Not Shallow

In 1997, Troy Duffy was poised to be the next Quentin Tarantino. Well, maybe the next Robert Rodriguez. He was, for a very brief time, Harvey Weinstein’s pet and Weinstein’s Miramax Films was going to produce Troy’s first-ever script, The Boondocks Saints.  Miramax was going to shell out $15 million to make the movie and allow Duffy, who had never directed even so much as a home video, to direct. But soon enough Harvey got bored with Duffy, or more likely found him to actually be an unoriginal, slightly psychotic bore, and stopped returning his phone calls, which one could do if one was Harvey in 1997 (today not so much). A person would have had to work pretty hard to be more irritating than Harvey Weinstein in 1997 but Troy Duffy managed it.

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Annoying Ways In Which Annoying People Use Twitter

1. People who are on Twitter to promote things, probably for pay, who think they are being clever in the way they do it:

“Just flattened my hair with the new Blacksmith Iron by Hair Thing Maker and it’s fabulous. My hair hasn’t looked this good since my senior picture.”

“Made a sandwich and didn’t know what to put it in and then saw my new box of ZIPLOC  Super Zip sandwich bags!”

“I love the indie band SOFT PALETTE and their new album KNOCK YOUR TEETH OUT. Got it at WalMart for $8.99.”

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I got up early today to do the running. Yep, ran around Lake Harriet in a slightly less ridiculous outfit.

Here was my internal dialogue:

“Wow, here I am down at the lake before 7:00. Wow. I’m dedicated. I’m going to slowly jog this lake like its never been slowly  jogged before. Am I crazy? I mean, I’m up early! Suited up and jogging! And it’s kinda cold out… Am I dressed warmly enough? Sun’s coming up so I’ll probably heat up. You have to be super dedicated to do this. Wow, I’m walking fast to warm up…”

Guy runs by me and says, “Good pace!”

“WTF? Good pace? I’m walking. Well, I’m walking fast. Probably he’s never seen such a fast, well-paced walker. Wow, I’m out here doing this! With all the other runners. I’m really putting myself out there! Way to go, me!”

And then I jogged past an old man with a CANE, slowly walking around the lake and looking out for the ice. An old guy with a cane. On ice. And I suddenly felt very foolish. What I was doing was not all that special. He was up and out and caning his way around the lake with fierce determination before the sun was all the way up.

“Good morning!” the old man said. He was very chipper and his face was very red from the cold.

“Good morning,” I said.

And then I stopped congratulating myself and concentrated on the running.

Last Sunday I began my latest running campaign. I’ve talked about running here before and how I’m somewhat of a Special Needs runner. But I still feel compelled to run. Mostly it’s because I feel the need to be outside, alone, not thinking.

And it’s easy to not think about anything when I’m struggling to breathe. From the moment I start running I really only have one thought, which is, “When can I stop running?”

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If I were a single woman and a date came to pick me up in this, I’d be pretty impressed. Hell, if my husband came to pick me up in this (from work!) I’d be pretty impressed. This seems to me to be the perfect transport for snow-bound Gentleman’s Gentlemen everywhere.

I looked it up and this phone number should be area code “601″ if you feel inclined to call and strike a deal!

“We’re ready for our shot at a gold medal in ice dancing!”

Keith and I were having a discussion yesterday about our dog, Freja, being “a dog’s dog.” What this means, we decided, is that she’s loved by dogs and humans alike just for her very unfussy, no-holds-barred “dogginess.” This stems from another ongoing discussion between us about being a “Gentleman’s Gentleman.” Just what is a Gentleman’s Gentleman? With kind regards to Mr. Grant Weeks (truly in the running to be a GG), here are some pointers Keith and I came up with.

1. Have a flask on your person as often as possible. The flask must be filled with good liquor, no rotgut. Whiskey is preferred but not required. A true Gentleman’s Gentleman would have an engraved flask, possibly with a picture of a bulldog.

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In honor of the final season of LOST, ABC and Grinder Press are releasing a coffee table book entitled LOST’S Hottest Extras: The Castaways You May Have Missed.

Most of us were probably focused on Sawyer’s, I’m sorry, James’s shiny chest or maybe Sayid’s curly locks or even perhaps Kate’s… freckles. Here’s just a sampling of the hotties you missed.

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Driving down Lyndale Avenue, radio station set to Jazz 88 FM, blaring a Latin version of “I Did It My Way.” Destination: Walgreens. The pit of human despair. The place where optimism and good health clasp hands and jump off the cliff, eyes closed, hoping for the best but knowing they’ll end up in the aisle with the support hose.

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I started reading a new book today. A little light reading called The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout. I saw it a couple weeks ago while browsing at Barnes & Noble and put it on hold at the library. According to the book, 4% of the U.S. population are sociopaths, or 1 out of 25 people. That number seemed alarming until I started to read the book, which points out that this doesn’t mean that 1 out of 25 people are violent or serial killers. There are more ways to qualify as sociopathic. The one common element is a lack of conscience.

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