Go get some Midol™!

Friday... What a day! I was at work till 23:30. By choice? No freaking way! You can thank the Evil Project Manager for that! Let's see... EPM had scheduled a downtime of a server migration for April 27 at 18:00 Central. EPM notified me of this downtime on Wednesday April 25, which gave me just a two-day notice. At first I thought it was no big deal, as I wasn't particularly in the mood of doing whatever it was that I had planned that Friday evening. What was infuriating was that I later found out that the EPM had known of the April 27 downtime since April 19! Bastard!!!

But even with the EPM cramping my style, it did little to deter me from having an awesome weekend. After a brief nap upon returning home on Friday night, I woke up at 07:15 and ran eight miles with my friend who was training for a half marathon. At first I thought I would only run four miles of it, and then hop on a CTA bus, because I have not run in a long time. Before I knew it, the whole eight miles were completed. I even asked, "Was that it? I could go for more!"

On the way home, we stopped for some real breakfast at a real American diner, complete with a center counter and fixed stools. I whined like a little kid when they sat us at a regular booth, because where else can you experience a true diner a la Americana in its purest form? Obviously I don't count Johnny Rockets a true diner, because they are modern establishments dressed specifically for the old feel. No, no, no. The diner we went to had old style electric plugs under the counter, and regular coffee pot warmers attached to it. Hell, even the pepper shaker was so old and yellow that I thought it was mustard! Ah... That's the way I like it! {With a little dash of hope that I wouldn't get some gastrointestinal problems afterwards.}

I started out with a large glass of orange juice, with a scrambled egg with spinach sandwich, while my friend had two eggs, hash brown, and a hunky slice of ham. I was starving so much that I couldn't help but stare at her plate of food when I was done in just a couple minutes flat. So I ordered another breakfast. Yesireebob! I felt it was justified, seeing how I ran eight miles just within the hour. So I got myself a pancake special: two pancakes, chopped ham, and two eggs sunny side up. Yum yum yum!!!

After I got home, I relaxed for a little bit before another friend and his wife swung by and picked me up. Destination? DePaul Ray Meyer Sports Center. I know this sounds really crazy, but I had a basketball game to play, because about a month ago I joined a basketball league. As our game wasn't starting till 14:00, some of my teammates and I practiced and played two on two because most of us have not played basketball in a long time. After screwing around for an hour plus the first half of our actual competition, I went and got water and started to just putz around on the court during half time.

After shooting around from the top of the paint, I went in for an easy lay up. But as soon as I jumped up on my left foot, a sharp pain struck me out of nowhere. Before long, I found myself crashing to the floor and rolled over like a piece of log someone had just tossed up. I let out a loud scream and looked at my left leg. Holy molly! My left calf was huge and well-defined, just as you would find in a body builder while flexing his muscle. But the problem was that I wasn't flexing my calf muscle at all. I had a cramp! Really, really bad!

My teammates rushed over and asked what was wrong. In between my grimacing, I mustered out, "Cramp!" Then I asked my teammate who arrived on the scene first to push, thinking that calf cramp is a common basketball injury that he would know what to do. As I laid on my back wailing my arms around with phantom tears rolling down my cheeks, he bent my knee and lifted my left leg. "No, no! Push! Push my foot!" Then he straightened my leg, lifted it up, and started pushing my leg past 90 degrees! What the hell is he doing? He better not be trying to catch a glimpse of my underwear, that perv! By this time, my other teammates came and realized what to do. Hold my heel with one hand, and push my foot by the toes towards me to stretch out the calf muscle. Ah... The pain went down, but not by much.

Damn, it hurt so bad that I actually still felt some residual pain long after the cramp attack. Walking on my left leg was painful, as my left calf was still sore and tender. So I sat out of the game for the first sixteen minutes of the second half. We were up by almost fourteen points at the half, but by the time I got back into the game, the other team had cut down our lead by just four points! Talk about pressure. But in the end, we still won the game. By a single point! Of course, I'm not saying that my absence on the court made all the difference, but it does make you think, huh? ;-)

After I showered and started to towel dry myself in the bathtub, I noticed that both my ankles were somewhat puffy from all the running and jumping. Oh my God! I have pregnancy ankles!!! As if running eight miles and playing a basketball game weren't enough, I then went out to Sluggers and danced the night away after enjoying Cupid Has a Heart On. Miller Lites consumed? I think I lost count. Number of songs I danced to? Probably around thirty. Number of times I went down? Too many damn times for my legs' own good. Good thing alcohol was a good substitute for pain killers.

Unfortunately, getting home all buzzed at 03:25 in the morning was not exactly conducive to helping a friend move at 09:20. I did try to wake up though. But both my entire legs and my back hurt! Holly molly! So naturally, back to bed I went, before waking up again at 11:45. Then my other friend called, asking if I was still up to enjoying the beautiful Sunday out playing a pickup football game with his friends. Sure, why not? That was a decision that I would later come to regret. Instead of just taking it easy and having a relaxing game, I went all out and hustled up and down the field. After a couple hours of self torture, I finally did it.

After I caught the ball and shook lose my defender, I ran a good eleven yards towards the right side of the field to avoid another defender. Somehow my mind still believed that I was still young and fit like as when I was in high school, so the competitive side of me decided to plant my right foot down, spin a 360 and cut left to shake off the second defender. Of course, my sore body failed to oblige. Instead of spinning around, my tired and sore right leg just flopped, and while my body was trying to spin, the entire momentum continued going to the right of the field, which my body ended up tumbling to the ground like a freshly chopped tree. Along the way, with the aid of my full 188.5 pounds of lard and stupidity, I ended up spraining my right ankle.

GREAT!!!

