Hic Sunt Dracones

Man, the end of The Transporter with it’s stupid cessna shit really chaps my arse. But the “What kind of shit am I in?” “Very deep shit.” is amusing, and really I can hate on Jason Stratham, he’s awesome. Did you know Vinnie Jones is in UK Celebrity Big Brother? Well he is. And now you know. So too is Bass Hunter, who you probably don’t know, unless you’re into some kind of dance music that I can’t name (though it don’t sound like handbag to me), or you’re a Warcraft player who is into DOTA. I don’t really recall how I know this either, although it is certainly the fault of the BBC.

At the RATM concert I ticked off “shirtless sweaty guy at a rock concert” from the list of things to do, and after my run on Sunday I can tick off another. “Shirtless runner guy who probably shouldn’t be shirtless”, but in my defence, directly prior to that I was “embaressing bleeding from the nipple runner guy.” Nobody wins in that scenario. Nobody. I have BodyGlide for inner thigh chafing and it worms very well, on he chest it might not be up to the task. As Ben is no doubt saying, time I get myself a sports bra I guess.

Yesterday in Melbourne was rather warm, but last night in Melbourne was nasty. An overnight low of 30.6 at ten to nine the next morning? Yah boo sucks to that. I actually thought I slept OK, but then again I was up, showered and sitting downstairs with my head in my hands drinking orange juice by 7:30 in the morning. So perhaps not. We did fire up our purloined portable aircon for the first time this summer, but its ability to do sod all to upstairs persists. Walking up the stairs passes you through one of them temperature gradiant thingies. And you end up melting. Also, temperature gradiant is probably not the term I’m looking for, but this WP app keeps eating parts of my posts, so I refuse to go look it up. You can, if you’re game.

I had an epic fail on Thursday and I’m a bit mopey, in a related note I handed in my notice before Christmas, so have only two more weeks of work. Wowza. Posts may be even more sporadic till I resolve things.

For the record, I don’t actually run. I lurch. Like a zombie. Still, cardio.