I went to Sea World this weekend.  I have never been before, but while I was there I got the strongest sense of déjà vu that I HAD been there before. I have previously seen dolphins leap out of water I know it.

Ugh. I left my rock shoes at home for the last two weeks by accident. Ugh. My hand calluses are dwindling. I might just drive back home tomorrow just to get the shoes.

Lets talk about feet.  I'd rather not, but I'd rather be rock-climbing so SUCK-IT.  But let the E take effect first. Geez

So when I was in Cape Cod last week, I walked miles each day in a pair of new flip flops. Within hours of buying a pair, I had blisters between by big toes. Within two days (still walkin in flip flops), the calluses had turned into sloppy red marks.  Halfway through the trip to the Cape I said to my friends, "perhaps I should buy another pair of shoes." So we walk into a store, and I walk out with a much more expensive pair of flip flops.  So now my skin is being peeled off and sanitized by a  green Clarks suede thong instead of sticky white plastic thong.  On the plane ride home my toes swelled up to the point that I couldn't bend them and I had to take Advil to kill the stinging pain. 

I'm uploading a picture so you can see how GROSS and NASTY this is.

This is of me on the plane bending both toes on both feet. See the difference?

The plane ride wasn't so bad at all, though, considering. I have really good airport karma normally. This means that I arrive at the airport 30 minutes before takeoff, walk straight onto the shuttle, walk straight through security, and walk straight onto the plane without waiting one second in some STINKIN  terminal.  And normally, it also means I get to sit next to cool people too.  On the ride back to LA from Boston, I sat next to a young, lovey dovey, Asian couple that didn't talk to me  except to say howdy, but halfway through the ride, they offered to buy me a drink, which I accepted.  Thank god, I was sober when I landed, or else I would have put out.

My airport Karma was hit or miss this particular trip, however. I got stopped in Massachusetts for carrying pepper spray through security.  This supposedly is bad to begin with. Add on top of that the fact that pepper spray is flat out illegal in Mass without a permit, and you have me being told to stay put till the cops get here. The airport security guy who brought the state trooper over was nice but was all "clearly, you know you can't do this." And I'm all. "I've had this pepper spray on my key chain along with this dead hamster since I was a junior in college - 4 YEARS AGO - and have flown 20 times since then and have never been stopped.  So who's not following protocol NOW?! 

They took photographs, questioned me, filled out a report, and told me I would be getting an invoice in the mail for to take my money.  I land in LAX and was told by Southwest for the THIRD TIME IN A ROW that they had accidentally taken my baggage off of the plane in Baltimore.  I informed the Southwest people  of this and some representative named Earlene at the LAX airport apologized to me without even looking up from typing. Saying monotone, "I do apologize." and I said. " No, really. This is the third time in a row". And she said monotone without looking up. "I do apologize." I said. "I don't think you are being sincere."  Then since she was pissed she finally looked me in the eyes and circled an address on the brochure and said. "Contact these people if you have a problem."  And I'm like, " Dude, I would if I could type street names into a phone."   I was flabbergasted that my airport Karma had so totally and completely deserted me.  Next time I go to the airport it's three hours ahead of time for me.

Anyway, More feet stuff.

So I get to my hotel home, and I go jogging in my new marathon running shoes that I had picked up while shopping in Boston.  I had spent a great deal of time in Boston convincing the clerk that really,  each version of the shoe should have a brown, blue, and black model. And he said it wasn't important.  

He told me my right foot rolls ever-so-slightly inward when I run, and he got me some shoes with medium support to hopefully prevent any stress on my foot.  So I'm back in the OC and jogging down the road in my new blue shoes. Blue, I tell you.  And I think to myself..."mmm, my right arch is feeling a little stressed. That guy was full of it cause these shoes are supposed to make my right foot all better.  And then I thought, my left foot toes are falling asleep. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. And then I, thought, Geez my right foot is achy. I hate Boston and those liars that take up residence there."

