At the beginning of this month I was going to write a post about how much I hate August, but I never could come up with the reason for the hate. Sure August is hot, there’s not a holiday in it, and it’s back to school time (which means Girl Scouts is starting up soon), but those aren’t reasons to really hate the month the way I do. I’ve spent the past 26 days trying to put my finger on where my hatred for it comes from and all I’ve got is that August sucks.

I could take the easy route and say that Hurricane Katrina happened in August and yeah, that did suck and so damn you August! But I’m not convinced it’s that. The hurricane hit so late in the month that my life didn’t really turn to shit until September. And I have no ill feeling about September. If anything, I like September more because it means August is gone. Goodbye August, don’t let September hit you in the ass on the way out!

Last August jparks and I moved into our house, and I feel like I should be able to look back on it and remember August of 07 fondly. We bought a house! It’s the ultimate adult purchase! It’s the foundation I needed to start building my family! And yet, it doesn’t make me like August any more than I did previously. In fact, when I look back on August of last year all I can remember is getting really frustrated with various painters and puking while movers slowly packed my apartment into a van. I bet none of that would have happened if I had moved in October. (which is my favorite month. Yay October! I love you like a fat kid I love cake)

The moral of the story is that August just sucks. It sucks for no good reason, other than the fact that some month has to be my least favorite and August won that title. I guess I better starting planning now to not get pregnant in December because dammit, I will not have an August baby. That child would be a cross between Damien, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Problem Child and, seeing as how it’s going to have some of jparks DNA, my child will not need any extra help being a handful.

On Sunday I set out to run 18 miles. Unfortunately I did not actually complete the full 18 miles. At mile 10 my knee started to hurt but I was about 4 miles from my car. My options were either I plow through the pain and run back to the car or die on a bench on the side of the road. I can honestly say that the bench might have been the smarter option but I’m dumb so I ran back to my car. I ended up finishing the day with only 14 miles completed and, since I had set out to do more than that, I wasn’t allowed to have a post run doughnut. My running rules suck. I think I need a backup treat for days when I don’t run as far as I had wanted. Something as tasty as a doughnut, but not as indulgent. Does such a thing exist?

After my morning of running, jparks and I headed to a birthday dinner for a friend’s daughter. I warned our hosts that I might eat them out of house and home and I don’t think I let them down. They had a lovely heirloom tomato salad and I think I ate about half of it. And it was meant for 9 people. I probably should have been embarrassed by my rapid consumption of all the food but HUNGRY.

After eating myself sick, the hunger was replaced by TIRED. Not like, “gee, I could take a nap” tired, it was more like “I can’t function as a human, please come lower me onto the toilet and then lift me off of it, because that much work is too much” tired. Once we got home I resisted sleep as much as possible and, like a toddler, I got myself all worked up about something and started the irrational kind of crying that jparks can’t help but laugh at. I’m fairly certain I was all worked up because I realized I had been giving Lily exactly half as much medicine as she was supposed to get and that’s why she’s still sick. Hi, I suck as a dog mom, imagine how awesome I’m going to be as a human mom. And that thought was enough to make me cry big, wet, can’t catch my breath tears.

After much sobbing and “waaaa, I suck! Dog protective services is going to come take Lily away!” jparks knocked me out with some tylenol with codeine (my prescription is about to run out and it is seriously good for the night after a long run. How do I get more without seeming like a junkie? I mean, you can’t really ask a doctor for more tylenol with codeine, can you?) I slept a full night, dead to the world, but still woke up this morning feeling like I could sleep some more. I got through my day at work with no additional caffeine, but it was a long, tedious day and I routinely felt like I was about to fall asleep on my keyboard.

I’m home now and, after about two sips of wine, I feel like I’m about to pass out on the couch. I’ve given Lily her correct dose of medicine and cleaned up the dinner dishes so I see no reason not to go to bed, even thought it’s still early. (8:30 early to be exact) This is definitely the one side effect of running I never saw coming, the constant exhaustion. Who would have thought long distance running would take so damn much out of you.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Man, I didn’t know you would all be so accepting of my incoherent whining. I’m impressed! Maybe I’ll whine all the time from now on. It was hoooootttt today. I was sweeeeaating. Whiiiiiiine.

Kidding. I’ll cut that shit out now. It was even annoying to me.

