Yeah, real sorry about the lack of posts. Thing is, my life has been more like "Eat Bitches Eat" than "Run Bitches Run" the last week or so while my best friend visited. Four days, two layers of chocolate cake, one wheel of brie, approximately fourteen bottles of wine and two packs of cigarettes (cough) later, and I'm feeling exceptionally happy and bloated.
But I did get a call this morning from a doc who's going to shoot cortizone into my bum hamstring. It hurts right where it connects with my pelvis, which means in my a. And my doctor's mildly attractive. So that should be nice and awkward.
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Why, hello.
- Ells (aka Serialmono)
- Take one girl, born and bred in Oregon.
Sprinkle in some smelly dogs, add a southern boy, pack up a trailer and ship them all off to South Carolina.
Here's where (instead of writing about running, as I'd originally planned) I write about moving from the Pacific Northwest to the Deep South.
I'm totally scared of bugs and humidity, but I love me some hush puppies.
Funny–I've been staying clear of sugar for the past two weeks so my great-aunt won't comment on how thin my sister is as a way of commenting on fat I am this weekend when I'm home for Easter. My best friend's picking me up at the airport tomorrow night, and we had originally talked about how I'm going to continue not eating sugar with her, but today we were like, "We're not REALLY going to do that, right?" And no, we're not. So I applaud you.