And then I look down at my feet and start laughing because I have on my left foot my new marathon shoes and on my right foot my old cross-trainer shoe that has long been worn out. I couldn't have staged a better test.

I have since been running for long distances in my marathon shoes (9 miles on the pier this last weekend), both on at the same time, and have worn them in to the point that the toes aren't falling asleep anymore, and my right arch feels dandy.

And I wonder to myself once more why I don't just move to Boston where all the nice people are.  That maceless place filled with song and dance and non-fiction reading subway passengers.

I just got finished with my evening yoga class. 90 minutes of an Orange County grandma gently instructing me to breath out everything that is getting me down.  I love this class. This lady as one of the most calming voices I have ever come across.  So soft and completely devoid of stress and insecurities.  It's amazing how much I notice how much her voice lacks anxiety. Makes me realize that that's all I hear all day is voices filled with anxiety.  I want her voice. After I quit my job to become a zoologist and study elephants and why elephants prefer lulu hats over lulu ass pants (cause they already have cute butts, duh, says my friend), I'm going to become a yoga instructor with a boob job. Do sixty year-olds  with perky boobs have anxiety? Doubtful.

Lately sometimes, after work and the workout, I will go down to the hotel bar and have a drink with the nice travelers.  I figure the worst that could happen is I meet someone who can afford to stay at the same nice hotel that my company is paying for me to stay at. And so far I have been right,  every time I go, I meet an educated, well-to-do individual.  I met a man with a doctorate in 20th century American Literature who works for a law firm teaching lawyers how to write well. I met a partner at an architecture firm who also had been to Bryce Canyon (Just Like Me!!) within the last year.  One night I even sat next to Uriah Duffy from Whitesnake.  All I'm saying, is that this heya is the scene I have grown accustomed to.

This week, however..., I'm staying at a different hotel, one which I wasn't sure had a bar, and I wanted a bite to eat anyway after yoga, so I drive to an Italian restaurant only to be told that last call had already occurred and that the kitchen had shut down an hour ago.  This event brought me to the conclusion that maybe it was later than I thought.

No problem. There is always Taco Bell.

I am resigned the the fact that I can't get a drink as I order my quesadilla,  and I am actually excited a little that I can read some more of my book. I end up sitting on a plastic bar esk stool in front of a thin, tall table up against the window. I pull out my book as I glance over at a small crowd of high schoolers that are looking my way and smiling broadly while looking embarrassed at the same time.  I shrug to myself and start reading.

A page into the book, one of the group walks over and asks, "Do you mind if I sit here." Gesturing at the stool next to mine. I shrug and smile and continue reading.

"Do you mind if I talk to you?"

I smile and put the book down.

He introduces himself as Mitchell and then says,

"I just wanted to let you know that I really like your feet. I think they are gorgeous."

"Hahahaha, thanks. I'll let my pedicurist know."

"Oh, you get pedicures, that's great. How often?"

"Once every two weeks. And I'm one week into this one, so I guess I'm doing pretty good. Just don't look at the other foot. The big toenail is split down the middle cause of a rock climbing accident."

"Ok. No problem. Do you where sandals all the time?"

"Yeah."

"Wow, that's really fantastic that you have feet like that."

"So you're really a foot guy, huh. I've never met one of those before?"

"Yeah, I like feet. But I'm not into any of that kinky stuff."

"Yes, you are. Of course you are."

"No, I swear."

"You can't help it. OF COURSE YOU ARE."

"Well, maybe a little."

"I just got back from yoga. There are a lot of bare feet there. You should do yoga if you like the cute lady feet"

"Aw, nah man. Yoga man. Nah"

"Just don't move to Canada or nothing. Cause all the women in cold weather wear sneakers. You must never leave Orange County. Do you hear me? You would be miserable."

"I never thought of it that way."