Today has been a little bit better. Lily went to the vet and was diagnosed as having an upper respiratory infection. She got a shot, which I had to hold her during (okay, I lied, will whine one more time. She was so pathetic when she got the shot. She yipped and cried and it broke my heaaaaart) and some medicine to take for about a week. I bribed her with peanut butter when we got home so she would forgive me for holding her during the shot. That dog owns me.

Then jparks went to the doctor for a mole and the doctor was all “You might have cancer” so that is fun. I’m totally not freaking out about this yet, I’m waiting until they slice a piece of his leg off and do a biopsy on it. Then I might freak out, so if you see a post that’s just “ejhrgniwrotnviegwhcwng CANCER cwioehfcngoegurghn JPARKS neirncgovtbcrnfoxewg!” you’ll know what’s going on.

After that bit o’fun I went to the doctor (we were all about medical treatment today in the Parks household) and had an xray done of my knee. Since falling at BlogHer last month, I’ve had some pain in it when I run. And then the day after running. And then anytime I encounter stairs. The xrays showed nothing and now the doctor wants me to spend money, out of pocket, for an MRI. When I asked how much money we were talking about he said “Not too bad, about $1000. A real athlete like Mr. Phelps would spend that on his knee in a heartbeat.” Uh, Mr. Doctor, I am not Mr. Phelps. I do not have enough money to fill a swimming pool, then do laps in it to break the world record for fastest 100m butterfly in a pile of $100 bills. Mr. Doctor told me to think about it overnight. Do you guys think that if I concentrate really hard, a spare $1000 will appear in my checking account? Also, can I concentrate and get a pony?

I also wore cute shoes today which helped lift my emo mood and I had this:

You might say eww, but I say yum.

Also, my hair is looking awesome and the guy at the Border’s coffeeshop gave me an extra shot of espresso in my latte. I’m fairly certain it was thanks to my cleavage. So, yay for boobies!

I had this whole blog post typed out and somehow I deleted it. It was this totally random stream of conscience post that I could not recreate, even if my life depended on it. Instead here’s what I im’ed to Whitney when I realized what I had done:

“SON OF A BITCH I DID IT AGAIN I HAVE DELETED A WHOLE FUCKING BLOG POST.
MY HEAD IT IS EXPLODING”

But my head, it did not explode. It is waiting for jparks to give me the “You should be typing your posts in google docs where nothing can go wrong ever and your life will be perfect and you will shit gold coins that you can use to buy shoes” so that it can explode all over him and he will have to clean it up. Serves you right jparks, keep your mouth shut and stop using your damn words. Go scrub my brains off the living room wall.

Here’s the last part of the post that somehow didn’t get deleted. It is the most boring part. Figures.

Hey, you know what’s fun? Putting your husband up against one of your best friends in a “who can make the most accurate looking avatar of me” contest!

Whitney made the avatar on the left, jparks made the one of the right. Well, which one looks more like me?

I just can’t tell.

Like every other person in the world, I currently have Olympic fever. I’ve been tivo’ing all kinds of random sports (weightlifting! Who knew it was enjoyable to watch!) and just can’t get enough. I’m totally hating Susan right now and have been playing a fun Where’s Waldo type game called “Can You Find Susan In The Crowds?” Thus far I’m losing, but I know she’s there somewhere, I just need to keep looking.

Watching all of these incredible athletes has really inspired me to want to go to the Olympics someday. And, while going as a spectator would be awesome, going as an athlete would be even better and I think it’s totally doable. I say that with total respect to the real athletes because I’m going to go as a heart warming story that the sportscasters will laugh about and say “Can you believe she’s here! That’s a true Olympic dream coming true!”

Here’s what I think needs to happen for me to go to the Olympics:

I could be talked into a team event if I can find others that want to go to the Olympics with me but don’t want to win. Maybe we could form a rowing team. Or a synchronized swimming team (BEST IDEA YET). We could have the best bathing suits and do synchronized swimmers perform to music, because we could perform to something fun and awesome. I’m open to suggestions.

Who wants in on my brilliant plan?

Hey, you know what’s fun? Watching me have a melt down! And how do you watch me have a melt down? Easy, tell me you’re pregnant and then walk me past a teacup chihuahua puppy that needs a home, is wrapped in a baby blanket, and is wearing a tutu. INSTANT PILE OF REGAN MUSH THAT CAN’T FUNCTION AS A HUMAN.

