My Menstrual Cycle Has a Body Count

One puzzling aspect, from an evolutionary standpoint, of the human reproductive cycle is P.M.S. or Pre-Menstrual Syndrome. On the day when this "syndrome" manifests, the lady in question - lets say me, for instance - tends to get overcome by misanthropic thoughts at the slightest provocation.

The lady in question - again, let's use me as an example - might go for a run to try to dissipate the cloud of rage and psychosis that nature has inflicted on her and rather than any of the angst being relieved, it seems that nature, and indeed every annoying person within a 5 kilometer radius, conspires to try the lady's patience. Bicycles narrowly avoid hitting the lady, people don't take the hint and move out of the way on narrow walking paths even when the lady coughs loudly several times to let them know she is approaching, and big white vans back carelessly out of industrial driveways nearly hitting the lady and causing her to make a public spectacle of herself when she spontaneously shouts, "Holy fuck!" at the top of her lungs. The lady is then left to carry on running, inaudibly mumbling obscenities at people on the street who are staring at her.

It's horrible and unfair and the lady fights back tears as she curses the fact that she has to go running in the first place and wonders why she couldn't have been born one of those people with a naturally skinny ass, and then just as she's thinking this, the lady is almost hit by a car as she's running across the crosswalk even though it's the car's duty to be watching out and pedestrians were on this planet first and why the hell do we have to have cars anyway? "Fuck cars", the lady thinks. She will be glad when they no longer exist. They were a bad idea to begin with. They never should have been mass-produced for the individual consumer. At most they should have been used as emergency vehicles. The car is the reason for the downfall of western civilization. It is the pus that oozed from the carbuncle of the Industrial Revolution. "Fuck the Industrial Revolution", she curses under teary breath, and not for the first time.



.......So anyway, back to tying it in with evolution, what purpose was PMS supposed to serve? Was it to thin the herd? Were cavemen who pissed off the ladies at the Wrong Time removed from the gene pool with a club to the head by a lady who was just out trying to get a little exercise?


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Who Killed Ceramic Jesus?

For half a year, since I bought Him at a rummage sale, there has been a Ceramic Jesus sitting in our window. The cats have been peacefully sitting in the window with Him while he guards the house or whatever it is Ceramic Jesuses are supposed to do. There was never any conflict, never any rivalry between Ceramic Jesus and The Cats; While they weren't exactly "buddies", there was certainly never any reason to suspect that things could ever go terribly awry, but today I came home and found this:



Ceramic Jesus had been brutally murdered and I knew that the culprit was still somewhere in the room. But none of them were talking. I knew it had to be one of the cats as they are avid secularists, but they were all curled up in various places pretending to be asleep. Since cats are notoriously uncooperative under interrogation anyway, I thought the best way to ascertain guilt would be to photograph the suspects with what was left of Ceramic Jesus and look for guilty reactions.



First I photographed the girls, Peanut and Vienna. They looked so deceptively sweet it immediately aroused my suspicions, but on examination of the photograph I can't detect any guilt.



In fact when Peanut was photographed alone with Ceramic Jesus, she looked downright traumatized by His condition. Next I moved on to Bram and Angelo:



.....And here I noticed something interesting. If my eyes aren't deceiving me, it looks as though Ceramic Jesus is inching toward Bram (on the left) and casting a somewhat wary eye towards Angelo.



Do I detect a glint of fear? Hmmmmm.......

So just to mix things up, I photographed Ceramic Jesus with Angelo and Papa Steve.



This time Angelo is seated on the left and is Ceramic Jesus - - ???......Why yes, I do believe Ceramic Jesus is pointing at Angelo!



Yeah, that's right. You've been caught!



You can run, but you can't hide, my friend!!


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I Got Inspired!!

In the various places I have lived I have found things to love and hate about each respective culture: In America I can't stand the way they say "Awesome" every 5 seconds and take a pill every time they have an upsetting thought, but I love the customer service; In England I can't stand the customer service (or lack thereof) and the pathological evasiveness, but I love the way they solve everything with a drink; and in Belgium I can't stand the mandatory three kiss thing, and the fascist cyclists, but I love what freaks the people are.



Belgians are slightly kooky. Perhaps that's news to some but on closer examination you'll certainly be led to the conclusion that a people who gave the world Magritte, The Smurfs and The Singing Nun must have some sort of collective quirky gene.

So it was hardly surprising when I read about this guy:



His name is Stefaan Engels and he has set out to run a marathon every day in 2010. When I first read about him on January 1st I thought, "What is this guy, Insane?"..... How can a human being run 365 Marathons in a row? That's 42k! (26 miles) I can't even walk on the treadmill twice a week!....(Well OK, to be fair it's because I can't be bothered to walk to my gym - It's a 15 minute walk followed by a climb up 6 flights of stairs - what are these people, sadists?!).....Then I happened to catch my reflection in the mirror. From the side I look like I'm pregnant - with triplets. And while it's nice to be offered the occasional seat on the bus from young mothers who smile knowingly at my extended gut, it's not a look I'm terribly proud of. Then I had an epiphany.: if this Stefaan Engels guy can run 42k a day then surely I can run 5k a day?!



So the very next day, January 2nd, I went out to Watersportsbaan where he and his entourage are doing their thing and I joined in. The track is exactly 5k around which is convenient for me. So I've been getting out there and doing once around. I'm not nearly fast enough to run with the cool people clustered around Stefaan Engels, so I just plod along at the pace I can do right now. On the days when I run at the same time of day as them I will at one point hear what sounds like a stampede of Buffalo and my heart races a bit as I brace myself to get trampled by The Entourage.



They are moving so fast that they probably have no idea I'm even "running" - most likely they just get mildly annoyed with the chubby lady who appears to be standing on the running path. As they pass me by they seem so cheery , all chattering and laughing and ultra cool looking. It would almost hurt my feelings but I just tell myself that they probably wouldn't be able to run as fast as that if they were carrying two large bags of cat food (that's what I've used as my reference point) on their butts as I am.



So that's my new goal: to shed the bags of catfood and run fast enough to hang out with The Entourage. To look all effortlessly fit and happy while I fly around the track 3, 4, 5 times like they do. To hear what it is that they're talking about!

.......With my luck the first conversation I hear will be: "Hey whatever happened to that chubby lady who used to stand still on the running path?"



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