"Yeah"

"How old are you?" He asks glancing at me through his dark sunglasses. Mitchell is about 200 lbs and about 5'8" and has a large set of unrestrained man boobs.  Man boobs that separate in the middle and hang to either side of his large belly.  He has nice eyes and is clearly confident with the ladies.

"I'm 25."

"No way!!. HAHA."     He laughs and glances back at his friends who wave and smile back.

"How old are you."    I ask. Knowing that he's got to be a junior in high school.

"Old enough."

"Seriously, how old are you?" I ask again.

"Seriously, old enough to do whatever you want me to do."

"I'm going to guess ... high school."

"High school? Aw man, I'm nineteen. High school, really? That's bad."

"Sorry, you just look younger. All your friends look young too."

"So, what you reading?"

I slide the book his way. The book is The Blind Watchmaker by Richard Dawkins a prominent evolutionary biologist and atheist who is responsible for the popularity of gene-centric evolution and meme theory (the evolution of reproductive cultural entities such as religion)).

"It's a book about evolution."

"Oh yeah?"  He asks looking at the back.

"Yeah, you know, like Darwin."

"Oh yeah?" He says in a confused tone.

"Yeah, about how organisms evolve. How the are built a step at a time. How just because things look designed doesn't mean they are."

"So it's a book about how to put stuff together?"

"No, it's about evolution. Evolution. You know like science"

"Ohhhh, science. Yeah, I did science in school."

"Oh..., that's good,"    I offer

The book quickly placed aside, he steers the topic around to topics he can grasp More Better. Like what I do for a living.

"Technology consulting." Is the answer.

"What's that?"

"I go around to large companies and help them build systems. Like right now we are helping our client build a global website."

"A what?"

"A website."

"Oh, a website, yeah I know what that is. You just confused me.... Global."

After apologizing profusely for talking with such confusing terminology, I explained what global meant before asking him what he did when he wasn't at Taco Bell.

"So you go to school, or you work...?"

"Yeah, I used to work. At the Knotts. Three months ago."

"The Knotts?"  Is it confused in here or it just me?

"The Knott's Berry Farm. The amusement park."

"Oooohhh, so what happened there?"

"I got fired for Blazin with two hotties."

"For Blazin with two hotties? ... Oh my!...Did they get fired too?"

"Nah, they were just visiting?"

Eventually, I talked about how I was just in town for the week and that normally, I live elsewhere. He gets all excited and says. "So we're gonna party tonight, right? Me and my friends, in your hotel? We'll bring the booze."

"And the weed..."  I remind him.

"Yeah, Yeah, of course the weed." He says with a big smile.

"You must be high right now."

He pauses. And looks me over... And Whispers...

"Nah, I'm not high. I'm rolling." 

"YOU'RE ROLLING!!!!! OMG. RIGHT NOW??? You are ROLLING..... RIGHT NOW???"

"Yeah!!!!!"   He says, taking off his sunglasses. His pupils are indeed dilated to quite some extent.  He looks back at his friends and waves excitedly.

"So are you a raver?" He asks me.

"I've only been to one. EDC. This past June."  EDC had 120,000 concert goers and was, as they all say, "EPIC."

"I was there too! I was one of the ones who got arrested rushing the gates with that crowd of people."

Now this brought back an actual scary memory for me. I was entering the concert gate when large amounts of people start thundering past me. I'm looking around for my friends who are getting pulled along with the crowd. I try to maintain my ground but everyone around me is running.  I cover my head and go with the herding crowd hoping not to trip and get trampled. It was scary. Very unnerving. The mini-stampede was caused by a large group of people rushing to jump the secure lines to get into the stadium without passes.  Security was hot on their tails and was grabbing people and throwing them to the ground.  The stampede eventually died down but not before I had lost sight of my group. I quickly found them, but the adrenaline was very much NOT appreciated.  

"That's crazy. I was totally there when that happened. That was really scary for me.  Did they really arrest you?"

"Kind of. They put us in a room. But I had already taken two pills, so I didn't care. I just talked to the ladies. Then they let us go. So when are we going up to your room to party?"