My ovaries and tear ducts were screaming “TAKE THE PUPPY!” so loudly I barely could my brain saying “slowly back away from the puppy!” Thank god common sense took over and I was able to step away from the cutest pile of tan fur who would have made an excellent sibling to Lily dog.

On a related note, I can’t be held accountable if you bring a baby near me today and I make a mad dash for the nearest exit while holding it.

This post’s alternate title is: I’m going to hell! Wheee!

Alternate Alternate title: Exclamation Points a’plenty!

6:50 I’m trying to catch the 6:56 train out of SF, but there is a very large hippie bike ride that is making it impossible to cross 3rd street and actually get to the CalTrain station on time. Now look, I’ve got nothing against hippies or bike riders but when someone asks you what the ride is in support or protest of, have a better answer than “It’s for LIFE, man. LIIIIIFE.” I turn to the guy standing next to me as I watch the conductor start to close the doors to the train boarding platform from across the bike filled street and say “If I don’t make that train, hippie blood will be flow through the streets like a river.” And I mean it.

6:55 Start to cross the street despite hippies yelling at me that I’m messing with their vibe. “That’s not cool, we’re riding here!” Yeah, you’ve been riding here for the past 10 minutes and there isn’t another train for 40 minutes. Screw you and your vibe I’m crossing the damn street. I almost get run over.

6:56 Had to jump in the train’s doors as they were closing. Yell at one of the CalTrain employees further down on the platform “It’s not my fault! There were stupid bikers!” He yells back “I know!”

6:57 Set my purse on the seat next to me so no one can sit there as human interaction seems like a really bad idea right now.

7:00 Older Dude comes into car. Looks at the seat next to me and lingers long enough to make it obvious he wants the seat. Screw you Older Dude! There are a ton other seats, take one of them. He decides to take one across the aisle, yet facing me (stupid bullet trains). It is an ugly situation as now we are forced to look at each other. I give him my angry eyes.

7:05 Older Dude pulls out an assemble it yourself salad from Trader Joe’s. I get to watch as he uses his hands to scoop corn and black beans from their little plastic tray into the lettuce. Vomit into my mouth. He continues to assemble the salad still using his hands to mix it. His! Hands! Which have touched all the disgusting public CalTrain areas. Vomit more into my mouth.

7:08 Older Dude just pulled out a block of cheese. When was the last time you were leaving your house and wanted a snack so you just grabbed a whole block of cheese to nibble on while riding public transit? Yeah never, that’s what I thought.

7:15 He has been gnawing on the block o’cheese for a while now. I wonder if he remembers that he has that tasty Mexi-Germ salad.

7:20 He has remembered the salad! And is scooping the dressing from the little plastic container using his fingers. Don’t you dare put that finger in your mouth Older Dude! Oh fuck, you did.

7:22 Lid goes on the salad and he shakes it. Apparently, once dressing has been added to the mix, you can’t use your hands as salad tongs. Is it wrong that I am wishing the lid flies off and he gets covered in salad? I bet if it happened he would pick it off himself and eat it.

7:25 Great Older Dude just broke out a huge pocket knife. Leatherman big, not Swiss Army big. He’s cutting the cheese (heh, I am 12) and using the on board table as his cutting board. The on board table that I’ve seen homeless men snooze on. And woman change diapers on. I don’t think I have any vomit left in me so I dry heave into my mouth.

7:30 Older Dude chews really loudly and I might use his big knife against him if he doesn’t stop. The smacking! This is public transit Older Dude! Think of all your fellow passengers! Stop being so gross. I am a woman on the verge of a breakdown and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

7:42 He has finished the salad. I don’t have to throw him off the train.

7:43 Really? You have room for more cheese? But most of the block is gone! Save some for your midnight snack Older Dude! You keep eating that cheese and you’re going to be all blocked up.

7:44 My stop is next!

7:46 Have made it! Goodbye Older Dude! You are disgusting! I bet you get some weird internal worm that eats its way from your stomach to your brain. That’s going to suck for you.

