Horse-Fly-Sized Ass

I still need to run a marathon before May 14, 2012, to achieve my marathon-at-50 goal.

I wanted a special marathon--a marathon so spectacular that it would be worthy of marathon-at-50 pain.

Initially I was thinking about the Las Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Marathon that runs at night in December down the Las Vegas strip. That sounded fun...except for being surrounded by 30,000 other runners.

Then I thought about the Big Sur Marathon in California. For 3 weeks, I've been going to their website thinking about signing up for the race. I even talked to Deborah about it, but I just couldn't pull the trigger. I saw the race registration at 50% sold, 75% sold, 84% sold, and finally sold out. I think it was "California" that kept me from signing up for the race--not a big fan of the left coast.

So now I'm thinking about the Colorado Marathon on May 6 in Fort Collins. But, I'm still thinking and open to suggestions.

Fly Paper
I got tired of swatting flies while out on the porch swing, so I hung some fly paper. Deborah asked, "what is on fly paper?" I explained in my typical technical fashion that scientists had extracted female fly aromas that cause a sexual response in the male fly. The male is excited and lands on the fly paper. At that point he's stuck and dies.

Deborah said, "I've lived all my life and didn't know that."

Leather and Lace Or Acid and Ecstasy

Deborah and I attended the Stevie Nicks on August 9, 2011, at Red Rocks in Morrison, Colorado. It was a very good show, and since it was the first show on the new tour, Stevie's audience interaction was unrehearsed and spontaneous, which made us feel like we were out in her backyard...along with 9,000 of her closest friends.

We were sitting on row 5 towards stage right, and for most of the night, in front of Waddy Wachtel, Stevie's guitar player and music director. I kept waving and winking at Stevie, but I think because of the 9,000 other people, she was trying to ignore me. She did a good job.

But, at the end of the show after Edge of Seventeen, Waddy threw his guitar pick to Deborah, which I was able to retrieve from the Red Rocks concrete aisle. The pick is imprinted with "Waddy Wachtel - Stay 200 hundred feet back." I threw his room key back.

It was a typical concert experience at Red Rocks. You know, the climb up a mountain from South parking area BFE. Where are those damn Sherpas when we need them? Not to mention a cat fight between two drunk, high 20ish chicks on row 6 behind us. Who the hell gets drunk and fights at a Stevie Nicks concert for god's sake? Seriously. And of course, out of 9,000 people, we end up sitting next to the 50ish 6 foot tall single chick that wouldn't keep her hands off me. She kept grabbing my arm and screaming, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" I was beginning to think she had Katherine Heigl's vibrating panties, and at one point I leaned over to Deborah and said, "help me."

The picture is an accurate representation of this chick's brain. We were trying to figure out what she had swallowed. As Stevie sang Leather and Lace, I told Deborah that I thought it was acid and ecstasy. Sure enough I get home and Google "ecstasy" and it says, "Users say they experience feelings of closeness with others and a desire to touch others." Uh huh, yeah. Towards the end of the night, she looked like she was coming down, and her boyfriend embarrassingly walked her past us on the way out. We're betting he didn't hear "Oh my god" again that night.

And, bitch, those were some ugly glasses. (Paraphrased from Deborah's comments)

As we always do, Deborah and I had a great time together. It's always fun to be with the one you love whether in line at the DMV or sitting up front at a concert.

Fly Paper Con't.
Later after a few chuckles, I admitted to Deborah that I made up the part about extracting female fly aromas that cause a sexual response in the male fly. It must be a bitch living with me--hehe.

Of course Deborah has since let it be known that my horse-fly-sized ass will not be attracted or sticking to her aroma anytime in the immediate future either. Damn.