"Dude, I have work tomorrow in my real life. I'm not going to party it up with a bunch of 19 year olds tonight.

"Don't worry about it. Just have fun, and when you are ready to go to work tomorrow, just take a pill and you'll be fine."

'Haha, no thanks. It all makes sense now, though, you hitting on me like this, why you talk to me like you're my best friend."

"I'm always like this."

"No, You're on E. That's why you are being so friendly."

"Nah, I'd lick you're feet even if I wasn't rolling."

Today I began my the training for the marathon that I will be running on December 6. Exactly 17 weeks from now.  I took an hour and set up my running calendar and will now be devotedly box checking my way to a 26 mile race. My first run was a simple 3 mile jog on a somewhat busy sidewalk of Glendale, CA. Halfway through the run, a 13 year old and his 6 year old brother do a bluff run at me and pace me for about 10 feet as they laugh, and I look at the 13 year old like "What, what" and he's looks at me like "what, what"  back!  And it was on. For the next 3 blocks the two of us are sprinting down the sidewalk dodging sidewalk diners and dog walkers. Eventually, that freaking guardian of his stopped all the fun, and I jogged away in my lulu shorts (with built in panties) and lulu hat (my new one I got today, since I left my last one in Vegas), and my lulu sports bra (Hidden seams people).

...and speaking of lulu...he he he

My project at work just brought on two new females to work with us for the next seven weeks. I meet them for the first time as I run into a conference room in Cincinnati, fresh off a plane after 28+ hours without sleep (and looking eagerly forward (LET ME TELL YOU) to working a full day).  As I pull up my chair, I send a wave in their directions, and pause midstream as I notice a gigantic Lululemon sticker plastered to one of the female's notebooks. AS IN, this girl got a sticker, and got a notebook, and put them together, and took it to her job.

I start breathing rapidly, I want to immediately crawl secretly under the table towards her and offer her $88 dollars for the notebook because I don't have that model yet.  And it matches AT LEAST three of the lulu pants that I have. I think to myself "work just got A LOT better".  Not long after the meeting, the girl leans over to me and whispers, "I have that jacket you're wearing in 4 colors," and I lean over and say "would you like to go to Lululemon with me RIGHT NOW and have a threesome with the counterman at the Old Town Pasadena store." And she said, "I was hoping you would say that, let's blow this joint."

In other "my-obsession-has-gotten-out-of-control-news," I was hiking in Bryce Canyon in my WHITE lulu hiking shorts, and sat down on a red dirt incline to have my friend take a picture. When finished, I stood up and continued hiking; a woman behind me being friendly joked to me, "it looks like you fell down in something, your butt is bright red," and I was all, "oh, haha, no big deal i'll just brush it off." And she said, "No, that's not going anywhere, that red sand stains really bad. You won't even be able to wash it out." I stood there. ... Stunned... and she laughs and says "That happened to me and I just have to say to myself 'they're just shorts right'."

The guy next to me chokes a laugh back and continues giggling as I stair daggers at the lady. HOW DARE SHE. Just Shorts!!!! Everything in my body did the whole "excuse me, I WORK IN from orange county and You...Yooouuuuu are a peon. Have at you." I was dragged down the trail away from my target with my nails and hands tearing at the dirt trying to get to the lady to knock sense into her. 

I went home and washed the shorts. And no stains. NO STAINS. Ha. The obsession deepens.

I also came to two realizations today. 1. I no longer need anything from lulu. In fact, If I keep buying things, I won't be able to wear them much because I already have those products in other styles. 2. Lululemon is a public company. Meaning stock!  So given that I can't keep up my rate of product purchases... instead of buying the clothes, I will try to buy the shares!

I think this is self-delusion. But hey, I'd rather be THAT person. So let's have a toast towards my effort of kicking this habit and turning it into something my future will appreciate, if not my butt (Yummy luon pants)...