I woke up this morning and found a McDonald’s cheeseburger, a pack of Reese’s peanut butter cups, and a box of KY Yours + Mine lubricant in my purse. My favorite part about this collection is that the KY was stolen from a vendor table at the BlogHer cocktail party held in Macy’s. Look, don’t judge me, stealing the lub had to be done for many reasons:

I’m at BlogHer this weekend and have been handing out my card to many people that may or may not decide to visit this little corner of the internet after meeting me. If you’re new here let me say hi and welcome to what is possibly the most boring spot on the web.

Since I don’t have much to say right now that’s exciting or interesting I thought I would give everyone the chance to relive one of my favorite posts from this site. If this is your first visit, I think this post will give you a glimpse of what an idiot my husband is. And I hope you’ll come back after even after seeing the following pictures. Enjoy:

Let me tell you a little story…
Once upon a time there was a boy and he was in lurve with a girl. They both had their own flickr accounts but when the girl posted pictures of the boy she only selected ones where he didn’t look bad. The boy, on the other hand, posted any picture of the girl that he could. He didn’t care if she looked bad, if her eyes were closed, or if every picture was exactly the same. He didn’t care if she begged him not to give those pictures to the public, the bastard boy still posted them.

One night the girl came up with a plan. “I have a bunch of pictures of my love on the beach and in ponds without his shirt on. I could threaten to post them and then he would understand why I don’t like it when he posts all those crappy pictures of me!”

Thrilled that she had come up with a way to stop the posting of unflattering pictures of her, the girl floated through the rest of her day. That night she laid down the law for the boy and he scoffed at her idea. Then he told his secret lover best friend “She won’t do it.”

The girl responded with a hearty “Not only am I posting them, I’m sending links to TONS OF PEOPLE!”

This, dear friends, is where the story turns into a picture book.

“I wonder if she really will post those pictures of me?” thinks the boy.

“Uh oh, I think she really is posting those pictures. Maybe if I flex my guns and show her I’m a sexy beast she’ll change her mind”

After recovering from a laughing fit over the boy’s “guns”, the girl continued to upload pictures.

“This picture is pretty identical to that other picture” the girl thought as she posted it.

“Sexy!” thought the girl.

“hmm, this picture of the boy running and jumping in the forest is best viewed at the large size so people can see his facial expression,” thought the girl but she posted it anyway.

And finally the girl posted the last picture of the boy, a closeup of him lounging on the beach. “Hmm, he seems to have forgotten to take off his sweater,” the girl thought.

As the girl finished uploading the pictures a great feeling of satisfaction washed over her. “HA!” she thought as she waited for the boy’s reaction…

Dude. You people are some baby wishing fools. Well, I hate to disappoint but I am not pregnant. N-O-T-P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T

I am however starting to dig my new hair. Every night I throw on a headband before I wash my face and when I put it on post haircut I didn’t grab all of the bangs and OMG, cute hair! Since then I’ve been scouring local Targets for headbands, mostly unsuccessfully because now that I want a headband Target has cleared out all of their stock just to piss me off. I need to make the trek to the mall to visit Claire’s, where I’m assuming I’m still allowed to shop despite the fact that I’m not 12 years old. Oh, wait a minute, Clare’s sells nose studs now? Um, wow? I guess Clare’s is now for people over 12 year old. Oh, that could be their new slogan “Clare’s: We’re for adults with only the best taste in nose studs and star belly rings. Strippers also welcome for the body glitter”

In other news, on Saturday I set out for a run and got to mile 14 when a throbbing sensation started in my right foot. Since then the pain has been coming and going and when it flares up I limp around like an idiot. I’m hoping it gets better by Thursday so I can wear heels to BlogHer and not the comfortable, but slightly unattractive Crocs, trainers, and flip flops that I’ve been wearing since Saturday. Will people still talk to me if I wear ugly shoes? Probably, but I’m going to be nervous about meeting the internet for the first time and cute shoes will at least give me one topic of conversation.

And finally, I have a question for you. Lately, when you leave a comment I’ve been trying to respond with an email. I haven’t been doing this for every comment but I’m trying my best to reply to as many as possible without seeming like a desperate stalker. Are you guys getting those emails or are they falling into your spam filters?

And now it’s time to run off to Mountain Winery to see Aimee Mann in concert. Seriously, this week is starting on a high note and is only going to get better.