First Farmville and now this...

Scrabble is taking over my office. This is what I just heard from my desk:
“Just because you found some sketchy online dictionary that says that it was a 14th century Scottish word, DOES NOT MAKE IT LEGAL!”

I watched Meet the Robinsons with some friends last weekend (sweet movie) and two of my close friends told me that the villian, "Bowler Hat Guy" reminded them of me in his mannerisms. Thanks, guys. Actually this was the most awesome villian ever, so I'm flattered.

The time Jessica and Marta trained for a marathon OR The time Marta lost her mind and Jessica went along for the run

While I was home for Thanksgiving, shortly after filling myself with turkey and can-shaped cranberry sauce, I got a message from Marta that said “I was thinking about it, and I think we should run a marathon.”

My first inclination was to notify the texter that they had somehow switched phones with my roommate, Marta because SURELY Marta hadn’t texted this. If I had to pick one thing I know about Marta in my now 6 years of history with her, it’s that she really likes rice pudding and she will eat as much of it as you give/let her in one sitting. If I got to pick a second thing though, it would be that she hates running. Marta is a Mennonite (i.e. pacifist) but if Running were a person, she would kick it in the shins and squirt lemon juice in its eyes.

I remember bringing Marta for night time running excursions back in our Freshmen/Sophomore days. We would get one mile out and turn around and she was convinced, even after doing this route 10 times, that she COULD NOT go further. “I just don’t think I’m ready!” she’d cry. Throughout each run there would be mutters/pants of “I always forget how much I hate this.”

Thus, I was surprised by Marta’s suggestion. After verifying her identity, I reminded Marta that marathons consisted of running and a lot of it. And that she would have to run all the time to train for it- It wasn't just running 26.2 miles in one shot. She persisted that some chubby people at her home church ran one and that if they could do it, we could/should.

Intrigued by the proposition, I consented. I have a tendency towards making decisions that commit my time, money and/or body spur of the moment. Examples I can site off the top of my head are a tattoo and a season of highschool field hockey. If nothing else, "training" will be great exercise. Plus, if I run a marathon, I can brag about it in that nonchalant, yeah-I'm-basically-the-man sort of way. Are you kidding me? I will drop that shit into conversation all the time. Someone will be like "I got the best Indian food last, night. Have you guys ever been to Passage to India?" and I'll be all "GUYS, I RAN A FRIGGIN MARATHON LAST YEAR."

ANYWAY. I'm not actually convinced that we're going to run one, so I am more thinking this "training" nonsense as Marta and I just going running more often lately.

We just completed our first week of "training" (which will always be in " " because it implies that there is going to be a marathon and I'm not conviced this is going to occur). Our first night was ridiculous because it ended in us getting of course and in our efforts to get back to the road we wanted to be on, crossing railroad tracks, climbing an old wooden stair case, scaling a wall and squeezing our bodies through a fence. I should really commit an entry just to this run but I am running (ha!) out of steam now.

Anyhoo. Marathon. I'm interested to see where this goes.

Note to self:

One of my co-workers said that she sets an alarm on her phone to go off every Fri/Sat at 11:45p.m. that says “do not be a slut.” This may be the funniest thing I have ever heard.

good morning, jessica

This morning, I put on pants I haven’t worn for a month because they’ve been at the dry cleaners and they are tight. Not tight as in hella cool either. Tight as in tight. I mostly blame my department director for this because she has been force feeding us scones and bagels and Reese’s peanut butter cups lately. Sitting in my cubicle getting fatter by the minute I feel like veal. I guess it doesn’t help that I’ve been putting Nutella on my toast in the morning. SPEAKING of which, I realized JUST before getting to work, after I had already been on public transportation for an hour (i.e. out in PUBLIC) that I had a spot of Nutella on my face. Maybe my potential future husband passed me today and thought “wow, she’s gross” and now I will surely die alone. Also, what do I have to do not to have someone sit next to me on the train? Suggestions? I’m thinking I will start muttering to myself. Maybe thrash about a little. Ok. Work time.