Nothing so exciting as a tropical storm today. The local media is making fun of itself (well, poking fun at each other, actually) over the hyped up coverage for what ended up being a rainstorm. Hours and hours of coverage, and the most exciting thing one channel could find to air was a tent blowing down.
I’m nearing the end of Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, which is an odd memoir that ties together his obsession with running and how it affects his writing. The truth is, not so much, although he would argue that it is the head-clearing process that keeps him sane enough to write. As someone who has done some endurance sports in the past (I’ve done a few century bicycle rides), I identify with his compulsion to track statistics. I used to keep a log of miles cycled each week, along with total time and average speed, challenging myself to go faster and farther all the time.
Big Brother was a real train wreck last night. Everyone was yelling at everyone else, sometimes at the same time, often for different reasons. Libra is yelling at April while Rennie is yelling at Jerry. This was followed by the lamest birthday celebration in BB history. “OK, who wants cake,” Libra says through barely clenched teeth, three seconds after yet another diatribe at/about Jessie.
Didn’t get any work done this morning. I did get a good laugh out of Paris Hilton’s response to McCain, though. Love her or hate her, it’s pretty damned funny.