Then I continued playing the rest of the day as a quarterback. One who could not throw with any accuracy more than twenty-five yards out. That sucks! And being injured was just like rubbing salt in my wound.

So now, it is Monday. I can barely walk or sit. My right shoulder hurts. I have pain in parts of my lower ass that I never thought muscles existed. My whole back aches. Both my legs are burning, and I still have that residual pain in my left calf. Not to mention a very painful sprained right ankle. And I also noticed that my second toe is bruised from all the running. If the weather wasn't so damn nice this past weekend, I would never have overextended myself! Maybe someone can provide me with Midol™ to take care of both the cramp and all the aches and pain I'm experiencing now. =)

Are You White?

Sunday morning, March 25th. The forecast called for rain, but it turned out to be a beautiful and sunny day. Temperatures on marquee signs at different banks read somewhere between 75 and 80 degrees. Given the inaccuracies of bank temperatures, it was a good day nonetheless. At least a good day for the Shamrock Shuffle 8K race.

This year's Shuffle was a little bit more organized as far as human traffic goes. As a result of this advanced, brilliant organization, the lot of us got stuck quite far back in the crowd amongst the open division. We were staged in the area with the 12 minute mile pacers! Ugh.

As a result, it took about 12 minutes for us to cross the starting line. GPS unit ready on my wrist, we started running. My bad. We started jogging slower than we can walk. But it was fun nonetheless. The company of friends, and the energy of the crowd. It all made for a pleasant run. Running a slower pace was a combination of my recent weight gain, the lack of sleep the night prior, and the result of a friend's evil plan to get me drunk late into the night at some restaurant that just so happened to be reviewed on the show Check Please! that very evening!

I can't really hold her at fault entirely, because what's that saying? That's right, I remember now. You can't rape the willing. But that's beside the point.

After about half of mile into running the Shuffle, our little group broke up into two. A slow group, and an even slower one. I fell into the former. And for the first time ever, I ran a steady pace without any effort, and I chatted almost the entire four plus miles! What a great way to catch up with a friend on each others' otherwise uninteresting lives. And best of all, my sides didn't hurt, as they usually do when I talk and run at the same time, a result of unsynchronized breathing methodology.

After the brisk five mile run, I was not the least bit tired, and was ready to run another lap around the exact same course. But of course hunger would take precedence. Instead of waiting in long lines lasting almost an hour to get our petty free beer, a few of us opted to go to Duffy's on Diversey for an all-you-can-eat brunch, with unlimited mimosas inclusive. All for just $15.95. What's not to love, besides the half hour we had to wait, which wasn't so bad as we were not unaccompanied with our favorite breakfast alcoholic drink. Mine was a Bloody Mary.

Two additional servings past the point when I said I was full, a song broke out in this rather loud bar that caters to pathetic fraternity boys and sorority girls. Undoubtedly it was one of my favorite songs, if not the best: O.A.R.'s Crazy Game of Poker. By this point in time, I may have had four or eight mimosas, but hey! Who's counting anyway? So I sang along at the top of my lungs in an attempt to drown out the song blasting over the speakers, but I must also add that I failed miserably.

My companion had never heard of this song, to which I reacted in shock. How can she not know the greatest song ever?!? A quick glance around the bar told her what she needed to know. All these pretty frat boys and ridiculously annoying sorority girls know the song, as they too were singing along to it. A smile came upon a face before looking at me with all seriousness: "Are you white?"

Fast forward to tonight. Time had passed, and I had a few moments to think about this. Briefly, of course, as I interrupted myself with a undeserved giant chocolate shake from Häagen-Dazs. Incidentally, the shake itself, as mightily tasty as it was, was definitely unworthy of the six dollars they commanded. Unless they believed wholeheartedly that they should find it ethical to charge a dollar for each hundred calories they produced.

Anyway, so I thought about the question that was imposed upon me. I don't listen to gangster rap. I may not listen to most of the top 40 pop music that are constantly shoved down our ear canals, but I surely do enjoy the popular alternative rock music. It may be considered well known and internationally recognized if you judge music by its quick recognition throughout the world. Tool? Yes. Nine Inch Nails? Yes. The Killers? Yes. Muse? Yes.

But there was a point in time when the world didn't know who the Dave Matthews Band was. Yes, I love them for a long time, since before they made it big on the world scene of music before Everyday. Statistically speaking, the majority of DMB fans are mostly white kids who mostly happen to enjoy some doobie doby doo on the side. You might refer to it as Mary Jane. But so what? Phish? Yes.

But what about Guster? Or O.A.R.? Damn! She totally got me! I realized that such music typically catered to fans that are statistically not me. Or the black guy next door. Or my Hispanic buddies. Or my French, or German, or Italian, or Japanese, or Filipino friends. Damn! O.A.R.? Totally white hippie crowd's kind of music, despite the fact that one of the O.A.R. band members is Asian.

Now I'm left with bewilderment as to how I have become this person that I am today. Of all the worldly influences while growing up, I now claim most music best enjoyed with alcohol, happy-go-lucky girls, and Mary Jane as my kind of music! Sigh... I can only imagine the disappointment in my parents' eyes. But you know what? I may not be a whitey, but I sure as hell love O.A.R.!

From this day forth, let it be known that I am in love with strange tunes that are typically loved by the hippie college frat boys and sorority girls! Ain't no shame in that! =)

Holy Crap!

Not only was I swamped at work today, but so many things popped up in my news radar that I was not able to blog anything personal or funny today! It was so much that I had to filter it down to just three news blogs. After all, I'd like to go to sleep some time, you know? Especially after today's horrible commute, considering how stupid some drivers can be. But I guess they were just being super, extra careful to prevent huge pileups like the one that occurred in the Chicagoland this morning. (Videos and pictures.) Sigh... I can only imagine what my commute tomorrow morning will be like...