Ridin' Nerdy

What I love right now? Right this very second? LSAT Logic in Everyday Life on iTunes Podcasts. I'm listening to a podcast about jury selection right now. I think the man featured in this episode is the only other person (besides myself) I've ever heard that actually would LOVE to be picked for jury duty...

Get in My Belly

Get in My Belly

I think it's because my dad was...is...an entrepreneur: I always root for the little guy. For the small business. Or...correction...the fabulous small business.
A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of getting acquainted with a mom from Calvin's preschool. We got to talking about running when I mentioned that she should come into the rockstar sports store that I get to work at: CK Sports. She came in, got fitted for shoes...and we talked about, among other sundry things, chocolate. She works in the family business of chocolate. No kidding. That is her job: chocolate. Her brother-in-law is a chocolatier...which I'm assured is different than a musketeer. Even though it rhymes. But, as usual, I digress. So, yes. That is his job title. Could a better job actually exist??? I think not...and that is beside the point.
Anyway, she finishes up and leaves. I'm happier for making a new friend. AND THEN...she brings us (Jacob and I) SAMPLES of her favorite chocolates: bacon chocolate truffle and caliente truffle. I have never tasted a chocolate so distinctively decadent and unique in all my...ahem...29 years of chocolate-admiring. So! I thought I'd share this precious little gem with you. They were recently written up in the Dallas edition of Daily Candy. For those of you not familiar with that website, it's an online review of all things cool and hip and wonderful in a particular region...not just food...and certainly not just candy. So, give it a look-see. And should you feel so inclined? Go ahead and order a box...and feel free to send it to me.

Follow Up on Killing Links...

Jason: You are a brave man. I'm a little surprised that you commented on the Link Kill before the Car and Driver...
Before the follow up, there are some things...caveats to be more precise. Know that I am PAINFULLY shy in certain settings. At least I thought I was. So, a few of my friends went to a follow up class at the actual studio. I, of course, found a bunch of reasons to be late and only went to half of the class. Guess what? My lats are STILL sore, and my core got a total work out. And for someone who has been hobbled from her fave sport? That's appealing. That's what the very athletic dude part of me wants to comment on...but...hmmmmm. As I write this? I wonder if I should start a totally new (and private...or anonymous) blog just for this. Ha! Ok. Let's see who's paying attention.
1. Looking for blog titles. Sassy suggestions?
2. Any subscription interest?

The Effect of Blogging on Metrosexual Individuals (...but not really)

There is a little too much Morgan Spurlock in me for my own good:  I like social...observation, experimentation, and certainly annotation. I ask a lot of questions, inappropriately personal and otherwise. For example: I ran into someone I've spoken to at the gym a few times last night at Target. We chatted, and somehow the topic of airplane phobias came up. Without missing a beat, I went into DSM-IV mode and proceeded to ask a relative stranger about control issues, trust, and childhood trauma. Honest to goodness curious. Sigh.
I also love to observe unique social groups in relative context. The culture surrounding youth football in Texas starring in my most recent series. This year has been a bit of a bust as more than half the season has been rained out. If only I'd thought to keep some of the league director's cautionary conduct letters to the parents. Hmmm. I may have to look for some of those.
I'd even considered working at Walmart for 30 days so I could a) be a regular contributor to People of Walmart and b) watch people.
ANYWAY...in the most round-about way possible, I'm getting to the point of this post: Eric L. So, Eric knows I like to write...about...stuff...as indexed above...and mentioned that he'd love to be in a post. Well, poor Eric. I don't think he wanted to be in a post like this. He also happened to mention this when I was talking to his general manager and the sales manager where he works. So, I sputter the first thing that pops into my head (praise ADD + poor impulse control): "would that be a metro commentary on men that wear more expensive jeans than I do?" His skin flushed pink. So, again, I mouth off the first thing that pops into my head (isn't there medication I can take for this?): "oh my gosh! Are you blushing?! You're blushing!"
I have NO idea if he will talk to me after today.

Under 5 Seconds From the Other Room

Recently, I've been thinking about things in terms of "Top 10s". Very Letterman of me, I know. Movies, among other things...see car post ...come to mind. You know what I left out of my mental movie list? The Mad Max series. It didn't even occur to me until I was washing up this evening, and I heard the tv go on in the other room. In under 5 seconds, from the other room, WITH NO DIALOGUE, I KNEW it was Road Warrior. Simply by the score and the engine sounds. Thhhaaaaaaaaaaat's impressive.
Ok. After watching a little more, it's kind of creepy. What's with those chaps? But still. Iconic.

I Don't Speak Car & Driver

...but if I did, I'd actually care about performance and what's under the hood. Which I...don't.
My dad is either contagious or we have more in common than my mom has previously accused...I mean...noticed. My dad loves cars. Beaters. Luxury. Trucks. Sports. Racing... Of course, he satisfied his love of beater cars by making sure that's all I ever drove growing up. (Spoiled brat, right?)
His house...or that part of it that my mom allows him to trash...is littered with car magazines and Craigslist print outs. Naturally, I can't ignore that flood of imagery as I, too, love cars. Here's what would be in my garage if I were an ostentacious...professional football player. Wait. Baseball player. I don't think they have salary caps...

Jeep Wrangler Rubicon with 4 doors.

Audi Q7...there's just something...about them.

Audi TT Roadster

Toyota Land Cruiser...old. New. Doesn't matter.
BMW Z4 Roadster
1960s era convertible Mercedes Benz...1965?
1986 Saab...convertible
Mercedes G Class (love that big boxy look)
MGB...19...7...3? That was a good year.
1979 Porsche 911

And This is Where I Kill the Link to My Facebook

Because I have three friends that will find this WILDLY amusing, I have to share it. On general principle. And if I don't hear from the three of you (via e/voicemail), I'm totally gonna call you out.
Someone, please ask me what I am doing Monday night. As much as I seem the total extrovert, I'm NOT a performer. I don't relish the idea of people looking at me (unless, of course, it's to comment on my shoes...). So, the idea of attending a POLE-DANCING fitness class is alternatively horrifying and...intriguing.
Horrifying because I keep flashing on that one scene from True Lies (which I was going to link but...) when Jamie Lee Curtis (who is awesome) takes a total digger mid-er...uh...performance. Horrifying because people actually do this for a living.
Intriguing...for some really weird reasons. I think I'm one to have grown into my athleticism and, dare I say?, grace: I'm curious to know if I could do it. Everyone I know who has taken these classes has commented on how physically demanding (I know, I know...I couldn't think of a better double entendre) they are. Followed by an aside: "those strippers are in great shape!"
Under 'normal' circumstances...and given my obvious trepidation, I'd probably opt for a core class at the gym. However, the owner of the run store I work at has different ideas. She is hosting this fitness...er...class? demonstration? and asked me to work...it.
I'm blushing already.