons of our own making. I oftentimes accompany this self-important rambling with the parable of the family dog, who was terrified of vacuum cleaners but insisted on being in the same room with you, even if you were vacuuming, so he'd end up being terrorized, constantly, by the vacuum.

Point 1, text plan. Guess what! I got a text plan! What prompted this vast shift in ideology for me is that I've been super popular since I got back to town. All these fools sending me texts. So one day I'm all, aww f*^k it dawg, and I call my sister (she's in charge of the phones, it's a family plan) and I was all, sign me up for a text plan yo! So she did. I could have done it eons ago, although I didn't need a text plan back when I only got like 4 texts a month. But lately it's become a prison, a prison! So, the plan. I think it will help me make friends.

Point 2, phone battery. My phone's battery started dying over a year ago. I never talk on the phone, I use it as an answering machine and alarm clock, but also I couldn't talk on the phone because it would die. Well, I am pleased to announce that I have escaped that prison as well and have purchased a new battery and now could talk for hours and hours if I wanted to. But the fact remains that I hate talking on the phone. So don't call me, send me a text. If I don't write back it's because I'm being persnickety and not because I want to respond but don't want to pay the eleven dollars it would cost to send a text without a plan. (Or maybe it's just taking me a really long time to type the stupid message, as I am still the kind of person who takes 15 minutes to compose a text and walks into trees while doing it.) (I really did walk into a tree last week, but maybe it was because of all the drugs and not because of the texts.)

Point 3, laptop battery. This has also been dying for over a year. Still trapped in that prison. They're expensive though.

41. Weather, traffic, health update

Greetings from sunny Missoula MT! It is uncharacteristically sunny today (it has been sunny on my birthday only one other year of my very long life) and the sunshine is the result of my extremely powerful DJ abilities. I played sunny songs on my show last week and what's happened? You're welcome.

I went to Dairy Queen last night and it was barferiffic. I may have perhaps overestimated or exaggerated my passion for frozen desserts, but probably the reason it was gross was that I didn't get a chocolate nut whip, a mistake which I ought to rectify asap.

One of the things homeless people like to do is drive their beautiful cars around, so that's what I've been doing a lot lately. And so I am now kind of a huge expert on Missoula traffic signals. (I might change the focus of this blog from weather to traffic.) I came to this place from Seattle, and in Seattle they've got the traffic signals timed so that once you hit a green light you will always hit a green light no matter what you do. It makes driving through downtown Seattle an incredibly peaceful and pleasant experience. But in Missoula - oh, in Missoula we have the signals timed so that if you hit one green light you will never hit another green light ever again. Red lights everywhere. It's so dumb! So dumb! Dumb!



Facebook has no idea where in the world I am and it lies about how it figures out your timezone.

And now for an engaging and detailed account of my personal well-being:

I have been sick since 22:00 on December 30, 2009. As it turns out, I've got bacterial and viral infections. I am not a doctor but I should have become one, because I have a keen and intuitive understanding of the human body. Here's what I believe to be happening inside of me: In my sinuses, which, as far as I know, are comprised of a large room behind my nose - a room that is supposed to be empty or occasionally have a stalactite or stalagmite of booger - a large mass of snot has been hanging out since New Years Eve. This snotcloud was supposed to exit through the front door (called the 'nose') but, drunk and confused, instead tried to exit through my ears, which is impossible and attempts at which are uncomfortable (can't hear!). And so the snot went on a bender, having a months-long cocktail party in my head, and has stayed in the room of sinus behind my nose to party itself to death, rot and fester. This is dangerous, because its zombie snotcloud corpse could eat through the lining to my brain and attack my cerebral cortex etc., maybe.

Meanwhile, also, bad things were happening in my throat and lungs - viral things - and I probably could have died!

I got antibiotics to kill off the bugs and mold growing in my sinuses, and I also got pseudoephedrine - meth, practically - to eviscerate the petulant snotcloud altogether. So far nothing has really changed, even though I've practically been on meth for five days. I've lost three teeth and yesterday I killed some dude, I've scratched my legs off, but my head is still vaguely snotty.

All I ever want to do is take a nap (in spite of the meth) but there's too much going on to do that. Too much going on!

I totally have plans to start running again this week.

40. Weather, tragic storage practices

Missoula MT, dark and dreary, glumpy and groomy. It gets dark so early! How do people live like this?

As everyone who knows anything knows, there is no point at all in being here when the Dairy Queen on Higgins is closed. It's too hard to deal with. I am pleased to report that it's open again and I am back in town.

I haven't been to the Dairy Queen yet - it's too far out of the way. It's out in the middle of nowhere. No one lives over there. Why is it so far away? When the Dairy Queen was built way back when, Higgins Avenue was probably a rural highway.

I predict sun the next few days, and also I predict that I will go to the Dairy Queen very soon. Tomorrow will be three minutes and thirteen seconds longer than today.

What kind of moron cannot anticipate future music obsessions and packs her Beach Boys albums in boxes hidden deep in the cavernous depths of her storage unit?

Missoula, we're hanging by a thread.

39. Weather in various locations

Good morning. I am not writing to you from Missoula MT because I have left that place. It was a dark day, the day I left Missoula - a dark day indeed. It was as if the place were saying to me, "Go away please." I brought the rain with me to LA, although it took a while for it to find me - the evening I arrived and the next morning were lovely, and then in the afternoon the rain rolled in and soaked all those poor people attending the Golden Globes. I've since hopped over the ocean and the rain hasn't made it this far yet. It's quite summery here, in fact. In fact, it's quite sunny and quite hot.

I'll be back in Missoula whenever. If I decide to internet in a literary fashion, and I'm not saying I will (because I kind of don't feel like it at all), it will be here. Yes, the name is clever and hilarious. TTFN.

38. Weather, devolution

Good evening. I write to you from Missoula MT, which for the past few mornings has been covered by a dastardly fine layer of ice (unnoticeable to me and my snow tires). Apparently also the days have been dark and gray, although I haven't noticed. Oh what's the point in trying to talk about the weather here, when there's such tough competition at the Missoulian? I can't be that cute! I won't do it anymore.

My life has devolved into that of a couch-hopper. My journal has devolved into a collection of to-do lists. My most current to-do list includes the following item:

• write list

Tuesday night I wrote a list of songs to play on my radio show, the most preparation I've done in six months (if not three years). Here's a list of things I've accomplished in the last week:

• moved out
• went home
• got resickened
• got new shoes
• changed the power back to the owner of my old house
• sent in receipts to the insurance company, now I twiddle my thumbs to see what comes back
• moved my bike to campus to wait for my return

I am full of good ideas (as you well know) and the name of my Australia travelblog will be blaugstralia.blogspot.com. Or it might be blaustralia. I haven't decided.

Can't stop coughing. Good night.